The Great Black Heaven

Chapter 735: The Great Black Heaven

A breeze brushed softly across the withered yellow grass, curling a few dry blades.

The sky was leaden today, the clouds pressed low and heavy—much like Li Huowang’s mood at this moment.

After days of desperate riding, he had finally reached Qingqiu. But could what lay before him still truly be called Qingqiu?

The once-vast carpet of jade-green silk was gone. In its place stood a ragged field of yellowed, withered grass.

The situation was even worse than during his last visit. If the grass had only been yellow before, now the prairie seemed on the verge of death. He couldn’t help but worry about Sun Baolu.

But compared to Qingqiu, Li Huowang’s own massive problem was still unresolved. He didn’t have the spare attention to investigate what was happening here.

He gave the horse a light squeeze with his legs, and the talisman-laden steed galloped toward the city in the distance.

That was Qingqiu’s capital. Someone had told him its name once, but he hadn’t bothered to remember it. The only thing he recalled clearly was the streets paved thick with layers of packed cow and sheep dung.

Even though the Khan of Qingqiu had personally gone off to war, it seemed someone was still managing this city stinking of livestock.

No sooner had Li Huowang entered the city gate than several Qingqiu cavalrymen in tall red hats blocked his path.

Without opening his mouth, a low voice emanated from the cavalryman’s abdomen. “Where are you from? Where are you going?”

Li Huowang fished out his Liang Dynasty Sitian Jian token and tossed it over. He then pointed at the imposing temple rising in the distance. “I need to speak with the masters of your Zhongyin Temple about something.”

While the cavalrymen carefully inspected the token, the Qingqiu onlookers parted and prostrated themselves flat on the ground.

Soon, two rows of lamas draped in black sheepskin pelts walked slowly past them with their palms pressed together, stopping before Li Huowang.

They were clearly Qingqiu natives—dark-skinned, gaunt—but without exception, they were all elderly men, their faces covered in liver spots and wrinkles, their movements nearly those of men already stiff with age.

Li Huowang had seen these lamas once before during his first stay in Qingqiu. It seemed Zhongyin Temple had learned of his identity and sent someone to receive him.

Without a word, they bowed to Li Huowang, then turned and walked toward the pointed rooftops of Zhongyin Temple.

Li Huowang glanced at the cavalrymen, who had dismounted and didn’t dare show the slightest disrespect. He turned and followed the lamas.

A tentacle extended from under his red Daoist robe, snatched the token back from the cavalryman’s hand, and retreated.

Li Huowang followed the old lamas through the crowd of herdsmen prostrating toward Zhongyin Temple and climbed the steps toward its entrance.

Though the temple’s exterior was imposing and solemn, the interior was spacious and bare. There were no excess Buddha statues—instead, the walls were covered in leather murals, and assorted pointed stūpas lined the space.

The leather murals depicted all manner of strange subjects, tangentially related to the myths of Eternal Heaven, it seemed.

But Li Huowang hadn’t forgotten why he had come. He addressed the old lama leading the way. “I’ve come to ask you masters for a favor.”

The lamas said nothing. As if they already knew everything, they continued leading Li Huowang deeper into the temple, past a lively debate hall, until they finally stopped at the innermost chamber of Zhongyin Temple.

An old lama spoke toward the interior. A voice answered from inside. But they were both speaking Qingqiu dialect, and Li Huowang couldn’t understand a single word.

Soon, however, he could understand again. “Real Person Li… we have long heard of your name.” As the extremely weak voice trailed off, the pitch-black temple doors creaked open, revealing the dark layout within.

The moment Li Huowang stepped inside, he saw several mummified corpses wearing cock-comb hats, hanging by ropes from the beams overhead.

Though their faces were like skulls wrapped in a thin layer of skin, the ornate monk robes and elaborate bone ornaments on their bodies made it clear that these dried corpses had once held high status in Zhongyin Temple.

The room had no odor of death—instead, it was thick with all manner of cloying incense.

Li Huowang looked up at these things. He didn’t bother checking whether they were alive or dead and got straight to the point. “Since you know who I am, I’ll make this short. I’ve contracted a stubborn illness, and I need a medicinal ingredient from Fengdu to save my life. One of my junior apprentices said you all are quite familiar with that place, so I’m asking you to take me to Fengdu.”

Fengdu was the territory of Kui Lei, the Siming of Death. Anything involving a Siming was trouble, and he didn’t know the lay of the land. Li Huowang had no intention of charging in blindly.

He had already clashed with the Lion Dance Palace once. He didn’t want a repeat performance.

Since Zhongyin Temple worshipped death itself, and since the temple was currently cooperating with them against the Fa Sect, he saw no reason not to ask for their help.

No sooner had he finished speaking than he saw one of the dried corpses on the left begin to sway gently side to side with a creak.

“No? Even that’s a no?”

“It’s not that it’s impossible, Real Person Li. Do you know that Fengdu is no living man’s jiali?” Their words seemed laced with terms he couldn’t follow.

“Of course I know. If it were for the living, I wouldn’t have come to ask you for help.”

“Entering Fengdu is easy. But once you go in, you may never come out again.”

“That can’t be right. A friend of mine went there before, and it wasn’t nearly as dangerous as you’re making it sound. You just need to use the Transmigration Wheel to receive me on my way back.”

Li Huowang remembered that Yang Xiaohai had stumbled in there haphazardly and yet had emerged completely whole.

True, he’d had Hong Zhong to help him. But was Li Huowang now, with all he had, really worse off than some brat?

“Daoist Li, times have changed. We say this for your own good. Turn back.”

Hearing this, Li Huowang’s brow furrowed. “How have they changed? What’s happened in Fengdu during this time?”

“The Great Black Heaven has moved. It was supposed to die forever beneath the roots of Qingqiu. It was not supposed to move,” another dried corpse spoke up.

“What did you say?” An uneasy feeling settled in Li Huowang’s stomach. This “Great Black Heaven” they spoke of was likely Kui Lei, the Siming of Death.

“For generations, we have stood in Qingqiu, offering men and livestock as sacrifices—offerings of the heart, offerings of the body, offerings of emptiness—all so that the Great Black Heaven would remain content in its jialuoye.”

“Perhaps its destined number has arrived. Now the Great Black Heaven has left the place where it once dwelled.”

“So what does this Great Black Heaven of yours leaving its position have to do with Fengdu?”

He had rushed all this way. If he just turned back empty-handed, Li Huowang would never be able to accept it.

“No, Real Person Li, you don’t understand. The Great Black Heaven is the Wrathful Aspect of the Great自在天. Every time it moves a single finger, a village dies. Every step it takes, a town dies. Every ten feet it shifts, a city dies.”

(End of Chapter)