In the Moonlight

The north wind howled, and heavy snow swirled through the air.

Tanmoroqie had chosen the disciplinary hall of the Buddhist temple as the place for his power dissipation—the very hall where he had been confined as a child.

All the monk soldiers of the temple rushed to the scene, their long blades gleaming coldly. Under the leadership of the new temple master, they surrounded the disciplinary hall layer upon layer, both inside and out.

Li Zhongqian frowned. "Why are so many people guarding the disciplinary hall?"

The temple master sighed and said, "The King ordered us to come. When the King rushed back to the Holy City last time, his condition was almost identical to General Saisang’er’s before he succumbed to qi deviation and went on a killing spree. If Princess Wenzhao hadn’t arrived in time, the King wouldn’t have lasted until today... If the King loses control, we must confine him within the temple. That’s why he chose the disciplinary hall for his power dissipation."

Bi Suo, standing nearby, added, "Rest assured, Duke Weiguo. If such a thing were to happen, these monk soldiers would only restrain the King and would not harm him."

The blade left to him by Boluoliuzhi had long been chipped and dulled in the great battle to defend the Holy City. He and Yuanjue were destined to be unable to fulfill their master’s final wish. Whether Tanmoroqie harmed anyone or not, they could never raise a hand against him.

The physicians had also arrived, waiting outside the disciplinary hall. The medical officials from the Land of Brahma were still tirelessly consulting ancient texts, hoping to find more records about the secret techniques of the Land of Brahma, from which they could derive a remedy to alleviate his condition.

Back when General Saisang’er went mad and killed indiscriminately, the royal palace had burned all related records. This time, the palace lay in ruins. During the reconstruction, Yaoying had ordered the craftsmen to first search the storerooms for ancient texts and invited all the monks and merchants in the city who understood Sanskrit to help the medical officials scour the scriptures and scrolls for potentially useful records.

She wanted to accompany Tanmoroqie in the disciplinary hall, but he shook his head and asked her to wait outside. "This time is different from before. It could harm you."

Yuanjue went inside to guard him, while Bi Suo stayed outside to watch over Yaoying.

Yaoying had been by Tanmoroqie’s side during his previous power dissipations, but none had been as agonizing as this one. The moment she grew still, she felt an urge to rush into the disciplinary hall.

No one else understood—only she knew the truth: in the book, Tanmoroqie’s lifespan had reached its end.

She told herself that she had saved Li Zhongqian, saved Xie Manyuan, saved Yang Qian and those loyal, courageous scions of noble families, and rescued countless displaced, suffering commoners in the chaotic times. Surely, Tanmoroqie’s fate had long been rewritten.

But accidents could still happen...

Yaoying trembled with anxiety, her heart gripped and twisted by an invisible hand, as if sliced by blades and pierced by swords. Her entire body turned cold. She removed the Buddhist beads from her wrist, knelt in the stone grotto, and silently recited the scriptures Tanmoroqie had taught her.

He believed in these teachings, so she prayed that his faith would protect him, allowing him to safely overcome this trial.

The golden Buddha statue stood solemn and serene, silently gazing down upon her.

Outside the disciplinary hall, the monks gathered in the main hall, chanting and praying. The front halls, corridors, and squares of Wang Temple, as well as the long streets outside, were packed with crowds of people. Men, women, and children who had traveled from all over knelt in the snow, bowing devoutly and praying for their King. Only those who had struggled to survive in the chaotic times understood how rare it was to have a benevolent ruler who truly cared for the people.

In the future, history books would record the chaotic era in just a few words, but for those who lived through it, it was the stark reality of millions of lives.Some were clad in brocade robes, others in tattered clothes; some had red hair and brown eyes, others black hair and dark eyes, and still others fair skin and blue eyes. Prayers in different languages repeated endlessly in the biting cold wind, like countless trickling streams spreading throughout the Royal Court, traversing towering mountains and converging into a vast ocean. With an unstoppable, majestic momentum, they soared straight to the heavens, shaking the very earth.

...

Tanmoroqie could not hear the prayers outside the monastery.

