Xu Manor.
Baiji and Xu Lingyin were playing in the garden, chasing butterflies between the flowerbeds.
After Xu Qi’an had mediated, Xu Lingyin had accepted Baiji and treated it as a friend rather than prey.
Since it was a friend, of course she couldn’t eat it.
The two of them had been playing together every day lately. They were like-minded, with matching intellects, and both felt they had found a close companion.
After fooling about for a while, Baiji lifted its head, looked at the human child, and said in a sweet voice:
“Did you sneakily eat my chicken drumstick? I saved it yesterday for my auntie.”
Panic flashed plainly across Xu Lingyin’s round little face, but she forced herself to say:
“Of course not!”
Her voice was very loud, as if she thought that could cover up her guilt.
The little white fox tilted its head and asked suspiciously:
“Really not?”
Xu Lingyin shook her head hard. “It must’ve been my master who ate it. Think about it, isn’t she really greedy?”
Baiji tilted its head the other way, pondered for a long while, then realised that really was true. It immediately believed Xu Lingyin’s words and said angrily:
“That’s right, she’s always greedy. She must’ve stolen my chicken drumstick.”
Little Pea let out a sigh of relief, feeling as though she had just survived a calamity. With her own wit and courage, calmness and composure, she had successfully cleared the trial.
“I’m not playing any more. I’m going to find Auntie.”
Baiji behaved just like a little girl who couldn’t bear to be apart from her mother.
“Go find my mum. My mum’s in the hall, and we can keep playing there,” Xu Lingyin said, not yet satisfied.
“Your mum isn’t pretty. I’m not looking for her,” Baiji said.
“My mum is pretty.” Xu Lingyin raised her faint little brows.
“She isn’t pretty. My auntie’s the prettiest.” Baiji raised a paw and slapped the ground hard to bolster its imposing manner.
“Tui!”
Little Pea furiously spat at it.
“Tui!” Baiji immediately fired back.
Xu Lingyin: “Tuitui…”
Baiji: “Tuitui, tui…”
Xu Lingyin: “Tuituitui, tui…”
One girl and one fox spat at each other for a long while, until their mouths were dry and their tongues parched. Then they both left, agreeing to come back later and settle the matter once and for all.
Baiji’s fur was sticky. Familiar with the route, it made its way to the kitchen water vat and jumped in with a plop. Its little body, no bigger than two palms, paddled about in the water with its short limbs.
After washing off Xu Lingyin’s saliva, it leapt out of the vat and gave its fur a fierce shake, scattering countless droplets.
Then it turned into a white blur and vanished, heading for Mu Nanzhi’s room.
Creak. With the sound of the open window, Baiji slipped into the room, twitched its nose, and caught a familiar scent.
On the brocade couch, Mu Nanzhi was sleeping deeply, her expression tired. Her smooth snow-white fragrant shoulders were bare, as were her exquisite collarbones and long neck, and of course that peerless face, breathtakingly beautiful and fit for either joy or anger.
On the floor were scattered garments, a dudou, gauze skirt, silk trousers, white stockings, and more.
Auntie had shown her true face again… Baiji scampered over happily and made a great leap at the bedside. Its little belly smacked into the bedframe, but that was all right. With a few practised kicks of its hind legs, it climbed onto the bed.
It moved close to Mu Nanzhi’s cheek, stuck out its damp pink little tongue, and licked Auntie’s face with all its might.
Every time it saw Auntie’s true face, it no longer wanted to be a fox, only a happy licking dog.
“Tuitui…”
Baiji suddenly turned its head and spat several times.
Auntie’s face was full of Xu Qi’an’s scent. It was absolutely horrible.
Mu Nanzhi’s eyelashes trembled and she woke up. First she wiped the saliva from her face, then stretched out a lotus-like arm, picked up the little white fox, and set it on the soft mound of her chest. In a lazy tone, she said:
“Didn’t I tell you not to disturb Auntie when she’s sleeping?”
Baiji hurriedly complained:
“Xu Lingyin bullied me. Auntie, help me beat her up.”
Mu Nanzhi thought, weren’t you two getting on quite well?
While perfunctorily agreeing, she yawned and said:
“Go out and play, go out and play. Don’t disturb Auntie sleeping.”
