Two days later, Beijing.
A silver Mercedes slowly pulled up downstairs. Yu Jingzhong turned off the engine and pulled out a pack of special-supply “Zhonghua” cigarettes from his pocket. He lit one for himself and offered one to Zhou Hui.
Zhou Hui sat in the passenger seat, his high-collared trench coat giving him a cold, aloof air. He took the cigarette, lit it with a flick, and inhaled deeply.
“Brother, listen to me,” Yu Jingzhong said, taking off his sunglasses and speaking earnestly. “Don’t think about it. The more you think, the more you’ll suffer. If you don’t want to be alone at home, come stay with me for a while. You like little girls, don’t you? Our Minmin can keep you company…”
Zhou Hui, however, seemed to suddenly snap out of his reverie. He gave a puzzled “Hmm?” and waved his hand. “No… no need.”
His expression was strange, not as sorrowful or angry as Yu Jingzhong had imagined. Instead, it was more contemplative—though it was hard to imagine what a man whose wife had run away a second time could be thinking about. Most people would have had a brain hemorrhage by now.
Yu Jingzhong carefully studied his expression for a while, then tentatively suggested, “How about… Wu Bei has been arranged to stay at a hospital under the Special Department. If you have nothing else to do, want to come with me to see him?”
“No. When the second brother was barely alive on the road, he still made me stop to buy him a book of Tagore’s poetry. He won’t die.”
“…Oh, then—in a while, Yan Lanyu’s eighteenth birthday is coming up. I’m inviting everyone to gather, will you come?”
Zhou Hui’s expression was still listless. “We’ll see. Don’t forget to remind me to give the little beauty a red envelope then.”
He seemed somewhat distracted by everything, which worried Yu Jingzhong, but he didn’t know how to console him. After silently smoking half a cigarette, he hesitantly patted Zhou Hui’s shoulder. “—Brother, try to look on the bright side. Or, how about I sign you up for a ten-day tour to Lijiang, Yunnan…”
“To find a romantic encounter?” Zhou Hui chuckled. “It’s fine, don’t worry about me. I just… have some things I can’t figure out. Suddenly, I feel like I might find the answer at home.”
Yu Jingzhong looked a bit stunned, but Zhou Hui had already gotten out of the car, waved to him, and walked away without looking back.
Zhou Hui opened the door to his apartment and stood in the empty living room.
Even though he had only been away for a few days, it felt like a very long time since he’d been home. The apartment suddenly seemed so vast and unfamiliar. The sunset glow streamed through the balcony’s floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm, aged halo on the wooden floor. On the coffee table in front of the sofa, the rosebuds he had left in water before leaving had already bloomed, now in full, vibrant display.
However, the person with messy long hair tied up, a beautiful and pale face, always curled up on the sofa, half-asleep, was gone.
Zhou Hui walked over to the sofa and sat down, quietly gazing at the empty space beside him.
After a long moment, he reached out, and slowly, gently, caressed the illusory figure in the air.
“Phoenix…” he murmured softly, his voice tender and lingering.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had called out to Phoenix with such unrestrained tenderness. He had worn the mask of wariness and brutality for too long, so long that he had almost forgotten how to be a thoughtful lover, and was only accustomed to being a distorted jailer consumed by possessiveness.
When did this little Phoenix begin planning his escape, suppressing extreme reluctance?
And when did he start silently observing and evaluating his every move, using it to constantly guess the intentions of this cold-hearted jailer, and finally deciding to keep all secrets deeply hidden within herself?
—The bizarre Heavenly Dao, the ferocious Blood Sea, the son screaming in agony amidst a hail of thunderbolts, and the ominous fate waiting ahead, closing in step by step with ill intentions…
Did he feel fear when he decided to bear all this alone?
His body was so weak that even his bone marrow had lost its warmth, yet he was pierced by golden shackles that could once again control his health to a certain extent; his situation was surrounded by enemies and he was isolated, yet he still had to endure the worry of being abandoned by his only love. The hidden pain burned like fire, but he couldn’t utter a single word…
Did he feel a chill in his heart?