Having dissipated all his spiritual power, every muscle in his body strained and swelled, his flesh writhing in excruciating pain as if being sliced apart blade by blade. The torments described in the Scriptures—being hacked to pieces, fried in boiling oil, burned in flames—were no worse than this.

Pain.

Agonizing pain.

So severe it made him tremble violently.

Skin torn and flesh ripped, heart shattered and liver pierced, pain so deep it reached the bone.

As if divine thunderbolts struck him head-on, layer after layer of flesh peeled away, revealing snow-white bones—a pain that gnawed at his very core.

From skin and flesh to internal organs, down to the marrow of his bones, not a single part was spared from agony.

He remained acutely aware of the suffering throughout his body, yet his consciousness gradually blurred, his soul detaching from the mangled flesh, drifting aimlessly.

Suddenly, a force pulled him into an endless descent, deeper and deeper, until he was submerged in boundless darkness and icy coldness. Terrifying visions flooded his sight: seven iron cities enclosed by seven layers of iron nets, spanning tens of thousands of miles in all directions. The walls were either scorching red-hot iron or gleaming mountains of blades. Iron fire rained down, reducing sinners to ashes; rotating blade wheels sliced open their bellies, leaving flesh and blood in disarray.

Forests of blade mountains and sword trees stood tall, long blades and sharp edges flipping down to sever sinners' limbs, reducing skin and flesh to pulp. Tens of thousands of iron arrows shot forth, piercing straight through the sinners' bodies, nailing them to the blazing iron walls. Some sinners wailed as they tried to flee, but they were trapped by an endless sea of fire, confined to the terrifying Avīci Hell.

On red-hot iron beds, sinners shackled in agony wished for death, only to be pierced through chest and back by iron nails. On nearly melted wax blocks, their feet slowly charred and dissolved until not even bones remained.

Yaksas and rakshasas brandished burning iron clubs, blades, and axes, smashing sinners' skulls and rupturing their intestines.

A chorus of miserable screams and howls filled the air.

This was his destination.

Endless suffering, endless torment.

Tanmoroqie walked among the sinners in the darkness. Iron crossbows, gleaming blades, fiery iron, and sharp swords fell as sinners scrambled in all directions. He stood still, unmoving.

Abruptly, a beam of light shone from above, the dissipating smoke clearing away. The shattered flesh and bones, wailing sinners, and churning sea of fire receded into the distance.

He found himself bathed in resplendent golden radiance, his vision filled with glorious light.

In the Seven Jewels Pond, water shimmered brilliantly, myriad precious flowers bloomed, golden trees bore silver leaves, and pearls among treasures adorned the scene. Palaces and pavilions stretched endlessly, floating in the air in magnificent splendor. The Buddha sat upon a lotus throne, surrounded by bodhisattvas who listened attentively.

Celestial banners and streamers fluttered across the sky, encircled by colorful clouds. Divine music drifted through the air as heavenly mandala flowers scattered. Apsaras soared amidst them, holding fresh blossoms as they danced through the void.

Sublime, pure, and majestic—the Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss.

A bodhisattva wearing a floral crown, holding a long streamer, and standing on a precious lotus descended on flowing clouds. With a gentle touch of a fingertip, the bodhisattva pointed toward Tanmoroqie."You have walked through the mundane world, witnessed the Avici Hell, and also seen Amitabha's Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. Returning to our Buddhist path will bring you liberation, allowing you to leap beyond the cycle of rebirth, free from all sufferings, and dwell only in ultimate bliss."

The Sanskrit chants reverberated, shaking the very soul.

Tanmoroqie regained his composure, pressed his palms together in prayer, and gazed thoughtfully at the faintly visible, radiantly beautiful Pure Land emerging from the clouds.

The Bodhisattva's voice thundered through the clouds: "Deluded child, what still binds you to this world?"

Tanmoroqie lifted his gaze, his jade-green eyes devoid of sorrow or joy.

What indeed bound him to this world?

His brief life flowed like a murmuring stream, enveloping him completely.

The vision before him suddenly shifted—he saw a cold, dim prison cell where his younger self sat on a worn meditation cushion, reading Buddhist scriptures by the faint light of a single lamp.