She couldn’t be bothered with children’s squabbles and racket. As long as Xu Lingyin didn’t eat Baiji, that was good enough.
“Hmph, I’ll get Silver Gong Xu to avenge me. Where is he?” Baiji angrily raised a paw and weakly slapped Mu Nanzhi a few times.
“He’s gone to the Western Regions to fight,” Mu Nanzhi said with a yawn.
That rotten man had drawn off quite a lot of her spiritual essence last night, leaving her weak, exhausted, and limp all over. Otherwise, with her constitution, why would she need a lie-in?
“You rotten little brat! Ruining my sweet dream!”
Mu Nanzhi tried to gather her drowsiness again, but failed to fall back asleep. She reached back and rapped Baiji on the head, then stared at the bed canopy above and let out a sigh.
The last time Xu Qi’an had drawn her spiritual essence so desperately had been when Luo Yuheng was undergoing tribulation.
That meant there was going to be a vicious battle in the Western Regions, one even more dangerous and terrifying than the battle during tribulation crossing, because back then he had only been second rank, and now he was first rank.
…
Ananda.
The sky over the Western Regions was a washed clear blue, far purer than elsewhere.
The terrain too carried a sort of ruggedness, nowhere near as delicate and fertile as the lands of the Central Plains.
By a quietly flowing river, several yaks lowered their heads to graze on the grass, occasionally lifting them to let out high-pitched cries. In the distance at the foot of the mountains, the meadows rose and fell, and the white-capped mountain range stood lofty and continuous, majestic and imposing.
That was Ananda.
The holy mountain of Buddhism.
Not counting servants, Ananda had more than nine thousand three hundred monks, among them over five thousand warrior monks and more than four thousand Zen Masters. These were the direct line who lived long-term on Ananda, cultivating Zen and comprehending Buddhism.
Buddhism had developed in the Western Regions for several thousand years and had deep roots there. Among the nations of the Western Regions, many nobles and commoners cultivated Buddhist teachings and made pilgrimages to Ananda every year. It was only that these people were scattered across the vast Western Regions and couldn’t be gathered in a short time.
Sunlight fell upon the golden roof tiles of one grand hall after another, and the whole of Ananda reflected dazzling brilliance.
Yet there was no chanting of Buddhist hymns on Ananda today, only a strange stillness.
In the squares before each of the holy mountain’s two hundred and eight great halls sat dense masses of monks cross-legged. Their hands were pressed together, their faces solemn, as though they were waiting for something, receiving something.
Ananda had an enemy.
And that enemy would arrive very soon.
These four thousand-odd Zen Masters and five thousand-odd warrior monks were both confident and uneasy.
Uneasy because this was the only time in their lives they had ever faced such a thing. In all their lives, whether long or short, Ananda had always been sacred and inviolable. Never had any enemy dared to fight their way to Ananda.
Confident because more than four thousand Zen Masters had formed a Zen formation, and the two hundred and eight great halls were its two hundred and eight formation nodes, with three Bodhisattvas presiding over it.
Its defence could be called impregnable.
Who in the world could break such a world-shaking grand formation?
“Meditate!”
Suddenly, the magnificent voice of Samantabhadra Bodhisattva, impossible to distinguish as male or female, rang in every monk’s ear.
Almost all the monks instinctively shivered inwardly. The warrior monks braced as though facing a great enemy, while the Zen Masters entered meditation at once without another word.
…
At the foot of Ananda Mountain stood a tall, powerfully built headless giant in proud stillness.
His upper body was bare, revealing strong, sturdy muscles, while on his lower half he wore a pair of coarse linen trousers.
His nipples glowed faintly like eyes.
Shenshu was like a piece of red-hot charcoal. The air around him was visibly warped, like boiling water at a furious simmer.
This was a kind of aura “unaccepted by heaven and earth”, the unique aura of a first-rank martial artist. Merely by standing there, he threw the elemental forces of heaven and earth into disorder.
When Xu Qi’an had fought “Desolation” overseas, he too had erupted with such an aura.
The Zen Masters on Ananda had already entered meditation and were as calm as ancient wells, but the warrior monks guarding beside them all felt their hair stand on end and a chill run down their spines.
Shenshu took one step forward. With a buzz, he struck the golden Buddhist barrier.
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