Chapter 819 — Great Compassion

CHAPTER 819

Great Compassion

“Amitabha,” Huikong said, without opening his eyes. “Benefactors, please don’t step on the causeway yet. This humble monk would like a word first.”

The Old Crater rose ahead of them in the afternoon light, a black mountain with its top cut off. Deep black marsh water ran round its foot, too wide to jump and too full of things that bit, and the only way across was a causeway of black stones four paces wide and three hundred long. At the far end stood the Crater gate. It was shut, and it would stay shut until dusk.

Halfway along the causeway, Monk Huikong sat cross-legged on the stones in a plain yellow robe.

He was young, with a shaven head and a round, kind face. His prayer beads lay still in his lap. Behind him, at the gate end, four more monks of the Great Compassion Temple sat in a row with their eyes closed. The eldest of them had grey brows and a black staff laid across his knees, and he had not opened his eyes since the Situ banner broke.

On the near bank, a Situ banner sat in the reeds nursing their wrists. Two Tang hunters lay beside them, groaning.

“Forty-fifth on the Tianxing,” Yue Shaoan whispered. “Brother Shi, that’s Huikong. Peak Deity Transformation.”

“Five banners have tried him since yesterday,” the Situ captain said sourly from the reeds, holding his arm. “He doesn’t hit back. He just sits there and lets you hit him. Then your own arm breaks.”

Shi Feng looked at the monk, and then he walked to the end of the causeway and stopped there, one step short of the first stone.

“Master,” Shi Feng said politely. “You wanted a word.”

Huikong opened his eyes. They were very calm.

“Benefactor Shi,” Huikong said. “This humble monk has watched you on the Mirrors these five days. You took the Gu banner’s cores and left them their boots. You let the Myriad Marrow’s lady run. You let Young Master Qu stand up.” He smiled a little. “You’re a man who leaves people their boots. So I’ll ask you plainly, the way you speak.”

“Please,” Shi Feng said.

“In the Crater Lake there grows a lotus with nine petals,” Huikong said. “Every banner here wants the treasures under the water, and that’s their business. This humble monk only asks for the lotus. Give me your word you won’t take it, and I’ll stand up and let you pass.”

“And if we don’t?” Hou Tieshou demanded, glaring at the narrow road.

“Then I’ll keep sitting,” Huikong said mildly.

“Why the lotus?” Shi Feng asked after a moment.

Huikong was quiet for a while.

“Three years ago, my abbot sat in the Temple’s deepest hall for forty-nine days,” Huikong said. “When he came out, he wrote one line. ‘The lotus in the crater belongs to a man who counts.’” He turned the beads once in his lap. “This humble monk was sent to keep it from anyone else, and to give it to that man when he comes. Who he is, the abbot didn’t say. Heaven’s secrets must not be leaked.”

Shi Feng stood very still.

A man who counts.

Shi Feng’s expression changed. He remembered Ji Yuanhe at the black iron furnace, counting in the dark so he would not fall apart. The abbot’s words fitted him exactly.

Hou Tieshou looked at him, startled. Even Jiao Lanyin turned her head.

“Master,” Shi Feng said, and his voice was quiet and completely serious. “I’m not going to lie to you. I came for that lotus. I need it for exactly that man.”

Huikong’s beads stopped.

“There’s an old alchemist at the princess’s pavilion in Tianjing,” Shi Feng said. “His name is Ji Yuanhe. Someone broke his soul and chained him to a furnace, and made him refine for them for years. He counts so he can hold himself together. One, two, three. Every pill, every step, every night.” He stopped. “That lotus is the only thing I’ve found that can mend him. If I don’t carry it out of that crater, he’ll count until he dies.”

For a long time, the monk said nothing. Out on the black water, something rose, looked at them and sank again.

“Benefactor,” Huikong said at last, gently, “do you know how many men have told this humble monk a story about the lotus?”

“Six,” Huikong said. “Since yesterday. One said it was for his dying mother. One said his master had dreamed of it. One said, very sincerely, that he was the man who counts, because he counted his money every night.” He sighed. “Words are cheap on a causeway, Benefactor Shi. Everybody here can talk.”

“You don’t have to trust a stranger,” Shi Feng said. “But you can ask about Ji Yuanhe at the princess’s pavilion.”

Huikong didn’t answer.

“Then what do you want from me?” Shi Feng asked.

“If you’re carrying it for him,” Huikong said, “then show this humble monk that your hands can carry what your mouth just promised. The abbot’s line said a man who counts. It didn’t say his messenger would be a weak one.”

He placed his palms together in front of his chest and closed his eyes again.

“Plant melons and you reap melons,” Huikong said softly. “Plant beans and you reap beans. Let’s see what Benefactor has planted.”

Shi Feng didn’t turn back. He took the pack off his shoulder and handed it to Hou Tieshou.

“Hold this,” Shi Feng said. “Whatever happens, don’t step on the stones.”

“Brother Shi, he’s the forty-fifth!” Yue Shaoan hissed. “You’re late Deity Transformation! You saw what he did to the Situ!”

“I saw,” Shi Feng said.

He stepped onto the causeway.

Halfway along it, the monk’s skin began to change colour. It went from brown to bronze, and from bronze to a deep, shining gold, as if he’d been cast from metal. When the change reached his face, a sound came out of him that wasn’t a voice.

Bong.

It was the sound of a great temple bell, and it rolled across the black water and came back off the Crater wall.