"What about General Su?"
No one had ever asked Su Dan Gu this question. This identity could not be exposed to the world. He always came and went alone, appearing at the opportune moment before vanishing without a trace, leaving no shadow behind.
Those unaware of the truth saw him as a Vajra Yaksa, while those in the know believed him to be indestructible—a weapon without desires or attachments.
Weapons do not require concern.
Su Dan Gu looked at Yaoying’s concerned expression and said indifferently, "My whereabouts have nothing to do with the Princess."
His tone was flat, without any deliberate sarcasm.
Yet to Yuanjue, who stood nearby, the words felt like a basin of snow mixed with shards of ice poured over his head—chilling. Before Yaoying could even react, Yuanjue’s scalp tightened. He lowered his head awkwardly, rubbing his hands in discomfort.
A soft, gentle laugh sounded beside his ear. "Of course it has to do with me."
Yuanjue looked up in surprise.
Yaoying sat by the campfire, her gaze fixed directly on Su Dan Gu’s cold, jade-green eyes. "General Su was ordered to escort me," she said softly. "Back in Gaochang, the General was already unwell, and now he is severely injured. By reason or by duty, I cannot abandon him here alone."
Su Dan Gu’s thick brows furrowed slightly.
Before he could respond, Yaoying turned to Yuanjue, her dark eyes locking onto him as she raised her voice slightly. "After you escort me down the mountain, are you not coming back? Are you planning to leave General Su here alone?"
Yuanjue flinched, inexplicably feeling guilty. "I have urgent matters to attend to down the mountain," he muttered.
He had to carry out the Regent’s orders.
Yaoying spread her hands. "So that means General Su will have no one by his side?"
Yuanjue’s eyes widened, his expression somewhat bewildered. "It has always been this way…"
There were Royal Court guards stationed at the foot of the mountain, and garrisons loyal to the Buddha Prince in nearby cities—plenty of manpower could be summoned at any time. But the Regent’s identity was unique; only a handful of personal guards could approach him and receive direct orders. Moreover, with Bi Suo now boldly descending the mountain posing as the Regent, to avoid alerting anyone, the real Regent on the mountain had to disappear completely.
Su Dan Gu could not appear in public at this time.
Situations like this had occurred before—when tribes subservient to the Royal Court rebelled, when ambitious noble families attempted to overthrow the dynasty, or when conflicts arose among princes, nobles, and tribal leaders. The Regent would descend as if from the heavens, resolve the crisis, and then quietly depart alone.
It had always been this way over the years. Yuanjue had grown accustomed to the Regent appearing and vanishing without a trace. As long as the Regent was not suffering from cultivation backlash, he needed no assistance. After all, the more people who knew about his cultivation method, the greater the risk of exposure.
Yuanjue stole a glance at Su Dan Gu.
Yaoying also turned to look at the silent Su Dan Gu. "General Ashina has gone down the mountain, and Yuanjue is leaving as well. The General’s injuries have not yet healed. If he suffers another cultivation backlash and has no one to protect him, what will happen then?"
"I can stay," she declared, her tone gentle yet resolute.
Yuanjue thought for a moment and spoke up on Su Dan Gu’s behalf. "Princess, you have no martial skills. Staying behind won’t be of much help to the Regent."
Yaoying raised an eyebrow. "The reason General Ashina brought me up the mountain in the first place was precisely because I lack martial skills. Didn’t I just prove helpful earlier?"
A hint of grievance tinged her voice.
Yuanjue was left speechless. His lips moved a few times as he glanced at Su Dan Gu, as if seeking help.
Su Dan Gu signaled with his eyes for Yuanjue to say no more, a deep weariness etched between his brows.Yuanjue understood the implicit message and fell silent. After a while, he retrieved the fragrantly roasted naan bread and handed it to Yaoying.
"Princess, have some provisions."
Thinking he had agreed, Yaoying accepted the naan: "Have you and the General eaten?"
Yuanjue nodded.