With what state of mind did he say, “Some things I do might not kill me, but if you know, you’ll certainly die”?
Was there any moment, even for a second, when he was disappointed by his partner’s helplessness?
The last ray of sunset disappeared beyond the horizon. The world was vast and dim, and an endless night was about to fall.
Zhou Hui buried his face deeply in his hands. The moment the sunset faded, he became like a statue swallowed by the twilight.
The Heavenly Dao was inscrutable, all beings were myriad, and the path ahead was as obscure as a mist.
Perhaps the story had already gone astray from its very beginning. Perhaps the tragic ending was sealed the moment Maha’s Heavenly Scourge struck and he stood by idly. Now, Phoenix had departed, leaving him, helpless, standing in place.
Zhou Hui stirred, finally raised his head, and then stood up.
In the darkness, his figure was strikingly solitary, even somewhat gaunt. After a moment, he walked towards the bedroom, paused at the door, and without turning on the light, went directly to the nightstand.
—Just like thousands of couples in the human world, their matrimonial bed had a nightstand on each side. The difference was that Phoenix’s cabinet was always forced open, while his drawer remained locked year-round, sealed with a talisman that Phoenix could never open.
Zhou Hui tore off the forbidden talisman, opened the bottom drawer, and took out a silver box.
He opened the box, and crimson fragments emitted a beautiful glow in the darkness.
These were the soul fragments he had taken back from the Snow Mountain Goddess, originally intending to return them to Chu He. But one sentence from Shakti made him change his mind: “—You can’t even take this? There’s more exciting stuff to come.”
He had pondered for a long time whether to pretend ignorance and erase this matter, or to once again peek into Phoenix’s unknown memories and understand those vexing historical events that he was now powerless to change.
Rationally, he knew he should respect each other’s space. Back in the Blood Sea, he must have had past events he didn’t want Phoenix to know. But emotionally, he struggled so much that he hesitated for a long time, ultimately missing the opportunity to return the soul fragments.
And Chu He later didn’t remember this either; his spirit was too weak, even a little thought made him drowsy, so many details were overlooked.
Zhou Hui picked up the fragment and held it before his eyes.
“Some things I do might not kill me, but if you know, you’ll certainly die”…
—However, death was not terrifying; the long, endless wait was the source of fear.
Zhou Hui closed his eyes, and the next second, he crushed the soul fragment with force.
A brilliant golden-red halo immediately rose throughout the room. Millions of light points swirled and danced, transforming into endless, majestic ice mountains in the void.
—Heavenly Dao, Sumeru Mountain.
__
Temples hung across the mountain ravines, with countless colossal golden silkwood beams forming suspended walkways, like long bridges spanning the sky. Phoenix Wisdom King strode along the railings carved with flying celestials, beneath which lay a bottomless abyss. His robes and long sleeves fluttered in the wind.
A young novice monk urgently chased behind him: “Your Highness! Wait, Your Highness, Venerable Bhadra is in the main hall of the Buddhist temple…”
However, Phoenix Wisdom King did not look back.
He descended the walkway, climbed the white jade steps, leading straight to the peak of Mount Xueba, and stood before the nine-zhang high gate of the Buddhist temple, which reached into the clouds.
The vast main hall was deep and empty. Amidst the swirling incense smoke, the Venerables sat high on their lotus seats, and Third Wisdom King stood before a meditation cushion.
“Phoenix Wisdom King,” Venerable Bhadra’s voice came from above, “the young novice monk said you secretly released the Blood Sea demon captured by the Buddha from beneath the Vajra Bell. Is this true?”
Behind Phoenix was the world of high mountains, white snow, and glazed ice. He stood before the magnificent Buddhist temple, fine ice shards mingled in his hair, glinting slightly like dazzling diamonds.
His face was as cold as ice and snow, devoid of any expression. After a moment, he said, “Yes.”
