CH 58

When Yan Budu woke up again, night had fallen.

The monk’s stone sword had returned to its original position. Kongshi sat upright in front of the bonfire, using an iron bowl to simmer something. Just like the past dozens of days, the cave was dim, filled with the light of the fire, and at a fixed time, the person always remained in a fixed position.

The difference this time was that a pleasant fragrance wafted in the cave.

After being domineering and arrogant for so many years, Yan Budu had tasted all sorts of miraculous medicines and strange herbs in the world. He instantly recognized the smell of this thing—

“Ice peak snake lotus… Truly worthy of an eminent monk. Heaven has given its blessing that even such a legendary object can be found.”

This thing was extremely rare, growing in the deep mountains during severe winter. It could be called a holy medicine for treating internal injuries. Zongwu Mountain wasn’t a place of great vitality, yet it could produce such a thing thanks to the ancient formation.

However, the main reason why the ice peak snake lotus was rare wasn’t the harsh growing conditions or the scarcity in quantity, but the lotus snake that accompanied it.

As miraculous as the effects of the ice peak snake lotus were, the lotus snake was equally poisonous. They liked to gather in groups with a number equal to the petals of the ice peak snake lotus, ranging from tens to dozens. The snowy mountain was already dazzling, and these strange snakes were transparent all over and extremely fast, making them quite formidable.

Not to mention the monk who was content and desired little, even if Yan Budu had the opportunity to see the ice peak snake lotus, he might not be willing to take it.

However, no matter how difficult the situation, it seemed that nothing could change the expression on Kongshi’s face. He casually took the legendary object and boiled it with his expression unchanged, as if it were just a strangely shaped mushroom.

Today was obviously the day when they became enemies.

“You’re quite something, Kongshi, being able to escape from the lotus snakes. It seems that I can have a good fight in tomorrow’s battle…” Yan Budu struggled to catch his breath, still not letting up on his taunting.

Whether it was because he was tired of leaning against the wall or not, Yan Budu sat back in front of the chessboard. With one hand supporting his body, even with a face full of illness, he still had a hint of elegance.

Yan Budu suddenly collapsed in the afternoon, leaving the chessboard with a half-finished game. He didn’t scatter the chess pieces, but just leaned against them lightly.

Kongshi finished brewing the medicinal soup and walked over calmly. He sat in front of Yan Budu, placed the stone spoon in the bowl, and handed it to Yan Budu. “Please use it, Patron.”

“Venerable, previously when I was weak, you fed me spoonful by spoonful… Why is it that even the lotus snakes have moved for me, but now there’s this distance between us?”

Kongshi’s voice was gentle as if his words carried a light breeze and faint clouds. “Amitabha, I have other matters to attend to. Patron lacks diligence in nurturing the body, but the distinction between light and heavy can still be made.”

Yan Budu was already accustomed to the monk’s evasive response. He snorted, picked up the iron bowl, and drank the medicinal soup in one gulp.

The medicinal soup had been cooled with snow, making the temperature just right. As the warm medicine entered his body, a surge of heat spread throughout his limbs and bones. Yan Budu’s bloodshot eyes relaxed, and his furrowed brow showed a hint of relief.

Despite his arrogance, Yan Budu wouldn’t waste time for nothing. He immediately sat on the straw cushion in front of the chessboard to adjust and heal his injuries.

This time, Kongshi didn’t help him like before.

Kongshi continued to sit on the other side of the chessboard with his hands clasped together as he silently recited sutras.

After half an hour passed, Yan Budu coughed up a mouthful of blood again. The strange blood threads seemed to gather, slowly receding from his limbs. His face still lacked color, but at least his body no longer trembled and convulsed.

Only then did Yan Budu breathe a sigh of relief and turn his gaze towards the opposite side, only to freeze in astonishment.

The monk’s hands had always been beautiful, with slender fingers and distinct joints. Previously, when he clasped his hands together in prayer, they were truly pleasing to the eye.

But now, they didn’t look as appealing.

Kongshi’s hands were completely exposed from his sleeves. The edge of his left palm had two small, pitch-black holes—the whole left hand, along with the arm, had swollen and turned bluish black with twisted veins.

