Compassion

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The wooden fish struck the block, one beat after another. The sound made Li Huowang's anger flare hotter with every hit.

"Li Sui, let's move! Let's see exactly what kind of demon is making that racket!" He grabbed the few swords from under his pillow and, with Li Sui close behind, leaped across the tiles toward the source of the sound.

It didn't take long for him to find them.

A group of monks. Emaciated monks who looked more like skeletons draped in robes. They sat cross-legged at the village entrance, striking their wooden fish in a grim, synchronized rhythm. The nearby refugees were awake, but none dared to so much as peek. They buried their heads deep in the straw bedding, trembling.

The moment Li Huowang appeared, every single monk turned to look at him. Some weren't even using their eyes. Fleshy stalks tipped with eyeballs writhed like maggots, burrowing out from the jieba—the incense-burn scars on their scalps—to fix him with a gaze.

"Amitabha. This benefactor, this humble monk greets you with courtesy."

Li Huowang stared at the old monk who had spoken. Gaunt past the point of recognition, yes. But he knew that face. It was the same face as the hallucinatory monk that always hovered at his side. This was the abbot of the Zhengde Temple. In the Great Qi.

"Amitabha. This humble monk has come to beg for alms. We humbly ask the benefactor to offer what he can spare." The abbot pushed the bronze alms bowl on the ground forward with both hands. The wooden fish fell silent in that same instant.

"Alms?" Li Huowang’s voice was a blade. "What if I refuse? What are you going to do about it?"

Black tentacles erupted from Li Huowang's body. Each one coiled around talismans and instruments of torture, hovering in the air around him like a jury of iron and paper.

Footsteps sounded behind him.

Bai Lingmiao had arrived. With her came a group of White Lotus believers, materializing from somewhere in the dark, standing silently at his back.

Not just her. Every able-bodied person in Niu Xin Village was pulling on clothes and rushing this way. In terms of numbers, Li Huowang held the advantage.

The abbot of Zhengde Temple stood up. He studied the White Lotus followers around Bai Lingmiao. Then, clutching his alms bowl, he pressed his palms together and bowed to Li Huowang—and simply walked away. The entire group of monks followed.

"Li… Li-shixiong? What in the world was that about? Those weird monk spirits… why did they just up and leave?" Gouwa asked, genuinely bewildered.

Li Huowang’s brow was locked tight. He stared at the direction the monks had vanished into. After a long moment of thought, he spoke to Bai Lingmiao. "Take your people. Secure Niu Xin Village. I'm going to find out exactly what those monks are up to."

It was better to know the devil you were dealing with than to wonder when he'd come back. And Li Huowang had a terrible feeling these monks weren't done.

"Li-shixiong, be careful. They have the numbers."

"It's fine. Even if I can't take them on, I can always run." As he spoke, Li Huowang's body began to displace. He swapped down into the earth, becoming invisible as he set out after the monks.

He should have seen this coming. The people of the Great Qi had come to the Great Liang. The dharma teachings of the Great Qi had come to the Great Liang. Of course the other sects and factions of the Great Qi would follow.

The monks were barefoot. Their steps on the cement road were perfectly visible. Li Huowang slowed his pace and followed from a careful distance.

They walked for almost two li.

Just as Li Huowang was starting to wonder if the demonic monks planned to circle around and hit the village from the rear, a familiar scent hit his nose.

I know that smell.

It was the smell of human meat. His eyes turned cold.

He looked around, then scrambled up a tall pine tree, using his hands and tentacles together. From the canopy, the scene before him spread out in full view. He quickly located the source of the meat smell.

In a clearing not far away, a small clay Buddha sat on an earthen altar. A large crowd of ragged refugees knelt before it, kowtowing again and again.

And beside that Buddha, Li Huowang saw something that made his blood run cold.

Several monks lay on the ground, their bellies monstrously swollen, their legs raised high. Dark red blood and amniotic fluid pooled beneath them, seeping into the earth.

They were not giving birth to babies.

They were birthing tangled masses of flesh, bone, and hair—shapeless, writhing lumps that pulsed with a life of their own, still attached by umbilical cords.

Other monks gathered these masses and carried them to large cauldrons set over roaring fires. One by one, the lumps of flesh were thrown into the boiling water.

The scent of meat grew stronger.

Soon, the refugees who had been kowtowing rose to their feet. They lined up in silence, holding out chipped bowls to receive the broth. They poured it down their throats.

They were actually eating that.

Li Huowang’s stomach lurched. A wave of violent disgust crashed over him.

"Benefactor. This humble monk greets you."

The voice came from below the tree.

Li Huowang’s neck went cold. Found.

Without a second thought, he gripped the Spine Sword and threw himself downward, straight at the old monk.

The saber’s rift carved clean through the monk's body, splitting him in two.

But the severed halves of flesh writhed instantly, knitting themselves back together. The wound closed as if it had never existed.

Li Huowang's attack had done nothing.

He glared at the old monk—at a face that was the twin of his own hallucination. "Fucking disgusting. What in the hell are you doing to these refugees?"

The old monk raised his hands, prayer beads clicking together. "Benefactor. Saving one life surpasses building a seven-story pagoda. We are saving lives."

"We know we cannot save the whole world. But we cannot abandon the people right in front of us, can we?"

"Feeding them that sick shit is saving them? Then why don't you eat it yourselves!"

"Amitabha. Benefactor, we are monastics. We cannot eat meat."

"But they have no choice. It violates ethics, yes, but it is the only thing left to eat. If they do not eat, they starve."

The words hit Li Huowang like a wall. For a moment, he had nothing to say.

These monks from Zhengde Temple… were they producing food through this grotesque method to save the refugees?

"Benefactor. In these last days of the Dao, this humble monk could find no grain. So we could only borrow the Buddha's dharma to protect all sentient beings, to show compassion for the people." The abbot's face was marked with peace, with a piety that glowed from his skeletal features as if a Buddha's light truly shone upon him.

"Aaah! A good man! A great good man! This monk, who looks just like me, is a good monk!" The hallucinatory monk standing beside Li Huowang applauded without stopping.

Li Huowang shot him a glare, then turned back to the abbot. "So you're saying you came near my village just to beg for food? You really have nothing left?"

"Benefactor. This humble monk and his disciples only came to beg for alms and said nothing else. Why must you make trouble for those of us who have left the home life out of compassion?"

Li Huowang didn't buy it for a second. "Compassion? Where was your compassion when you stuffed baby girls into vases?"

"Benefactor, why bring up that matter? They were all abandoned children. If we had not taken them, they would have been drowned or buried alive. This humble monk was finding them a way to live. That is a good deed."

"And making eunuchs give birth—is that also a good deed?"

"A good deed! Of course it is a great good deed! Helping a man have a child—how is that not a good deed?"

Li Huowang had nothing left to say. He finally understood.

These monks were indeed doing good deeds.

Just the kind of good deeds they believed in.

And the day they decided that murder and arson were good deeds… they would do that too, without hesitation.