“Why?”
“…No why.”
Silence permeated the hall. After a long moment, Venerable Bhadra finally asked, “What do you mean?”
Phoenix said, “No why, I just felt like releasing it.”
The Venerables looked down from their high lotus seats at Phoenix Wisdom King standing upright in front of the main hall. Some emotions in the corners of his eyes seemed to be well-hidden; from such a distance, nothing could be seen clearly.
“Do you know what kind of punishment you will receive for privately violating the precepts?” Venerable Bhadra asked.
Phoenix suddenly laughed.
The smile was very subtle, so much so that if one didn’t look carefully, they might not even notice it. At the same time, the strange meaning in that smile was so obvious, if one had to describe it, it even held a hint of defiance… or even contempt.
“I know,” he said. “I will take the punishment in place of that demon.”
The Vajra Bell was ten zhang tall. Every four hours, it would strike ninety-nine times, its deep resonance shaking the entire Sumeru Mountain.
Since ancient times, only monks who had committed grave sins were cast into the bell, where a single strike would shatter their bones and flesh, shaking them to death.
Phoenix sat upright within the great bell, Third Wisdom King holding a demon-subduing vajra, watching him silently.
His eyes were closed, eyelashes delicately lowered. His pristine white robe spread out like a thousand petals, and his hair cascaded like a waterfall onto his robes, emitting a faint lotus fragrance through the gaps.
Such a serene face, as if the fleeting hint of aggression in his expression just now was an absurd illusion.
“Are you certain?” Third Wisdom King asked.
“…”
“If you descend to the lower realm now and capture that demon for punishment, you can still avoid the bell torture…”
However, Phoenix remained silent.
Third Wisdom King finally looked away. After a long moment, he lowered the bell cover. With a dull thud as the bell’s rim met the ground, he raised the demon-subduing vajra high.
—The first bell toll resounded throughout Sumeru Mountain.
The immense sound pierced his very marrow, and Phoenix’s entire body trembled.
Then came the second toll.
The third toll.
The bell tolls grew more frequent, like thousands of troops stampeding, or countless thunderbolts descending from the sky. Phoenix covered his ears amidst the violent vibrations, feeling his eardrums roar and his blood qi rush to his head.
The forty-ninth toll, the fiftieth toll.
In the darkness, the earth trembled, rocks cracked, and raging fires erupted from the earth’s core, sweeping upwards, entwined with demonic aura.
Flames roared and danced wildly within the Vajra Bell, manifesting scenes of hell. Demons opened their gaping maws in the blaze, letting out wanton roars!
The sixty-ninth toll, the seventieth toll.
The Vajra Bell’s toll pulverized every inch of bone, shattering the brain into pulp. In the agonizing illusion, myriad heavenly demon bells chimed, all sprites and ghosts emerged, vengeful spirits from the hungry ghost realm struggled to extend their skeletal claws from the gates of hell, and the Blood Sea churned with overwhelming waves—
Phoenix Wisdom King finally couldn’t hold on, and violently spat out a mouthful of blood!
The next second, a familiar figure appeared in the hellfire, reaching out in mid-air to cup Phoenix’s jaw.
—It was Sakyamuni!
Sakyamuni looked down from above, staring silently at Phoenix. His kasaya danced wildly in the black flames. After a moment, he wiped the fresh blood from that pale face and asked, “Why did you let that demon go?”
“…”
“You don’t trust me anymore, do you?”
Sakyamuni’s reflection shimmered in Phoenix’s pained eyes. After a long moment, he hoarsely said, “I…”
The demon-subduing vajra struck the bronze bell surface heavily, causing the slender body to tremble violently.
“…I just…”
“You just don’t trust me anymore,” Sakyamuni leaned down and whispered into his ear.
There was no disappointment or surprise in Sakyamuni’s eyes, just the same indulgent smile as many years ago.