A snake bite wound.

Yan Budu quietly observed the wound for a while. His face gradually transformed from a relaxed expression to a twisted smile, then into unrestrained laughter.

He seemed to have encountered the most amusing thing in the world, laughing so hard that he coughed repeatedly, struggling for breath.

“Venerable, is this the cycle of fate? Is this karmic retribution? Why do I feel like it’s a stroke of luck for me?”

The venom of the lotus snake was extremely toxic, and once bitten, even severing the limbs would be useless. Kongshi immediately administered treatment and possessed profound skills to suppress the snake’s poison with inner force, which allowed him to survive until now.

Unfortunately, delay could only be delayed.

With his profound inner force and close coordination with Kongshi’s true qi, there was a slight possibility of purging the snake’s venom and saving his life.

But within the vast Zongwu Mountain, extending for hundreds of miles, only the two of them were present. The only one who could save Kongshi was Yan Budu himself.

Could there be a more marvelous situation than this?

“Baldy, do you know what I’m thinking?” Yan Budu asked.

Kongshi ceased his recitation, calmly looked at Yan Budu, and replied, “Patron is thinking about how to tempt this humble monk with greed, hatred, and ignorance.”

“Correct. Since I have nothing better to do, I will explain it to you in detail.”

Yan Budu’s face was adorned with an extremely bright smile; the smile, blending with the blood vessels all over his body, sent a chilling sensation to anyone who saw him.

“I have figured out your precious and formidable Nightmare Breaking technique long ago. I can break the formation and leave the mountain on my own… I was considering whether to strike from behind. But this level of ‘betrayal’ wouldn’t catch Venerable’s attention.”

“Then I thought, why not pretend to be defeated by you and let you leave the mountain. My disciples have been waiting outside, ready to poison you when the opportunity arises. I could bring you back to our sect and slowly reeducate you. But Venerable has a strong character and probably won’t yield easily. If, by any chance, I accidentally kill Venerable, wouldn’t that be a loss?”

“Finally, I thought, why not go with you to the Jianchen Temple and then risk my life to kill the leader, that old bald donkey, in front of you? That would surely change your expression, wouldn’t it?”

“…Who would have thought that the plans of men are no match for those of the heavens. The arrangements of the heavens are even more intriguing than what I had imagined.”

Kongshi remained motionless as a mountain. “Patron has the strength to speak so many words. The reputation of the ice peak snake lotus is well-deserved.”

“Venerable, are you truly foolish or pretending to be foolish? Now, you’re not merely feeding yourself to the tiger, but actually returning it to the mountain.”

As the potency of the medicine increased, Yan Budu’s profound skills allowed his blood-red eyes to shine like ghostly flames. He reached out his hands, cupping Kongshi’s cheeks, forcing him to make eye contact.

“The head of the Jianchen Temple, sacrificing yourself to save me—truly an audacious move. Come, look at me closely—this talk of karmic retribution is nothing more than a hopeless struggle of the weak; a complete self-deception.”

As the snake venom spread and the vitality in Kongshi’s eyes gradually faded. He slightly raised his head, neither breaking free from Yan Budu’s grip nor averting his gaze; his eyes were as calm as an ancient well without a ripple.

A composure that irritated others.

“When I leave this place, I will kill countless people and set their flesh on fire when I return to Huilian Mountain. But it’s different for Venerable. If Venerable survives, he could save thousands of lives… It’s not very cost-effective, trading one life for another.”

Yan Budu attempted to find hatred, confusion, or regret in Kongshi’s eyes.

But he found nothing.

“Think about it. When I spread this news, how much infamy will the Jianchen Temple bear among the ‘vast multitude of sentient beings’? …If you truly care about all beings, why not kneel down and beg me? If I’m pleased, perhaps I’ll grant you some inner force and let you leave the mountain alive.”

He once again tried to find hesitation, worry, or entreaty in Kongshi’s eyes.

Yet, he still found nothing. The suffering of the mortal world rolled by, but those eyes remained untouched by the slightest dust.

Kongshi’s cheeks grew cold, and his complexion became somewhat grayish.