A beam of cool, clear light fell from above. He looked up, the silvery moonlight reflected in his eyes.

In this chaotic world of displacement, all living beings suffered. He would do everything in his power to quell the turmoil. "If I do not enter hell, who will?"

The young version of himself gazed solemnly at that noble, bright moon and made this vow.

He gradually grew older.

Tanmoroqie studied Buddhist scriptures, maneuvered among noble families, and made the Zhang clan relax their restrictions on him. Su Dan Gu endured great hardship, training rigorously in martial arts.

When the Northern Rong army pressed upon the borders, the noble families abandoned the chaotic situation and fled the city. The monk soldiers loyal to the royal family seized the opportunity to rescue him from the execution hall.

The night wind howled as he turned on horseback to look back at the Holy City standing in the darkness. He heard the desperate wails of citizens who couldn't escape in time—when Wahan Khan's forces breached the city, these people would become tragic souls beneath the hooves of the Northern Rong Iron Cavalry.

"Turn back."

He reined his horse around, holding his Buddhist beads, and spoke calmly.

Across the endless yellow sands, he used brilliant strategy to defeat a Northern Rong army vastly outnumbering his own. Wahan Khan not only suffered a crushing defeat but nearly lost his life, ordering a humiliating retreat in disarray.

He reined in his horse before the battle formation, his Kasaya robe flapping fiercely in the wind.

Monk soldiers, Imperial Guards, and common people knelt respectfully at his feet. In that moment, he reclaimed the authority of a monarch.

Chima, ecstatic with joy, led her troops to storm the Zhang residence, capturing dozens of the Zhang clan members. She marched them to the square where the former queen had died and beheaded them one by one. Bloodlust overtook her—she wouldn't even spare distant relatives of the Zhang family who were completely uninvolved.

He stopped her, ordering the release of the innocent Zhang clansmen who had been implicated.

Chima became hysterical, screaming, cursing, and hurling insults. Thereafter, whenever she saw him, she would mock: "You've studied Buddhism and completely chilled your heart! You have no worldly emotions in your eyes—you're cold, unfeeling, heartless! Truly befitting a monk, Luojia! You're destined to be alone all your life!"

Su Dan Gu fought enemies on the battlefield while the Buddha Prince intimidated the noble families. He walked through blood and flowers, his flesh torn, trudging alone.

He carried the Dharma in his heart, needing no one's understanding or approval.

The powerful families refused to accept suppression, feigning compliance while plotting secretly, their words honeyed but their hearts murderous. The court swirled with intrigues as powerful clans vied with each other, leaving the Royal Court beset by internal troubles and external threats. Meanwhile, Northern Rong grew increasingly powerful. Wahan Khan placed great trust in Haidu Aling, who proved brave and skilled in battle. Though lacking formal education, he excelled in both civil and military affairs, daring to employ unexpected strategies that expanded Northern Rong's territory and repeatedly achieved remarkable victories.As long as he lived, Wahan Khan could not breach the Holy City. However, after suffering several cultivation backlashes, he was nearing the end of his strength. When attending Buddhist ceremonies, he had to be carried out by the Imperial Guards. Meanwhile, Haidu Aling was at the peak of his power. Once Haidu Aling succeeded as the Khan of Northern Rong, the Royal Court would be in grave danger.

He wanted to lead troops to attack Northern Rong before Haidu Aling seized power, to weaken Northern Rong's military strength and buy the Royal Court some breathing room.

The ministers strongly opposed this plan. They looked down upon and were hostile toward tribal cavalry, unwilling to cooperate with tribal soldiers. Exhausted and strained, he could not organize a major campaign in such a short time.

Not long after, tragic news arrived: Haidu Aling, embroiled in conflicts with the other princes, took advantage of Wahan Khan's negligence to lead troops in a bloody purge of the main tent, killing Wahan Khan and several of his sons. He was then proclaimed the new Khan.

Seated in the Buddha Hall, he turned his Buddhist beads and let out a soft sigh before leaving his final decree.

