Chapter 4 — The Great Vow
劍問蒼天 · Page 3 of 5
At this thought he gave a bitter laugh, rather self-mocking, and said to himself: I have only three days of life left, yet I still dream of immortality—am I not a fool vexing himself for nothing?
Yet though he had opened his heart, seeing the two children still lying on the ground, he truly could not let go. For a time he could think of no good plan; he looked left and right, and saw in the distance a single pine tree that might still offer some little shelter from the wind and rain—better than nothing. Mustering his spirit, he gathered up the two children and struggled toward it.
With great effort he reached the tree, set the two of them down carefully, and Puzhao, utterly spent, dropped to the ground, his back against the trunk, gasping without pause.
Heaven and earth are not benevolent; they treat all things as straw dogs!
This saying of the Daoists, tinged with a bitter, fierce indignation, Puzhao slowly recited aloud.
The vault of heaven was black as ink, canopied over the earth. Boundless dark clouds pressed down from above; threads of rain fell from the sky, fine and dense; a cold wind blew, and drop by drop the rain struck his face, chilling him to the heart.
He gazed up at the heavens. After a long while he slowly lowered his eyes and looked at the two children before him, and said in a low voice: "Little benefactors, this old monk wishes with all his heart to save you, but the spirit is willing and the flesh is weak. It was I who brought this about, and I have harmed you both instead—truly a sin! Ah, if only you two were disciples of Qingyun, up there on Canglan Mountain, among the others, you might be safer. But now—"
Suddenly Puzhao trembled all over, murmuring: "Disciples of Qingyun, disciples of Qingyun—" His thoughts raced. He seemed to have grasped something, to have thought of something, yet it was about to slip away in the blink of an eye. In that brief moment he broke out in a cold sweat.
Then, for some reason, that inexplicable fervor kindled in his eyes once more.
He threw back his head and laughed at the sky—but there was a trace of madness in the laughter!
"Wonderful, wonderful! My days are numbered, but if I transmit the Buddhist divine arts to one person, and then have him join the Canglan Sect to study the Daoist arts—would that not kill two birds with one stone? It would save both their lives and fulfill my own wish!"
"Buddhists and Daoists have been estranged since ancient times, never mingling in life or death. The Canglan Sect would never suspect that a young boy, raised at the foot of Canglan Mountain since childhood, might carry Buddhist ** within him. If one man could master the learning of both houses, he would surely break through the ten-thousand-year riddle of immortality. Heh heh—if so, what regret could I have in dying?"
His decision was made in a single thought; his whole body seemed fiercely exhilarated, his cheeks flushed, his eyes bloodshot. Instinctively he looked at Lin Jinghong and reached out his hand. But halfway there he stopped, thinking: this matter is grave. The sects today cling fiercely to their own gates and view the stealing of teachings with the utmost taboo; if it were known, if the matter came to light, death would be certain. This child Lin Jinghong is extremely gifted; if the Canglan Sect takes him in, he will surely draw his masters' attention. At his young age, he could never keep such a heaven-shaking secret!
At this thought something stirred in him, and his gaze shifted to Zhang Qingyue. He remembered the boy's stubborn temper that very day—facing death without bowing his head. He nodded and said: "A little less gifted—that does not matter. From here on, it depends on your own fortune."
With that he hesitated no longer. He reached out and struck Zhang Qingyue several times, using his remaining Buddhist power to revive him.