The venom of the lotus snake was extremely poisonous, turning the internal organs to mush and causing unbearable pain. Although the monk should have been in excruciating agony, that annoying calmness remained undisturbed, without a ripple.

The two of them remained in a stalemate.

Yan Budu knelt on the chessboard, bowing down with one leg while his hands cupped Kongshi’s face. The two were so close that it seemed they were about to kiss, yet frozen like an ice sculpture caught in the wintry wind, suspended in mid-air.

Kongshi calmly gazed back. There was a moment when Yan Budu felt that he was not facing a living being, but a stone-carved Buddha.

This person was simply incomprehensible. Yan Budu couldn’t see through him, couldn’t understand him.

Even though he looked down at the other’s face from above, he faintly felt a sense of pity.

After a brief silence, Kongshi spoke again. It wasn’t a plea for mercy, but a gentle conversation. “After just taking the medicine, your meridians are weak. It’s better to sit up straight and continue cultivating.”

“You…”

The surroundings grew colder, and the color on Yan Budu’s face finally faded. For the first time, he failed to disguise his thoughts and let them show on his face.

It shouldn’t be like this.

He had seen too many people who understood righteousness, weeping and begging for mercy as death approached. Even if ordinary people met their deaths bravely, death came swiftly. Yan Budu understood better than anyone the terror of a slow approach to death.

But he couldn’t find a trace of fear in Kongshi’s eyes—not even a shred of it.

Yan Budu suddenly shuddered. His gaze toward Kongshi became increasingly suspicious and uncertain.

“I won’t save you.”

He mumbled, his lips trembling.

“It’s useless for you to wait here, and it’s useless to pretend everything is fine. I haven’t had some bullshit enlightenment, don’t you understand? I won’t help you. I never intended to save you from the beginning.”

Kongshi remained unmoved, continuing to recite sutras as before.

“You will die here with your corpse exposed in the wilderness, unattended, cursed for a hundred years. You…”

Yan Budu didn’t even blink his eyes. He released his grip on Kongshi’s face and licked his lips. His tone revealed a slight wavering.

“…You’re a monster. Are you truly an emotionless and heartless stone?”

Kongshi halted his silent recitation and casually replied, “I confess, this humble monk enjoys eating apricots. It can be considered a preference shared by some living beings.”

If it weren’t for the decay and darkness on his left arm, based on his tone alone, this monk seemed like an ordinary person with no concerns.

Yan Budu slowly returned to his straw cushion; his face devoid of any trace of a smile.

Undoubtedly, Kongshi saw through his agitation. “Amitabha, Patron’s state of mind is unstable. It would be better for both of us to continue this game and steady our minds.”

Yan Budu had nothing to say.

Facing a game that was nearly halfway through and a monk who was about to die, he had exhausted his efforts and racked his brain, but he couldn’t find any words more cruel. Countless interrogations and threats, in the presence of this stone-like monk, turned into bluster and empty intimidation.

“Patron, it’s your turn to make a move.”

Yan Budu stared blankly at Kongshi.

The monk’s expression was gentle, just like on the day they first met, the moment Yan Budu stepped into the cave.

After a moment, Yan Budu seemed to have realized something.

He slowly smiled again, revealing a hint of bitterness in his smile. “So that’s how it is. A whole month, with thoughts and emotions exchanged… It was all in vain. I was the one who went too far.”

He had exposed his true intentions and worked so hard, but in the end, it was all self-indulgence. In the presence of this person, there was no such thing as closeness or distance in human relationships.

“Kongshi, from the beginning, the ‘me’ in your eyes was never really ‘me’, was it?”

After a month had passed, all that calmness and gentleness were just projections of the formless sentient beings in this person’s eyes.

Whether Yan Budu was a three-year-old child or a hundred-year-old elder, whether he had hidden motives or was naturally wicked, he was nothing more than an ordinary stone in this person’s eyes.

From the moment Yan Budu stepped into the cave, Kongshi’s attitude had never changed even a bit, not one bit more or less.

Indeed, equality among all sentient beings!

“People all say that I am the most heartless one. But now it seems that you, Venerable, surpass me in that aspect.”

Kongshi smiled faintly. “Patron, you overestimate me.”