Still feeling somewhat dizzy, Yaoying expressed her thanks and began eating the naan.
Su Dan Gu sat meditating with closed eyes, Yuanjue watched the campfire, and none of the three spoke further.
The sky gradually darkened, with brilliant sunset hues painting the undulating mountain ranges. Silvery peaks reflected dazzling, magnificent rays in sublime grandeur.
Occasional short eagle cries echoed between the cloud layers.
As the last pale golden afterglow vanished from the cliff faces, Yuanjue rose and bowed to Yaoying: "Princess, night approaches. Please accompany me down the mountain."
Yaoying frowned slightly, glancing toward Su Dan Gu.
He remained motionless with closed eyes, his slightly curled long lashes frozen in place as if in deep meditation, resembling a stone-carved seated statue.
Yaoying sighed and followed Yuanjue away.
Their long boots crunched softly through the accumulated snow, two figures descending the mountain until they disappeared into the deepening dusk.
The sound of footsteps gradually faded, leaving only the crackling campfire and the mournful wind whistling through heaven and earth.
As the sun sank behind the mountains, the wind suddenly turned piercing, whipping swirling snowflakes into furious descent.
Mountains and rivers fell silent under the vast firmament, leaving Su Dan Gu utterly alone.
...
The firelight dimmed progressively as night thickened.
Suddenly, the meditating Su Dan Gu's thick eyebrows contracted sharply. Veins bulged slightly on his temples and the backs of his hands, his entire body tensing.
Moments later, his shoulders began trembling faintly. The energy around him abruptly turned chaotic as he leaned forward and collapsed sideways onto the snow, emitting a muffled groan while a trace of crimson blood seeped from his lips.
The icy wind swept past, fluttering his robes like piercing knives, the cold penetrating straight to his bones.
Bracing one hand against the snow, Su Dan Gu panted rapidly. Opening his eyes, he wiped the blood from his mouth with his right hand, fingers fumbling to remove the mask from his face.
The flickering campfire cast its dim light upon features that gradually emerged from beneath the ferocious scars—a countenance painted with exquisite elegance.
His eyebrows gathered the grace of mountains and rivers, his eyes contained the brilliance of starry galaxies, his features profoundly sculpted with a gaze clear as water.
The frost and snow covering the ground paled against the transcendent, chilly radiance glowing between his brows.
Face like the pure moon, eyes like lotus blossoms.
In this moment, he was not the feared Su Dan Gu, but the ruler of the Royal Court, the Buddha Prince Tanmoroqie revered and beloved by all.
Bi Suo and Yuanjue feared the loss of humanity in his Su Dan Gu identity, believing he shared their hatred and disgust for this role—that he wished to erase Su Dan Gu's existence. Their attitudes toward his different identities differed completely as they carefully maintained the illusion.
In truth, he had never wavered.
His mind remained steadfast, never forgetting his responsibilities. Su Dan Gu was Tanmoroqie.
Though the Su Dan Gu identity would never see daylight, it remained part of him.
A sharp pain shot through his wound as Tanmoroqie's brows tightened severely.
The elder's blade had been coated with poison. Though Bi Suo had fed him antidote pills, the toxin had still spread. His muscles and bones felt weak, and having barely suppressed the chaotically surging True Qi within him, his Internal Force now rampaged uncontrollably again.
Tanmoroqie gasped several breaths, laboriously propping himself up against a cold, jagged rock, his expression serene.
Memories of bygone years flashed before him, one by one.
...Luojia grew up surrounded by medicinal brews, rigorously practicing his cultivation method. He used pills to stimulate his physical potential while relying on Brahmin medicines to suppress the adverse effects of his cultivation. Gradually, his body could no longer endure. From the age of eighteen, the number of pills he needed to take increased, and the intervals between episodes grew shorter. Each time he experienced power dissipation, it felt like suffering a severe illness—his legs swollen and immobile, making even standing up difficult.
Tanmoroqie knew this was a sign of his life force depleting, like oil running dry in a lamp. He might not live much longer.