The smile was identical to his memory, yet there was an indescribable difference. Phoenix stared at him, his pupils trembling slightly, gritting his teeth and swallowing the blood welling up in his throat, meticulously observing the face before him, not missing even the smallest detail.
Yes, he hadn’t changed.
Time had left no trace on Sakyamuni. This man, who had raised him since childhood, had been the same for thousands of years, eternally unchanging in the formless heavens’ void.
—What had changed was Phoenix’s eyes.
“You’ve encountered more people, seen more things. You’ve witnessed more landscapes within the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths. Now, you recall the past in your memory…”
Sakyamuni gently stroked Phoenix’s hair, as intimately as in those distant youthful days when he would gently hold him, comb his flowing, soft, and moist long hair, and then lightly press a kiss on his slightly reddened cheek.
So much deliberate tenderness, so much dangerous affection.
“…You’ve discovered tiny details you hadn’t noticed before. Your thoughts have gradually wavered amidst countless flaws. Your belief has completely collapsed as more and more truths are unveiled…”
Sakyamuni displayed his usual smile.
—That smile had once made the young Phoenix drown in a deadly warmth, but looking back now, subtle hints of chilling coldness were hidden within.
Phoenix gasped violently, turning his eyes away, only to have his face firmly held and turned back the next moment.
“Is the wavering of faith so painful?” Sakyamuni asked, seeming amused.
“If that’s the case, why not just keep believing?”
The bell tolls continued, each strike relentlessly drilling into his marrow, shattering his internal organs into blood foam.
Phoenix opened his mouth, unable to make a sound. Blood flowed from the corner of his lips, down his jaw, leaving a shocking trail on his neck.
“It’s you…” he rasped, “It was you who deliberately induced… me to like you…”
Sakyamuni’s gaze grew even more tender, almost to the point of wantonness.
“But you still fell in love with me, didn’t you, little Phoenix?”
The ninety-eighth toll resounded heavily. An invisible immense force shook Phoenix, causing him to fall forward, spitting a large mouthful of thick blood that splattered across his robes, even staining Sakyamuni’s wrist and sleeve.
But Sakyamuni didn’t care. He lifted Phoenix’s beautiful, tear-streaked face.
“Your pain comes from reluctance. Even if the truth is ugly, you still tightly cling to that last bit of faith, unwilling to let go…”
“How pitiful… That’s your only warmth, my little Phoenix.”
Phoenix gasped, finally mustering a last burst of strength from somewhere, and furiously roared, “—Let go of me!”
He pushed Sakyamuni’s hand away, struggling to stand, but his messy hair and white robes slumped to the ground together. His convulsing fingers couldn’t even grasp the ground. He looked utterly disheveled. Sakyamuni looked down at him with an appreciative gaze. After a moment, he leaned down in the black flames and finally kissed Phoenix’s cold forehead.
“My heart for you,” he said intimately, “is as it always was.”
He stepped back half a pace, smiled, and vanished into the void.
—At the same moment, a figure shrouded in golden light soared out of the great bell, suddenly shooting straight up into the nine heavens!
Third Wisdom King, who was outside the bell, raising his demon-subduing vajra for the ninety-ninth time, seemed to suddenly see something extraordinary. He abruptly stopped, looking up at the sky in astonishment—only to see auspicious clouds suddenly churn, followed by an even stronger golden light flying from the firmament, splitting the Vajra Bell in mid-air!
—Boom!
The great bell shattered, and millions of bronze fragments fell, making a deafening, earth-shaking roar.
The golden light gathered around Phoenix Wisdom King, forming a protective shield that, amidst the tremors, blocked all the flying bronze pieces!
Third Wisdom King abruptly retreated, his demon-subduing vajra clanging to the ground. “This… this… this is—?!”
Venerable Bhadra’s lotus seat descended. He threw out his prayer beads in mid-air, which instantly transformed into an unending barrier stretching across the sky. Brilliant white light illuminated the firmament, forcefully suppressing the shaking Sumeru Mountain amidst the immense roar!