After Haidu Aling became the ruler of Northern Rong, he quickly assembled his forces and launched a surprise attack on the Royal Court.

This time, Haidu Aling would not easily withdraw his troops.

Already on the brink of death and aware that his time was short, he ordered Bi Suo and the others to leave the Royal Court while he stayed behind to defend the city, buying more time for the civilians to evacuate.

Every person who escaped was a life saved.

As for himself, he had long foreseen his own fate.

Bi Suo wept, begging to take him along. He smiled faintly.

"I am the King of the Holy City, the Buddha Prince of the Royal Court."

"Go now, escort the women and children to safety. As the commander of the Imperial Guards, your duty is to protect the people."

Bi Suo sobbed uncontrollably.

His own expression remained utterly calm.

The Northern Rong Iron Cavalry was unstoppable, and their siege weapons were immensely powerful. One after another, trebuchets hurled massive stones into the city. The thunderous roars shook the heavens, and shattered debris fell like a sudden downpour, causing roofs and halls to crumble and collapse.

He sat cross-legged before the Buddha statue, utterly exhausted, relying solely on willpower to keep from falling—like a walking corpse, nothing but an empty shell.

Outside the hall, battle cries pierced the clouds and shattered stones. The Buddhist beads in his hand felt cold, while the Buddha statue stood majestic and dignified.

He sat upright, slowly closing his eyes.

He was tired.

But he did not fall.

In the deep, cold night, he passed away in the Buddha Hall, guarding the Holy City until his last breath.

He had never known a moment of relaxation in life, and even in death, he dared not slacken.

Outside the hall, wails and sobs filled the air.

Following his instructions, the Monk Soldiers did not announce his death. Haidu Aling, who still held some fear and wariness toward him, did not recklessly assault the city, allowing the Holy City to hold out for a while longer.

But after he failed to appear for many days, Haidu Aling eventually noticed something amiss and stormed the Holy City.

When the Northern Rong Iron Cavalry charged into the Wang Temple and saw the corpse still seated before the Buddha, they were profoundly shaken.

Meanwhile, he drifted in mid-air, watching the fleeting moments of his brief life flash before his eyes, his expression unmoved.

The voice of the Bodhisattva echoed in his ears: "Life, death, and nirvana are but yesterday's dream. Foolish child, follow me, and you shall be freed from the suffering of the five aggregates. Henceforth, all will be emptiness, and you shall attain supreme enlightenment."

Tanmoroqie lifted his gaze to the resplendent towers and palaces shimmering among the clouds but remained silent.

The Bodhisattva frowned in anger: "Foolish child! Do you wish to fall into the Avīci Hell and endure endless torment?"

Tanmoroqie looked down beneath his feet, where unseen in the abyss, sinners suffered agonizing torment against iron walls.

The Bodhisattva grew even more imposing, shaking a banner that instantly filled the sky with thunder.

"I am the guiding Bodhisattva, here to lead you on the path to rebirth. Foolish child, why do you not follow me?"Tanmoroqie closed his eyes for a moment. When he reopened them, his gaze was as cold as snow, devoid of any worldly attachment, and he followed the Bodhisattva.

……

Beneath his feet, clouds surged and the mortal world rolled like waves when suddenly a voice called out to him from afar.

Above, the guiding Bodhisattva roared in anger, and banners fluttered fiercely in the wind.

The voice carried by the wind was faint, blurred, like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings or a gentle breeze—unable to stir even the slightest ripple—yet it called out with unwavering persistence.

“Luojia… Luojia…”

Tanmoroqie halted and turned back.

It seemed he had forgotten something.

Enchanting chants, the Buddha’s sutra debates with the Bodhisattvas, and the enticing urgings of the guiding Bodhisattva echoed between heaven and earth. That faint, trembling voice drifted over and ensnared him. Drawn by it, he felt neither sorrow nor joy.

The voice sounded again, tinged with a faint sob, heart-wrenching and sorrowful.

“Luojia… you promised me… I’m waiting for you…”

The voice was achingly familiar.

In an instant, a sharp, intricate pain blossomed in Tanmoroqie’s heart.