Two years prior, during one episode, he nearly died.
When Mengda Ti Po arrived at the Royal Court, he unexpectedly discovered that Water Mang Grass could alleviate his suffering. Bi Suo and the others then pinned their hopes on this herb to cure him completely.
Tanmoroqie remained composed. Water Mang Grass could only prolong his life by a few years, and this rare herb was scarcely found north or south of the Congling Mountains. He might not survive long enough for the merchant caravans to bring it back.
So, when the Northern Rong army besieged the city, he took more secret pills, led the campaign personally, commanded five armies to attack the Northern Rong cavalry, and once again defeated Wahan Khan—who had swept across the northern deserts with formidable momentum—forcing Northern Rong to sign a treaty with the Royal Court.
After that great battle, Tanmoroqie realized his time was short. He arranged his affairs, left a decree for succession, and prepared to return to Wang Temple to await his final day quietly.
Upon his death, the news would not be announced.
As long as the nobles in the city honored the treaty, the Royal Court could still intimidate Northern Rong with his lingering prestige for a few years.
Tanmoroqie understood Wahan Khan’s nature well, knowing he would not accept defeat and would test his strength again. On the day he left Sand City, he once again led his troops to deter Haidu Aling, who had deliberately provoked him.
Unintentionally, he rescued Princess Wenzhao, who had reached a dead end.
The medicinal herbs brought by Princess Wenzhao allowed him, in his dying moments, to endure the torment of cultivation backlash once more.
Cause and effect follow one another; karma arises and ceases.
Tanmoroqie offered the princess shelter, watching her settle into the Buddhist temple. Each day, she recited scriptures with a mix of naivety and pretense while tirelessly working to return to the Central Plains. Even in her displacement, she did not forget to aid her fellow exiles, seeking a place for them to belong.
They seldom interacted and rarely spoke.
The temple monks held grievances against him, but he had no intention of arguing. He had long made his choice and was willing to bear all consequences, indifferent to others’ opinions—fame and glory were but fleeting clouds.
Yet the princess persistently defended him, articulating his thoughts and intentions. Her understanding, respect, and admiration for him came from the heart, sincere and genuine.
After overhearing the princess’s words through a flower wall, Tanmoroqie thought to himself: Perhaps Princess Wenzhao could become his fellow disciple.
He recalled Mengda Ti Po’s earlier remark that the princess possessed remarkable wisdom.
Tanmoroqie selected suitable scriptures for the princess, had the temple abbot guide her in morning lessons, and required her to attend sermons alongside the young sramanas.
The princess studied diligently, reciting scriptures fluently and smoothly.
For much of the summer, in the faint light of dawn, Tanmoroqie sat in the dim hall of the Buddha, translating Brahmi scriptures with a brush. Outside, along the corridor, he listened as Yaoying stood before the sramanas, reciting her lessons character by character. Her voice was clear and lively, like pearls falling onto a jade plate. In his heart, he understood: The princess had wisdom, yet her mind was too lucid—she would never become a sramana.
He could hear it in her voice.
At that moment, a faint trace of disappointment brushed through Tanmoroqie’s heart.Before long, the clear and gentle laughter of a maiden drifted through the window, like morning dew dripping onto the Bodhi tree—pure and lucid, capable of washing away all defilements and bringing cool relief to all beings.
Tanmoroqie’s brush paused briefly, the faint melancholy in his heart vanishing in an instant.
All sentient beings possess the Buddha-nature—this is my truth.
……
Amid the snow-capped peaks, the wind howled furiously.
The blazing campfire was extinguished by the blizzard.
Tanmoroqie snapped back to reality and attempted to circulate his inner energy.
A faint glimmer of light sank into the horizon, and boundless darkness pressed down upon him. His vision turned blind, and his spirit sank endlessly into the icy abyss, drifting aimlessly.
All around him was cold and desolate, with eerie winds gusting and ghostly shadows flickering amidst billowing black smoke.