Third Wisdom King stepped forward swiftly: “—Venerable!”
Venerable Bhadra, however, took a long breath. After the tremors completely subsided, he retrieved his prayer beads and bowed to the sky.
“Venerable, that… what was that just now…?”
“That was Buddha’s light,” Bhadra said calmly, his gaze turning to Phoenix, who was kneeling on the ground amidst the bronze ruins, coughing up large mouthfuls of blood.
A hint of doubt seemed to flicker in his eyes, but he said nothing. After a long moment, he turned and left.
The Vajra Bell, which had resonated on Sumeru Mountain for a thousand years, was pulverized, but Phoenix Wisdom King was still severely wounded after enduring ninety-eight bell tolls.
This might have been a good thing for him, as it was time for Sumeru Mountain to once again dispatch troops to attack the Asura Path.
Everyone knew that Phoenix Wisdom King had grown increasingly disinclined to visit the Four Evil Paths in recent years. In his early days, he had delivered countless vengeful spirits from the Blood Sea and emptied hell, but as thousands of years passed, he seemed to have gradually quieted down. More often, he would simply sit beneath the twin Sal trees, gazing quietly at the distant mountains, and the even more distant human realm.
During this time, the Heavenly Dao’s attacks on the Demon Realm became increasingly frequent, even reaching a point where the demonic lineage was almost completely extinguished.
After the Great Asura King was killed by Phoenix’s arrow in the Blood Sea, the Four Evil Paths languished for over a thousand years until, in recent years, a gray-robed Asura named Fan Luo cultivated a secret technique and dominated the demonic path, gradually recovering in the fight against the Heavenly Dao’s crusades.
To propagate the righteous Dharma, the Heavenly Dao dispatched the Five Great Wisdom Kings to successively attack and conquer the Four Evil Paths. To replenish resources and gain respite, the demonic path intensified its encroachment on the human realm. It was said that many countries in the human realm had reached a state of thousands of miles of barren land.
Warfare was like a nightmarish whirlpool, recurring endlessly, without cease.
From the peak of Mount Xueba, looking up at the sky, the vista was boundless, the firmament a washed-out azure. In the distance, continuous snow-capped mountains undulated ceaselessly, like coiled azure dragons beneath the vast sky, reflecting the glistening brilliance of eternal snow.
Phoenix Wisdom King resided here.
He had grown up here, supposedly the place closest to the Colorless Heaven of the Divine Realm.
Phoenix leaned against the twin Sal trees, recuperating from his injuries. Before him was a lake like a glazed mirror.
Legends on Sumeru Mountain said that the lake water here was very warm, and thus the lakeside was covered in thousands of blooming flowers, like a colossal and magnificent gem on the glacier; however, for outsiders, this legend was always difficult to verify, as it was an uninhabited forbidden area.
Phoenix gazed at the human realm, the mortal world beyond the distant mountains, his gaze beneath his long eyelashes as calm as water. After a long moment, he asked without turning his head, “—Are you here to ask me to go to battle, Venerable?”
Venerable Bhadra appeared behind the twin Sal trees, clasping his hands together in a salute.
“What are you thinking?” he asked in return, instead of answering.
Phoenix sighed softly, finally pulling his gaze away from the distant human realm and turning to Bhadra to return the salute.
“Let me guess…” the Venerable said leisurely. “You’re thinking why the human realm is tumultuous and desolate, with starving people everywhere; you’re thinking why the demonic realm is filled with lamentations and endless war; you’re thinking why the Heavenly Dao, which was supposedly a pure land for cultivating Buddhism, has now become the overlord of the Nine Heavens, Ten Earths, and Six Paths…”
“No,” Phoenix said, “I no longer think about those things.”
Venerable Bhadra’s gaze met his, but he only saw Phoenix smile slightly.
The smile was very light, like a feather brushing across his lips, so fast it was almost an illusion.