Princess, don’t cry.

He looked down and saw a red hair ribbon tightly wrapped around his wrist.

He was destined to walk this life alone, just as the Bodhisattva had shown him—to live in solitude and die in solitude.

But there was one person who had crossed mountains and rivers to reach his side, standing with him through storms and hardships.

He wanted to live. He wanted to wake each day to see her joyful, smiling face.

Suddenly, a fierce gale swept through. He saw the Holy City—half in ruins, half towering majestically—as snow fell thick and fast. The Buddhist temple stood solemn and grand amidst the snow. Outside, a dark mass of people knelt along the ten-mile-long streets and across the plazas, weeping as they bowed in worship toward the Wang Temple, calling out his dharma name.

“Your Majesty, come back!”

“Your Majesty, do not abandon us!”

“Take our lifespans in exchange for our King!”

“Bring our King back!”

Their desperate cries were torn apart and scattered by the wind.

Tanmoroqie passed through the weeping crowds, through the great hall where bells and drums sounded amid lamentations, through the Imperial Guards and Monk Soldiers kneeling silently at the steps, through the brightly lit grotto, and returned to the prison chamber where he had been confined as a child.

There, he saw a figure from behind.

She was crouched before a meditation cushion, clutching a blood-soaked, stiffened man, tears streaming down her face.

“Luojia… I’m waiting for you…”

She bent her head, her forehead pressed against his, calling his name again and again.

Tears fell from her eyes. She did not sob aloud but spoke softly, tenderly, “Luojia, I’m waiting for you.”

A sharp, twisting pain seized Tanmoroqie’s heart.

All conditioned phenomena are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, shadows, like dew and like lightning.

Life is as fleeting as morning dew. Thus, to lose her would be to lose her forever. He must seize this lifetime firmly and live it well.

When the heart awakens, one sees one’s true nature.

Suddenly, banners flapped wildly in the wind.

The illusions in the clouds instantly turned to dust, and the divine chants and music receded like the tide.

A distant voice rang out in the air, majestic and commanding.

“All conditioned things are impermanent, subject to birth and death. With the cessation of birth and death, nirvana is bliss… Each ending is a beginning, an unending cycle of birth and death—such is the law of arising and ceasing. Break first, then build; retreat to death’s door, then be reborn…”

The voice gradually faded into the distance.Tanmoroqie could no longer hear the words that followed. His eyes held only that tear-streaked face as he raised a hand to gently brush away a glistening teardrop trembling between her curled lashes.

"Don't cry."

She should smile more—he loved seeing her smile.

Yaoying stood frozen.

Warm breath brushed her face as icy fingers traced her cheek. She lifted her gaze to meet his, and a cool kiss descended upon her eyes, still swimming with tears and crimson streaks.

She remained rigid, locked in his gaze.

He watched her, the corners of his lips lifting slightly as he pressed his hand against her neck, forehead resting against hers. "Bright Moon Slave, I've returned."

Yaoying couldn't believe it, staring at him in stunned silence.

The next moment, as if awakening from a dream, tears cascaded down her cheeks. Trembling, she threw herself into his embrace, clutching him tightly.

"You deceived me!"

The words finally broke through her sobs.

Tanmoroqie held Yaoying close, lowering his head to kiss her crown, her brow, the tip of her nose, before finally capturing her lips and parting them with his own.

Tongues intertwined, breaths mingled.

She shivered uncontrollably while he was drenched in blood. They tangled together desperately, collapsing onto the meditation cushion as if trying to press each other into their very bones.

Swallowing, sucking, exploring every corner, sweeping through her sweetness—only when her ears rang and dizziness overwhelmed her did he release her soft, fragrant lips to kiss away the tears at the corners of her eyes.

Sudden footsteps erupted.

Li Zhongqian, Bi Suo, and Yuanjue, hearing voices within, burst into the punishment hall. Seeing Tanmoroqie conscious, they stood gaping.

After a long pause, comprehension dawned. Ecstatic, they chanted Buddhist prayers, trembling with emotion.

"Quick! Summon the physicians!"

