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墨書 Inktalez
Buddha, all beings suffer.
Buddha, may I use my own body as a boat to help others cross the Sea of Suffering.
Buddha has given much, but most of it is merely the voice bestowed upon us from his lofty position on the golden lotus. Since ascending the Altar, Buddha has not left the Temple; does he truly understand the suffering of Sentient Beings?
When Shicong was nailed to Buddha's body and his blood was nearly drained, the Young Daoist finally defeated Wang Ji. Just a single strike from the Divine Whip shattered Wang Ji's Three Souls and Seven Spirits, leaving him lifeless on the ground.
The Young Daoist surveyed the bloody corpses around him, raised his left hand to draw a Talisman in the air, and as soon as the Talisman touched the ground, all the bodies were instantly ignited.
“Dust to dust, earth to earth. Here I promise you all, in your next life, you shall return whence you came.” With that, the Young Daoist waved his hand upward, and the corpses were reduced to ashes, drifting away with the wind.
Shicong stared blankly at the black ashes swirling in the air, his pupils gradually turning to a dead gray.
“Is there still one nailed to the statue? This Evil Cultivator truly suffers inhumanely,” the Young Daoist murmured. Ever since he entered the Temple, he had noticed Shicong on the statue but had thought he was already dead.
The Young Daoist removed Shicong from the statue and laid him flat on the ground.
“No, there’s still a breath.” While moving Shicong, the Young Daoist suddenly realized this and quickly pointed like lightning to seal off Shicong's main bleeding points.
“Is it because of extreme blood loss that his blood has begun to reverse?” The Young Daoist thought to himself after making contact with Shicong and concluded about his condition.
Shicong was nearly at death's door; if he wanted to save him, time was of the essence. If he delayed, saving him would become difficult!
“To save him? If I do, I will lose over ten years of cultivation,” thought the Young Daoist. But he soon made a decision: “Just over ten years; it’s not worth more than a life.”
With his hands channeling power, he began to continuously inject energy into Shicong's body.
It was unclear how long had passed when signs of exhaustion began to show on the Young Daoist’s body; beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.
Transforming spiritual energy into flesh and blood was an almost divine technique; even for a Court Envoy like the Young Daoist, it was not an easy task.
"Ugh," Shicong finally began to regain some awareness, letting out a vague sound. The vagueness was due to the fact that he had previously chewed his entire tongue to pieces and swallowed it, losing the ability to speak.
Shicong slowly opened his eyes, and what met his gaze was the face of the Young Daoist. He knew all too well how merciless that seemingly harmless face had been when it swept away the corpses in the Temple.
Images of faces flashed through Shicong's mind—his disciple who had grown up alongside him, the innocent girl, those young women who had come up the mountain seeking a marriage fate, and the pilgrims he had helped ascend the mountain.
But the Temple was so clean, so devoid of even a hint of blood. If it weren't for the excruciating pain in his body reminding him otherwise, he might have thought it was all just a nightmare.
But it wasn't a dream, Shicong reminded himself. Those people were demons, utterly irredeemable demons. Including that Evil Cultivator and that Daoist.
The cultivators below were all demons who viewed common folk as ants; they deserved to die! Shicong gritted his teeth in rage.
Such people existed below; once they recognized a truth, they would never turn back. Shicong was such a person; he had been this way during his humble practice of sweeping the ground and meditating, and now, with murderous intent surging within him, he remained unchanged.
The Young Daoist finally could not hold on any longer. After channeling the last bit of his Taoist Arts into Shicong's body, he collapsed directly in the Temple.
However, Shicong stood up and reached toward the Young Daoist's eyes.
If you haven't seen all the evil in this world, then your eyes are better off not existing at all.
"Ah!!!!"
The Young Daoist suddenly felt a heart-wrenching pain, compounded by his weakened body from losing his magical power, and finally fainted.
Shicong looked at the two bloody eyeballs in his hands in a daze. This was the first time he had seen blood and also the first time he had harmed another. The Blood Qi within him began to churn, and even his unfilled stomach felt nauseous.
But Shicong understood that there was no turning back for him; he could only bear this sin. He wanted to ensure that there would be no more cultivators in this world.
Whether they were Evil Cultivators or righteous sects,
You all deserve to die.
A layer of crimson madness covered Shicong's grayish-white pupils. In the next moment, he resolutely stuffed the eyeballs into his mouth and began to chew them slowly. The metallic taste filled his mouth, but at that moment, Shicong felt no trace of disgust whatsoever.
He made a decision, and it was this decision that shrouded the entire world in a layer of Blood Mist for the next several hundred years.