“I’m thinking… if so-called righteous paths and power can lead people to launch punitive expeditions and endless wars, why can some worthless things also cause people to use countless schemes to plot and monopolize them?”
Venerable Bhadra asked, “Are you talking about love?”
Phoenix did not answer.
“Love is not something everyone can have,” the Venerable said plainly. “Love is the most ordinary, the most common, the most worthless… yet some people are destined not to have it. Such people, seeing love offered before them, despise it yet envy it. They want to accept it but cannot reciprocate, and so they worry that if this love is set aside for too long, it will instead be offered to others…”
Phoenix’s expression changed slightly.
Venerable Bhadra, however, acted as if he hadn’t noticed:
“Therefore, to monopolize it, one must use countless schemes and calculations in place of reciprocation, ensuring that this love remains before their eyes for a long, long time, preventing it from being taken away by others in the long years to come…”
Phoenix finally rose and interjected, “—Venerable!”
Venerable Bhadra abruptly stopped speaking.
The two of them stared at each other for a long time, the atmosphere terribly tense, as if even the flowing air had solidified.
“Don’t… don’t speak of Sakyamuni like that,” Phoenix said softly after a long moment. “This matter, neither of us should mention it again.”
He took half a step back, seemingly wanting to turn and continue his silent cultivation that had lasted for hundreds of years. However, at that moment, Venerable Bhadra suddenly spoke to stop him: “No, I specifically came to speak of this today—I have looked at the karma for the next three thousand years and discovered some things.”
He paused, seeming to hesitate, but then continued:
“…Regarding your eldest son.”
Phoenix’s body stiffened, and he turned back in surprise: “Eldest son?”
“Your true form is a phoenix,” Venerable Bhadra said naturally. “—The phoenix will bear two sons, the eldest of whom will be very evil and greatly detrimental to the Buddha. I can only see three thousand years into the future, so I don’t know what the detriment will be, but there are always practitioners with higher cultivation than me who can see further into the future… perhaps a very tumultuous and terrifying future.”
Phoenix looked stunned, not knowing how to react.
For a moment, he even thought Venerable Bhadra was joking, but the latter’s gaze was calm and serious.
“But why…”
“What?”
“…There’s no compassion in your eyes.” Phoenix furrowed his long brows, his expression a little puzzled. “Venerables like you, who can see karma, shouldn’t your eyes always be filled with compassion? Because all living beings are suffering in your eyes, and the calamities of the next three thousand years are an endless sea of suffering that you should cross over.”
Venerable Bhadra was momentarily at a loss for words, even showing a look of surprise.
Such an expression on the face of someone who claimed to possess great wisdom and great compassion was truly unusual. Phoenix Wisdom King stared at him, tilting his head slightly, awaiting his answer.
“…I cannot feel compassion,” Venerable Bhadra finally admitted after a long pause. “Because I, too, will be swept into this calamity.”
As he spoke these words, his eyes were filled with undisguised helplessness.
Phoenix instantly felt a little absurd.
“The karma I can see, someone with higher cultivation than me can naturally also see, so I came to warn you to be careful. You’ve been immersed in the wrong emotions for too long, and I think it would be difficult for you to see more things…”
Venerable Bhadra clasped his hands together and uttered a Buddhist invocation:
“I have said too much today. I will take my leave now.”
Bhadra turned and began to descend the mountain. Phoenix stood still in a daze, then suddenly took two steps forward. “Venerable!”
Bhadra paused.
“You said I would bear two sons…” Phoenix hesitated, seeming to find it difficult to speak, but finally asked, “With whom?”
Bhadra turned back.
For a moment, Phoenix expected to see on his face either a slight reproach, like a stern superior, or a benevolent smile, like a kind elder. However, he then realized he was mistaken.
Venerable Bhadra’s gaze was somewhat bewildered.
“I don’t know,” he said. “That person… he is not within the karma.”
He was not within the karma.
Phoenix sat in the great hall late at night, thinking of this phrase. The desolate moonlight reflected on the stone pillars, casting a faint glow.