Several physicians rushed in, equally stunned and incredulous at the sight of Tanmoroqie.

Yuanjue wiped his tears while pushing them forward, urging, "Examine him quickly! The King has awakened!"

The physicians snapped to attention, scrambling to Tanmoroqie's side. With trembling hands, they checked his pulse and lifted his robes to inspect several bleeding wounds.

Yaoying moved aside to let Mengda Ti Po approach, but a sudden force yanked her back as her hand was seized.

Tanmoroqie gripped her hand, blood still smeared across his face, his gaze darkening. "Don't go anywhere. Stay with me."

Yaoying's heart swelled with joy threatening to overflow. She settled beside him, not moving again.

"How long was I unconscious?"

Tanmoroqie asked.

The physicians exchanged glances before answering, "Your Majesty, you were unconscious for two full days and nights."

...

Two days prior, during his power dissipation, Tanmoroqie's muscles had suddenly bulged violently while his True Qi surged. His blood and energy churned in reverse, multiple wounds bleeding uncontrollably. Yuanjue panicked, frantically calling for help. When Bi Suo and the monk soldiers arrived attempting to help circulate his energy, they were injured by his raging True Qi before even approaching, collapsing to the ground vomiting blood.

Though his flesh was torn, Bi Suo forced himself forward. Hearing the commotion, Yaoying also rushed in.

Tanmoroqie lifted his head, emerald eyes sweeping over her.

In the next moment, blood poured from all seven orifices, and his eyes never opened again.

The physicians took turns checking his pulse, repeatedly confirming their diagnosis: he clung to life by the faintest thread, beyond all medical treatment, likely to pass at any moment.

Wailing shook the halls beyond.

Following his prior instructions, everyone withdrew except Yaoying, who remained alone by his side to accompany him through his final hours.Li Zhongqian feared Yaoying would grieve herself to exhaustion and tried to persuade her to rest, but she refused to leave. She kept vigil by his side with little food or sleep, feeding him medicine and wiping his body. When he could no longer swallow, she pried open his lips to administer the medicine drop by drop.

No one had expected Tanmoroqie to regain consciousness.

...

Tanmoroqie gazed at Yaoying.

She was biting her lip, anxiously listening to the physicians with swollen red eyes and flushed nose, her face haggard with tear stains still glistening.

For two days she had kept watch like this, calling his name.

He had made her worry.

He drew her close and kissed her weary brows.

The physicians lowered their heads. Bi Suo beamed with joy while Yuanjue blushed and turned away.

Only Li Zhongqian snorted coldly and rolled his eyes - he had been certain of Tanmoroqie's impending death and had already arranged horses and men for their return to Gaochang.

"How is he? Have there been any changes in his pulse?" Yaoying gently pushed Tanmoroqie aside and asked the physicians with trepidation.

The physician frowned deeply, exchanged a glance with the others, and said, "The King's pulse remains unchanged... It's still as weak and floating as before and after the Power dissipation. Logically, after the King dissipated his power, his pulse should have returned to normal..."

Yaoying quickly asked, "Is this good or bad?"

The physician shook his head, his expression grave. "We've never seen such a pulse before. When the King dissipated his power, he bled from all seven orifices, which should have been caused by his body failing to withstand the Cultivation method, resulting in reversed Qi and blood flow. Yet, the King woke up after two days of unconsciousness—it's truly unfathomable..."

Bi Suo frowned and said, "If it had returned to normal, the King wouldn't have woken up. Since he did, it must be a good sign."

Some nodded in agreement, while others remained worried and anxious.

Yaoying's heart tightened again.

Tanmoroqie remained silent, turned his wrist, and sent out a palm strike. Bi Suo staggered back several steps.

Everyone was stunned, gasping in surprise.

Bi Suo's eyes widened in disbelief.

Tanmoroqie's power was still intact!

The physicians looked at each other in confusion.

After Tanmoroqie's Power dissipation, he shouldn't have any Internal Force left. This time, the dissipation had been so intense that he even bled from all seven orifices—it should have completely crippled his Cultivation method. How could he still force Bi Suo back with a single palm strike?