Shicong had lost too much blood, but beside him lay the body of the Evil Cultivator, Wang Ji. Within Wang Ji's body gathered the cultivation he had amassed over half a lifetime by absorbing the blood of others, along with the secrets of Blood Cultivation.
To suppress evil, one must be even more evil, living off others. Therefore, I shall take evil as my main course.
When the Young Daoist awoke, he found not only himself, who had been deprived of his eyes, but also a corpse that had been drained to a husk—Wang Ji!
Years later, a self-proclaimed Evil Cultivator known as Ghost Fangzi appeared in the world.
Unlike typical Evil Cultivators, Ghost Fangzi's actions were quite peculiar. First, Ghost Fangzi targeted only cultivators; secondly, he seemed particularly eager to seek out other Evil Cultivators.
Most Evil Cultivators were greedy individuals. Many would occupy certain areas as their territory once they gained power. Generally, those with territory were highly skilled in Evil Techniques, so even reputable sects were reluctant to confront such Evil Cultivators.
However, for spirits within the territories of Evil Cultivators, this was nothing short of a catastrophe!
Ghost Fangzi had a particular fondness for these Evil Cultivators and was especially willing to invade their territories, using even more vicious methods to refine those Evil Cultivators into his own power.
With his exceptional skills and fearlessness towards death, Ghost Fangzi quickly rose to become the foremost Evil Cultivator of his time.
However, Ghost Fangzi's status was also quite unique. He never targeted flying cultivators; moreover, he would liberate slaves and similar beings from the territories of Evil Cultivators. As a result, at times, Ghost Fangzi even had longevity tablets in certain households and was worshipped!
At the same time, both reputable sects and Evil Cultivators held a deep-seated hatred towards Ghost Fangzi. He killed Evil Cultivators but did not spare those from righteous sects either.
Thus, reputable sects found themselves troubled by Ghost Fangzi.
Should they kill Ghost Fangzi? Yet his existence indeed restrained many Evil Cultivators. However, Ghost Fangzi practiced Evil Techniques; although he had not openly attacked righteous cultivators yet, once he encountered them, their deaths would be even more tragic than those of the Evil Cultivators.
Therefore, regarding Ghost Fangzi, both reputable and righteous sects maintained a watchful attitude.
However, there was one person in the world who remained deeply troubled by the existence of Ghost Fangzi.
The man was surnamed Jiang, a Daoist, and blind.
Some say that the Ginger Daoist is an immortal reincarnated being who blinded himself just to see the darkness of the world clearly.
Others say that it was only after he had blinded himself that he understood the truth of the Dao, and from then on, he no longer looked upon the illusory human world.
However, no matter how people speculated, the most important point was that the Ginger Daoist had blinded himself; and he had never explained the reason for his blindness. Because of this, his image became even more mysterious.
Only the Ginger Daoist himself knew that his eyes had been gouged out by someone he had saved. He did not understand why he had to be so cruelly deprived of his sight, never to see any light again.
Yet later, he surprisingly began to feel some gratitude towards the one who had gouged out his eyes.
It was precisely because he lost his sight that the Ginger Daoist began to focus on the true essence of things and no longer feared so-called dangers and threats.
The Ginger Daoist started to perceive the world with his heart, leading to many corrupt officials and evil cultivators falling under his Divine Whip.
The Ginger Daoist inadvertently heard about the existence of Ghost Fangzi, a slave who had been freed from the hands of an evil cultivator. His praise for Ghost Fangzi was overflowing, belittling all gods and Buddhas because none had come forward during his suffering. Instead, it was the so-called evil cultivator who saved him.
That person later died from a stab wound inflicted by someone who caught him stealing, left to die under the scorching sun in the street.
Before dying, he looked at the Ginger Daoist before him and asked, "My first half of life was spent in suffering; after liberation, I was burdened by hunger and poverty. Now I am to die here under this sun. My life has been nothing but bitter. But where are your gods? Where are your Buddhas? Who cares for me? Is this what you call equality for sentient beings? Nonsense! It's all nonsense!"
The Ginger Daoist calculated with his fingers.
"In your past life, you died because of adultery."
"In your previous life before that, you were killed by passing soldiers while robbing on the road."
"In your previous life, you drowned an infant who had just been born."
"And now, the official who sentenced you to death is the very child you drowned back then."
"Isn't it true that the reason you have ended up like this is because of your theft? Isn't it because you took a life?"
"Sentient beings suffer, yet they only see their own pain and choose to forget the causes of the sins they have created and the consequences that follow. This is the teaching of Buddhism; the calamity you planted must be repaid."
The Ginger Daoist explained patiently.
"Your insights are profound, Daoist. Then may I ask, what is the cause of my fruit?" A seductive voice echoed from above.
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