Chapter 37 — A Single Cry Startles the Deafened Soul Awake
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 1 of 3
Huo Ye's chest rose and fell; plainly his heart was far from calm. "With my own hand I cut off my arm," he said coldly, "and sent it to the Great Tingming Temple, giving back the powers that were the temple's. So why did you still hunt me down and scatter my wife and children from me? Since you were so set upon my death, why may I not pass the Great Tingming Temple's arts to others?
" The white-browed monk shook his head.
"Junior brother, one arm does not stand for all the powers. " Huo Ye laughed low in his throat. "Heh heh. Not every power in this body of mine came from the Great Tingming Temple either. Will you cripple those as well? I came out of the Great Tingming Temple, true enough—but in those days I fought my way out with my own two hands, and you did not dare bar my road.
Then I had a wife and a son, and you came looking for me again; it was for their safety that I was willing to cut off my own arm and give you back the Great Tingming Temple's powers!
" His face darkened.
"And after that?
You hunted me, you scattered my wife and children, you broke my home and destroyed my family! " "Go back? " Huo Ye's face went wooden.
"In those days I cut my way out by killing. If I am to go back, then by killing I must cut my way back in! " The white-browed monk's expression sank, and he sighed. "The Tathagata will be greatly disappointed.
That youth on the platform—he is your disciple, is he not?
You passed on to him the Eight Tingming Techniques, but you did not pass on the heart-method of our Great Tingming Temple, the Tingming Mahayana Sutra. " He looked toward Shen Mu, who was even then contending with a young man upon the dueling platform.
"The Tingming Mahayana Sutra is the dharma for subduing demons. Without cultivating that heart-method, the Eight Tingming Techniques may be refined to any height and still be nothing but an empty show. Today I have brought my disciple with me.
Chenghuai, come and pay your respects to your martial uncle!
" Behind him a tall, gaunt young monk stepped forward, a string of prayer beads hanging from his hand, and pressed his palms together in salute. "Martial uncle. " The white-browed monk's white brows streamed upward.
"Chenghuai is also a martial artist of the Spirit Fetus realm.
I lay my Zen staff here as the stake. Will you take the wager, junior brother?
" Granny Zhu's brows shot up and she was about to speak, when Huo Ye said without expression, "Rules and precepts—dogshit, every one of them.
I will take your wager. How does my head weigh against your Twelve-Ring Brahma Silence Zen Staff? " The white-browed monk nodded. "The weight is much the same.
" The Blind Elder, Granny Zhu, and Master Dan all frowned deeply and were about to urge him against it, when Huo Ye said flatly, "If my Shen'er loses, you take my head back to the Great Tingming Temple and show it to the Tathagata. If Shen'er wins, the Zen staff stays here, and you may roll back to wherever you came from, as far as your legs will carry you.
" "Very good. " The white-browed monk said to the little monk Chenghuai, "Today your master must reclaim the Great Tingming Temple's powers from one who betrayed the temple.
If you win, it shall be your merit. " Chenghuai assented, and stepped toward the dueling platform.
Upon the platform, the young man crossing blades with Shen Mu was a master of the sword, and he walked the road of Senior Brother Chu of the Lanjiang Five. His sword never left his body by more than three feet; but unlike Senior Brother Chu, his blade was not large—it was more like a dagger, eight inches long, small, and all the more vicious for it. This little sword would thrust out from strange places: from beneath an armpit, from between the legs; it would even slip inside his clothing, and dart out of his sleeve the very moment Shen Mu traded palm-force with him.