Yuanjue, pale and trembling, asked fearfully, "Did the Power dissipation fail? Does it need to be done again?"

The King already bled from all seven orifices. If it happens again, how could he endure it?

Tanmoroqie shook his head and looked at Mengda Ti Po. "I feel my meridians are clear and unobstructed. I no longer need to constantly suppress my Qi and blood flow, so there's no need to dissipate my power again for now."

Mengda Ti Po checked several acupoints on his body and nodded.

A glimmer of insight flashed in the physician's eyes. "Could it be that the King accidentally discovered the true method to suppress the Cultivation method?"

At these words, expressions of pleasant surprise spread across everyone's faces.

"I heard that when the King returned to the Holy City, he was devoid of emotions and desires, much like General Sai Sang'er before his Qi deviation," Mengda Ti Po said slowly. "Perhaps the King was indeed on the verge of Qi deviation back then. A single misstep could have caused his life force to scatter and lead to death. But the King took a large amount of elixir, forcibly restrained it, and survived the calamity. With his strong will, he endured all these days of suffering. The elixir integrated with his entire meridian system, just right to truly restrain the martial arts."

The physicians exchanged varied expressions and retreated to a corner to discuss in low voices.

"The King has practiced the Cultivation method since childhood and can endure what ordinary people cannot. It's very likely that he has already mastered the method unconsciously. The final loss of control over the method was both a deadly calamity and a chance for survival."

"We can't draw conclusions yet. Let's wait and see."

"Regardless, the King's awakening is already a sign of improvement."

They were all speaking in Brahmi, which Yaoying couldn't understand. Anxiously watching them, her face tense, her heart was in turmoil.

A slight warmth touched the back of her hand.

Tanmoroqie looked down and held her hand.

"Don't worry, I'm much better now, truly."

He smiled faintly. "I'm not lying to you."

From the moment he kissed her at the city gate, he had repeatedly told himself that he must survive.

Remembering how he lay at death's door these past two days, Yaoying felt as if a knife were twisting in her heart. She gently embraced him, listening to his steady and strong heartbeat.

She had thought he was truly leaving, that he would never speak to her again.

Although the physicians hadn't reached any definitive conclusion, news of Tanmoroqie's awakening spread quickly. Everyone was initially shocked and doubtful, but then their sorrow turned to joy. Outside Wang Temple, the common people continuously chanted Buddha's name, kowtowing in gratitude to the gods and Buddhas for protecting their King.Yuanjue went to prepare hot water and fresh clothes, while Li Zhongqian and Bi Suo led the physicians out of the chamber.

Only Yaoying and Tanmoroqie remained in the punishment hall.

"Are you truly alright now?"

Yaoying held Tanmoroqie tightly, her swollen eyes fixed unblinkingly on him.

Tanmoroqie’s heart trembled with the flutter of her lashes. "Truly."

He felt much better.

Yaoying buried her face in his chest, listening intently to his heartbeat.

Steady, calm, thumping rhythmically.

He lowered his head, holding her close, his fingers threading through her hair as he kissed her crown.

This prison cell was where he had grown up—a place where he once stood utterly alone. Now, with her by his side, it had become the starting point of his rebirth.

The hazy candlelight enveloped them gently as they nestled together in silence.

...

The monk soldiers withdrew, and the physicians once again checked his pulse before retreating to the outer chamber to engage in fervent discussions.

After a moment of deep thought, Master Tituo sought an audience, holding a half-scorched scripture scroll.

These scriptures were originally burned after General Saisang’er’s death, with no surviving copies. When the palace was completely destroyed in the explosion, workers repairing the underground passage accidentally discovered a hidden layer behind the shrine wall. Behind the mural, they uncovered hundreds of scripture scrolls that had escaped destruction, including this half-roll praising General Saisang’er’s deeds. Mengda Ti Po and others had examined it but found no useful records.

Tanmoroqie had already bathed and was having his wounds dressed.

