Chapter Eighty-Two: Mount Wangwu

Ruined walls and shattered tiles, a scene of devastation—collapsed buildings lay everywhere, rubble scattered across the ground. Yet Lin Fan could still discern that this place was once an ancient temple: behind the plump Buddha stood the remnants of a hall and a pagoda, and faintly visible were several stone statues. The Buddha himself was seated upon a broken tree stump, enormous, spanning dozens of yards.

"This is White Horse Temple," the Buddha spoke, his face perpetually smiling, radiating affability.

"White Horse Temple?" Lin Fan frowned, searching his memory for any record of such a place, but found nothing.

"Don’t bother trying," the Buddha said, his booming voice resonating like a great bell, making Lin Fan’s eardrums tremble, the echo lingering. "At the end of the ancient era, White Horse Temple suffered a great calamity. An unrivaled power intervened, and all its legacy vanished into smoke. Now, even the records of this temple have disappeared."

"But how does an ancient temple from that distant age still exist?" Lin Fan asked, perplexed. "Shouldn't it have been swallowed by the river of time? Yet I feel the aura of antiquity here remains intact."

"Everything in this world follows the cycle of cause and effect. Its existence is proof enough; White Horse Temple must endure," the Buddha replied, turning the wild fowl before him, his eyes gleaming, even drooling a little.

"Master, among the eight precepts of the Buddhist disciples, isn’t there one forbidding killing?" Lin Fan’s mouth twitched—he hadn’t met many monks, but he knew they were supposed to be ascetics, strict in their rules.

"What precept against killing? All nonsense. Wine and meat may pass through the belly, but the Buddha resides in the heart. No self, no others; as long as the Buddha is within, these trivialities need not be fussed over. You’re no disciple yourself—why pretend in front of me?" the Buddha snorted, unconcerned with the precepts, but his words were full of Buddhist philosophy.

"Haha, Master, you’re indeed a frank man. But why am I here?" Lin Fan laughed; he was not one for rigid dogma and found the Buddha a man of character.

"The legendary flower of the other shore blooms for ten thousand years, its leaves fall for ten thousand years—they never meet, yet someday they will cross paths. Love lasts but three lifetimes; causality binds the cycle of reincarnation," the Buddha intoned, his words enigmatic, leaving Lin Fan lost in a fog of confusion.

"What three lifetimes? What reincarnation? What does any of this have to do with me?" Lin Fan asked, his brow furrowed, unable to grasp the Buddha’s meaning.

"You are him, yet you are not him. Has the cycle of countless lifetimes not yet reached its end? Go back. This is not something you should be entangled with. What I prepared for you can be discarded," the Buddha said, shaking his head, disappointment flickering in his gaze.

"What is happening here? I’ve had nothing but bad luck today. Who was the old Daoist who brought me here? Who are you?" Lin Fan shouted, but then found himself being pulled backward, as if an insurmountable chasm had split him from the Buddha, impossible to cross.

Suddenly, the world before him was engulfed in chaotic mist, and Lin Fan could no longer see anything ahead. Yet, just barely, he saw the Buddha rise, cough up blood, and before him, not a wild fowl but a phoenix stripped of its feathers, undergoing transformation in a flood of divine light, turning to ashes.

"What is happening?" Lin Fan wondered, only to find himself back in Seal Heaven City, surrounded by bustling crowds and prosperity as before. It felt as if he had just awoken from a dream.

"Never mind, that’s the business of great figures, nothing to do with me. I’d best return home," he muttered, deciding not to wander any longer.

Half an hour later, he was back in his courtyard.

Just then, Yi Xiaoxian brought a silk map.

"Master Lin, this is the map of Mount Wangwu. We’re going to an ancient site at its heart, but it’s perilous, full of terror—I really don’t wish for you to be involved," Yi Xiaoxian made a final attempt to dissuade him, but Lin Fan refused.

"No need for further words. Since I have decided, there’s no turning back," he replied, and Yi Xiaoxian, hearing this, said no more, bowed, and departed.

"Mount Wangwu? I remember seeing some sparse references when I was at Heavenly Capital Gate," Lin Fan recalled.

Back when he was a menial servant, he had read many books—secret tales of the Great Jin nation. Mount Wangwu was mentioned only in passing.

"It’s a land of great evil, rumored to be cursed, with not a blade of grass growing, the mountain covered in blood-red earth. In that sense, it resembles the ancient Scarlet City of the Tianwu Domain—perhaps it was once a terrifying battlefield," Lin Fan mused, carefully studying the map, then committing it to memory and destroying it, leaving no trace.

Qinghu Town was remote, some distance from Seal Heaven City, usually sparsely populated. Yet it was the only way to reach Mount Wangwu.

On this day, a bronze carriage rolled into Qinghu Town and finally stopped before a tavern.

"Miss Xiaoxian, we’ve arrived," Lin Fan said, stepping down. Yi Xiaoxian followed gracefully as the carriage curtain was lifted.

They didn’t linger; after three days of careful maneuvering to avoid prying eyes, they had finally reached this place.

"Waiter, bring us a table of wine and dishes," Lin Fan called to a servant, intending to rest here. Taverns were gathering places for all sorts of people, the best spot for newcomers to catch wind of local news.

"Please, upstairs. But you’ll have to bear with us—Qinghu Town has been lively as spring this past month, bustling all over, but just now a group left, so there’s space," the young waiter replied, bowing repeatedly as he led them upstairs.

"Brother, what’s going on? Qinghu Town is famous for being quiet," Lin Fan asked, and upon entering he saw the waiter spoke truly—the tavern was packed, voices clamorously filling the air, even Yi Xiaoxian frowned slightly.

"You’ve come to the right person, but I don’t know the exact details. Rumor has it it’s connected to Mount Wangwu, but I don’t get it—how could so many people flock to such an ominous place?" the waiter replied, guileless, readily sharing all he knew.