He continued to fall, eyes shut tight, yet he could see a terrifying and sinister landscape unfolding before him.
Massive iron cities, layered upon layers, stretched for thousands of miles, blotting out the sky and sun. Countless souls were trapped within, suffering excruciating torment.
Iron snakes and bronze dogs spewed flames, while people, driven by demon guards, screamed and wailed amidst the inferno.
Yakshas, with fangs sharp as swords, tore at human flesh, while fierce iron eagles circled overhead, suddenly swooping down to peck out people’s eyes.
Bones shattered, flesh rotted, and filthy blood fell like rain. With nowhere to hide, the cries and lamentations of the people merged into a roaring wave that shook heaven and earth.
The Avīci Hell—where one dies and is reborn ten thousand times.
Tanmoroqie had witnessed such scenes with his own eyes.
Beacon fires raged across the land, bones lay exposed in the desert, the old and weak were slaughtered by blades, the defeated were enslaved, and victorious cities were swiftly massacred by stronger tribes. Weapons clashed, and the people suffered immeasurably.
The common folk are often besieged by countless sufferings.
Before Tanmoroqie was born, the Tanmo clan was imprisoned within the royal palace. At that time, rumors had already spread throughout the Royal Court that he was the savior destined to rescue the people. The powerful aristocratic families, gripped by fear, seized him immediately after his birth and confined him to a Buddhist temple.
Growing up far removed from court officials and commoners, under layers of surveillance, he still displayed extraordinary intelligence and wisdom. His master, who taught him the Buddhist Dharma, was overjoyed and repeatedly told those around him, "The Buddha Prince is truly exceptional. He will pacify the troubled times and bring peace and stability to the people of the Royal Court."
The Buddhist Dharma can enlighten the mind, but it cannot stop vicious individuals from slaughtering innocent people, nor can it halt the majestic and savage cavalry of the Northern Rong.
To pacify the troubled times and allow the people of the Royal Court to live in peace and prosperity, he had no choice but to raise the slaughtering blade and commit acts of killing.
Only through the merciless methods of an Asura could peace be safeguarded.
He had broken the precept against killing and would forever fall into the Avīci Hell, enduring torment just like the wailing ghosts in the flames and mountains of blades.
Tanmoroqie pressed his palms together, and the illusions in his mind gradually faded, the ferocity between his brows dissipating like smoke.
If I do not enter hell, then who will?
This was the path he had chosen.
Tanmoroqie opened his eyes, their jade-green hue shimmering as if filled with clear starlight. His body trembled violently, and he vomited a large mouthful of foul blood.
The night was deep, and the cold wind roared furiously.
He collapsed beside the extinguished campfire, gazing at the blood-stained snow before slowly closing his eyes.
Amid the vast howling of the wind came a sudden, sharp whinny.
A moment later, another high-pitched neigh echoed.
Had the assassins found him?
Tanmoroqie jolted awake, struggling to rise. He put on his mask, stood up, and looked in the direction of the sound.
In the dim snowlight, a sturdy horse climbed along the rugged and steep mountain path. On its back crouched a figure wrapped in a thick cloak, their form delicate and graceful—unlike that of an assassin.Instantly, the wind ceased, and the night breeze scattered the low-hanging layers of clouds. A few pale moonbeams poured down, enveloping that figure.
The sturdy horse refused to advance further. The rider on its back dismounted, stumbling forward unsteadily.
Tanmoroqie lowered his gaze, watching the figure approach.
The person fell several times but continued climbing without a word. After what felt like the duration of a cup of tea, the crunching sound of long boots on snow grew from distant to near. Finally, the young girl scrambled up the snowdrift, happily brushing off the muddy snow from her clothes. She lifted her face and strode briskly toward Tanmoroqie.
Under the dim moonlight and the reflected glow of the snow, a youthful, delicate face was illuminated.
"General Su!"
Spotting Tanmoroqie, she waved at him with a smile, her sleeves fluttering and her eyes sparkling like a goddess.
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