He was covered in wide robes, curled up, his soft, long hair trailing across the bed.
Outside the great hall, the vast starlit sky stretched over thousands of miles of ice, while inside the hall, he was all alone. A chill seemed to emanate from every corner, every crack in the floor tiles, freezing him inch by inch, from inside out.
I just don’t want to be alone, he thought.
Many years ago, he was indeed not alone. Even though no one cared for him, no one paid him any attention, at least he still had Sakyamuni. The two of them, in this place closest to the formless heavens of the Divine Realm, in this ice and snow world far from the mortal dust and human habitation, relied on each other, depended on each other, enduring one long, endless winter after another.
—But now, everything was gone.
Even if the truth was ugly, he clung tightly, unwilling to let go, because after all, that was his only warmth.
Phoenix hugged his knees, resting his chin on his arms, staring blankly at the cold, bright moon outside the hall.
He often wallowed in nightmares and reality, unable to awaken. On one side were the various mysteries and unbearable aspects he gradually realized as he grew; on the other was the pervasive, endless solitude, each moment cruelly reminding him that if he abandoned that false warmth, he would have absolutely nothing, from beginning to end.
Nothing at all.
How terrifying that was.
Sometimes, in the dead of night, he would deliberately numb himself, deceiving himself that all lies didn’t exist, and for a fleeting moment, he would have the illusion that he was still loved. However, the cruel truth would occasionally surface from nightmares, revealing a small corner of the wound, letting him see the festering, blood-soaked flesh beneath.
Under this daily, repetitive torment, sometimes he even wondered why he was still alive. Though outwardly beautiful and captivating, inwardly he was like a frozen zombie, without a shred of vitality except for breathing.
The dull, knife-cutting pain that seemed to have no end, and the endless eternity, even made him wish that Sakyamuni hadn’t lied to him, or that Sakyamuni could come back and continue to lie to him—he truly had no one else to think about; beyond Sakyamuni was absolute, vast desolation.
He thought such desolation would last until the end of eternity.
Until today, Bhadra told him that there was someone not within karma, who would appear in his life like a divine intervention, and would bear two children with him.
Phoenix leaned against the cold bed, slowly lost in thought.
What would someone not within karma be like?
Human? Demon?
Or a ghost?
Anything would do, no matter what kind of being. As long as someone appeared, so that he wouldn’t have to comfort himself with false lies in the endless nights to come, anything would do.
—So, what would his two children be like? Phoenix brushed aside the long hair falling across his face and couldn’t help but start to wonder.
Would they resemble him greatly? Would they be obedient?
Would they accompany each other and grow up together?
He looked down at his slender hands. These hands had once delivered countless vengeful spirits, slain innumerable demons, and been stained with countless blood for the sake of a “righteous path” that even he was confused about; however, from now on, they finally had a true purpose.
They could care for and protect his children, forever shielding them from all disasters and unforeseen events.
That mysterious person, not within karma, could leave at any time, but his own bloodline would never depart.
Phoenix closed his eyes in unparalleled peace, falling into a sweet, deep sleep.
It was the first time in many years that he had truly slept, rather than staying awake in the biting cold, waiting for dawn minute by minute. He even dreamed, dreaming of watching the Milky Way span the sky with Sakyamuni in his youth. The warmth in the dream felt like being immersed in a warm current during winter, so real it almost brought tears; suddenly, Sakyamuni’s face transformed into a blurry figure, with a safe embrace and strong arms, his breath hot and lingering, as if he could accompany him for a very long time.
Phoenix felt very happy in his sleep and couldn’t help but curl up into a ball.
But then, a pinprick of danger pierced his consciousness, making his eyelids twitch in his sleep.
—A human presence.
Someone was standing by his bed.
Phoenix suddenly opened his eyes, only to see a tall, familiar figure standing against the light in the darkness, staring intently at him with an extremely oppressive gaze.
—It was the Three World Wisdom King.