Time passed unhurriedly, cruelly silent.

Yan Budu rested his elbow on the stone chessboard while his ten fingers ran through his hair, no longer the confident and spirited self from before. He didn’t make a move and just clenched his teeth, remaining silent.

“…Patron, if you can’t think of a way to break the stalemate, this humble monk has a suggestion.”

The monk lowered his head slightly, as if observing the game that was already more than halfway played.

“Speak your mind.”

“Patron, why not try doing one good deed? One should be enough.”

Yan Budu sneered coldly. “Nonsense. Instead of wasting time thinking about such pointless things, it’s better to save your breath and live a little longer.”

Whether in the game or outside of it, the battle between black and white, good and evil, was deadlocked and difficult to determine. Faced with an opponent without any flaws, how could he win?

Oh well, Yan Budu thought with a sense of confusion. In any case, he couldn’t give up on attacking.

After pondering for a while, Yan Budu tightly gripped the blood-stained stone chess piece. “Venerable, I…”

But before he could finish his sentence, he immediately fell silent.

It was too quiet.

The silence was not from the cave itself. The fire continued to burn, and the sound of the storm could be faintly heard from outside the cave. The iron bowl still held a bit of medicinal soup, and the stone sword quietly leaned against the corner. The edges of the monk’s robe trailed in the dust, stirring up a bit of brownish-gray dirt.

Everything was in its place, but the sound of Kongshi’s breathing had disappeared.

The monk remained calm, his palms joined together in prayer. He sat in front of the chessboard, still like an ancient, solitary peak that had stood there since time immemorial.

Yan Budu slowly released the chess piece. It made a slight sound as it touched the chessboard; a sound that, against the backdrop of the silence, was as loud as thunder.

In the end, they never finished this game. Just like the passing of countless days and nights, it was nothing more than a fleeting illusion, without a beginning or an end.

Yan Budu sat expressionless in front of the chessboard, motionless, until the long night was about to end and the snow reflected a faint light.

“You, monk, couldn’t you at least wait for me to finish this move?”

Finally, he stood up, muttering to himself almost inaudibly.

“When an eminent monk passes away, there are often signs. But now, looking at it, it’s just a pile of dead flesh, rotting away.”

After that, Yan Budu never spoke again.

The night gave way to dawn.

Yan Budu chose a sunny slope nearby and dug a crude pit with his huge sword, burying Kongshi on the mountainside. He didn’t erect a tombstone, only placing the stone chessboard to serve as a marker. When he left, he didn’t even look back.

Although the world was vast outside the cave, this time Yan Budu didn’t keep his audience waiting for long.

The winter snow melted, and the seasons passed.

In the blink of an eye, the mountain was still a mountain, devoid of snow in all directions, only revealing stretches of desolate grass. The makeshift grave that could hardly be called a grave was covered by weeds, making it difficult to discern.

But Yan Budu remained the same.

He was still wearing the clothes from that day. His face was no longer marked by dark blood vessels, restoring his previous enchanting appearance. The previous sense of despair seemed to have been nothing more than an illusion. He still wore that arrogant expression of self-importance.

However, he now had a jar of wine and a roasted chicken in his hands.

“After descending from the mountain, I encountered many extraordinary things.”

Yan Budu sat cross-legged, deliberately dividing some wine and meat as an offering to the monk. He casually rambled on, as if they were still having a conversation in front of the chessboard.

“I even met an immortal, believe it or not. Unfortunately, they couldn’t stand my demon fish eyes, so I can’t show you any images.”

As he spoke, he coughed up a mouthful of blood and then drank it down with a bowl of wine.

“On that day, you asked me about my plans after ascending to immortality. Now that I’ve seen ancient immortal villages and magnificent celestial palaces, I have to say, those immortals are more boring than I imagined…”

The stone chessboard stood alone, and the wine flowed slowly along its edges. Silence pervaded the surroundings, only interrupted by the sounds of insects chirping in the grass.

Yan Budu laughed—a laugh filled with unparalleled recklessness.

“They gave me a fantastic toy, you know. I had been longing for it, but when I finally got it, it was rather underwhelming. It’s better to leave it for the younger generation to fight over and to see the true faces of the immortals. It will surely be a sight to behold, stirring up the heavens and the earth, quite exhilarating.”