Master Tituo opened the scroll: "Your Majesty, I once heard that before General Saisang’er passed, he recited a verse from the scriptures: 'With the cessation of existence comes cessation of suffering; in nirvana lies bliss.' At the time, the temple master believed General Saisang’er had lost the will to live after his family’s death, hence reciting this before taking his own life. Recently, under Princess Wenzhao’s orders, monks have been reviewing a large number of sealed archives. This same verse appears in palm-leaf scriptures recording cultivation methods."

He sighed deeply.

"Your Majesty, having survived the death calamity, you must have gained some insight."

Tanmoroqie recalled his epiphany in the dream and nodded: "Indeed, I realized in the dream that only through facing death can one be reborn—each ending is a new beginning."

Enduring repeated death calamities had finally granted him a thread of vitality.

Master Tituo stood stunned for a long moment, his expression caught between tears and laughter.

General Saisang’er likely broke through the limitations of his cultivation method before death, but having lost his family and accidentally slain innocents, he had no heart to comprehend this before ending his life. Subsequently, all records were burned, leaving no one in the world able to decipher the method.

They had driven General Saisang’er to his death, and nearly done the same to their King.

"The Buddha is merciful. What this scroll contains is not Buddhist sutras, but an internal cultivation method that can counteract the technique. Your Majesty may study it accordingly. Henceforth, misfortune will give way to blessing, and you shall never again suffer from cultivation backlash."

Master Tituo pressed his palms together in reverence before Tanmoroqie, left the scripture behind, and slowly walked out leaning on his staff.

...

By a stroke of fate, they had discovered the true internal cultivation method. Everyone was wild with joy.

Yaoying ordered the scrolls sent to the monks for transcription to prevent loss.

A faint smile touched Tanmoroqie’s lips: "Unnecessary. I’ve already memorized them all."

Yaoying insisted, "We should still make multiple copies."

Then she carefully studied his complexion—she had been discussing his injuries with Mengda Ti Po until moments before.

Tanmoroqie opened his arms and drew her into an embrace. "Have you seen the queen’s crown?"

Yaoying paused in surprise, then shook her head with a soft laugh: "No."

How could she have minded such things these past days, consumed as she was by fear and worry?"Take a good look." His voice came from above, carrying its usual coolness with an added hint of faint amusement. "If you don't like it, have the craftsmen modify it."

Yaoying smiled: "Can it be changed so freely?"

Tanmoroqie nodded: "As long as you like it. My bride is you."

Yaoying held him close, her ears filled with his pounding heartbeat and gentle speech. As his scattered kisses fell upon her hair, her heart softened like spring streams flowing gently.

Suddenly, a sharp, inexplicable pain pierced her chest, and a sweet, metallic taste surged up.

Startled, Yaoying coughed violently and vomited a mouthful of blood.

An ominous premonition flooded her entire being.

Tanmoroqie froze, feeling warm dampness spreading across his chest.

He looked down.

Yaoying's face was pale, her body trembling, her lips stained crimson with blood.

"Bright Moon Slave!"

Even he, who remained unshaken before collapsing mountains, heard his own voice nearly cracking.

Yaoying trembled uncontrollably as life gradually faded from her body.

Tanmoroqie's face drained of color as he held her tighter.

Footsteps sounded at the door as Li Zhongqian rushed in.

"What happened?"

He dashed to the meditation cushion, horrified, and pried Tanmoroqie's hands away. "Bright Moon Slave!"

Yaoying felt excruciating pain in her chest, her entire body aching. Struggling to open her eyes, her gaze swept across Tanmoroqie and Li Zhongqian's faces.

"Luojia... Elder Brother..."

She wanted to reassure them, to tell them not to be afraid—perhaps like before, she would recover after some rest...

Overwhelming exhaustion washed over her.

This time was far more painful and intense than previous episodes.

"...It's nothing... I'll be better in a few days..."

Her lips quivered as she slowly closed her eyes.

The hand tightly clutching Tanmoroqie's sleeve went limp and fell.

"Bright Moon Slave!"

Li Zhongqian shouted.

Tanmoroqie remained motionless. The night wind blew through the hall's bars, piercingly cold. Covered in blood, he resembled an asura.

The night deepened as snow fell silently.