Chapter 178 — An Ill-Fated Bond
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 6 of 6
"Say no... more..." His voice was hoarse, choked so that he could not form the words.
Fa Cheng fell silent and slowly bowed his head. On the meditation bed, Master Pu Cheng opened his eyes, rose slowly, walked to Ming Li's side, and laid a hand gently on his shoulder to comfort him. "Child," he said softly, "if you wish to weep, to curse, then weep and curse freely. But what happened that day—you must still hear it to the end."
Ming Li sobbed and could not speak.
Master Pu Cheng said in a low voice: "By the time Brother Pu Zhao came back to his senses, the great wrong was already done. Standing amid mountains of corpses and seas of blood, he was struck as if by thunder, utterly dazed. A lifetime of merit and cultivation—all washed away to nothing, and beyond that, he had destroyed so many innocent lives. Such a crime, crying to heaven, all but tore him apart. In that dazed, muddled state, he fled back to the Brahma Sound Monastery and came before me—not for any other purpose, but to confess everything, to lay out the sins he had committed. In his bitter remorse he begged me, for the sake of a hundred years as fellow disciples, to make some small amends for his sins—that in the days to come, no matter what, whenever you were in hardship, I must do all in my power to help you."
Ming Li strove with all his might to master his feelings, but it was no use; a man who had not wept in decades, who had seemed hard as iron all his life, was now reduced to a figure of tears. His teeth were clenched deep into his lip, and a thin thread of blood crept slowly from the corner of his mouth—so violently was his heart shaken that he had bitten through his own flesh.
Master Pu Cheng's face was full of melancholy. "Brother Pu Zhao entrusted this last matter, and then the poison took effect, and at last he passed into nirvana. In his final moments he instructed that his remains should not be cremated or buried, but preserved and guarded upon the jade-ice platter—this ruined body kept, in hope that if the boy named Zhang Qingyue ever learned the truth, he should be brought here, and the body left to his disposal. To be whipped and reviled—or ground to bones and scattered to dust—the monks of the Brahma Sound Monastery must not interfere, as a thousandth part of payment for his sins."
Ming Li jerked his head up. Master Pu Cheng looked straight into his eyes, his face grave and solemn, and said slowly: "You understand what I have told you. My brother's dying wish—I have carried it out for him. Now how it is to be settled is as you will. In that little room in the back courtyard—whatever you intend, go to it."
Ming Li's jaw was clenched tight, his gaze deep as he stared at Master Pu Cheng. For some reason Master Pu Cheng seemed unwilling to meet his eyes, and slowly looked away. Ming Li's breathing grew louder and louder, his chest heaving, the expressions on his face changing from moment to moment. Then suddenly, as if he had come to some resolve, he whirled about and strode out; by the sound of his steps, he was plainly heading for that last little room.
Fa Cheng's face changed greatly. "Master!" he cried in alarm.
Master Pu Cheng shook his head slowly, an inexpressible grief on his face. "Let him go," he said softly. "That was your Uncle Pu Zhao's final wish as well. The world is full of suffering—how many can truly see through it? Amitabha..."
He pressed his palms together gently and chanted silently. In the room, all at once, there was stillness.
A stillness that was terrible to behold.