“As for the Ling Sect, I have taken care of it. I have arranged everything regarding the other clues, including my precious tomb… When I built the tomb, I didn’t leave a way back. Now, clearing away the monsters and reducing the killing intent is even more difficult than setting up traps.”

“In another hundred years, a group of people will come rushing about. But even if they find the place, all they will discover is a lock.”

Yan Budu waved his sleeve, and a jade-colored object flew away with the wind. It deeply embedded itself into the stone chessboard, creating a hole like a final move. The unfinished game from the past finally reached its conclusion, just as it was in the beginning.

But this time, it was Yan Budu who took the initiative to set up the formation. Three cycles of calamities; a draw.

“The key—I left it with you. You can see with your own eyes how those younger ones tear each other apart. It seems that you, Venerable, have accumulated great merits. A hundred years from now, you might even be one of the ones they fight over.”

Having said that, he fell silent again, as if waiting for a response.

But of course, no one answered.

Gradually, the wine was finished, and only a skeleton remained of the meat. Yan Budu stretched lazily and gazed at the blood-like sunset.

“After consuming the ‘Shirou’, one can ascend to immortality in a single step. But in this world, no one understands themselves better than I do. After achieving immortality, in a few months, I will surely be in the embrace of soft jade and sweet fragrance, completely forgetting about that wretched cave.”

“However, I can no longer find a second cave. So, slowly forgetting about it seems like a waste.”

Yan Budu lit his smoking pipe and leisurely exhaled white smoke.

“Lastly, regarding your suggestion of ‘doing a good deed’. As long as I remain myself, regardless of what I give, if the recipient is an upright person, they are destined to have an unfavorable end.”

“One good deed requires a clear reputation. Venerable, in the end, you still want to save me… How beautiful.”

As the sky darkened, the flame in the smoking pipe gradually extinguished.

Yan Budu stood up, gazing at the stone chessboard in front of him. His smile was arrogant, and his crimson eyes were full of vitality, undiminished from years past.

“In this lifetime, I, Yan Budu, have killed countless people without regret. Witnessing death without saving, I have no regrets. You believe in reincarnation, but I do not. Heaven and earth are vast and distant, if I can’t see it, then I can’t see it.”

“But if you don’t repay that favor, it will weigh heavily on my heart. With your good moves, I have my wicked solution. Watch closely, Kongshi. Today, I will perform the greatest ‘act of kindness’ in the world.”

With those words, it only took an instant.

Without hesitation, a sharp sword qi surged forth. It pierced Yan Budu’s own body, piercing through his heart, and scarlet blood splattered.

Yan Budu was a person who struck ruthlessly, without mercy, even towards himself.

“What a pity…”

He spat out his final breath of blood, silently laughing.

“…My immortal tomb took quite some effort.”

The sword qi shattered the fabric on Yan Budu’s chest, and a few round apricots rolled into the pool of blood. At his heart, along the edges of the black-red hole, a dark green spider-shaped birthmark lay quietly, gradually being covered by the fresh blood.

The Ghost Tomb remained vacant for ten years, and his half-life of immortality came to an end. A generational prodigy met his demise, ultimately becoming a tomb without a coffin or a burial mound.

Night fell, and the mountains remained.

The stone chess board lay peacefully in its original place, surrounded by overgrown weeds, with a gentle breeze brushing past.

The author has something to say:

In the end, a Demonic Lord is still a Demonic Lord, and an eminent monk is still an eminent monk.

The onion skin of the fox, quite perilous.

Kinky Thoughts:

The title of the chapter is (落子) which means to make a move (in Go). It has a double meaning in this context in that Kongshi died before they could finish their Go game, and Yan Budu returned to his grave both to make a move (finish the Go game) and actually make his move in the real world (his “act of kindness”).

I really love this chapter. I have to say it beautifully articulates how both “evil” and “righteousness” can be cruel. Yan Budu is evil in his actions and disregards human life, while Kongshi treats everything indifferently in that they are all equal in his eyes (with no feelings, emotions, or attachment). Truly beautiful!