"Achoo!" Song Qianji tilted his head and rubbed his nose.
The maids leading the way laughed in unison.
The youngest and most lively among them couldn't resist saying, "It seems Young Master Song is truly here for the first time, still unaccustomed to the scent of 'Red Dust Wine.' A few more cups, and you'll get used to it."
The moon hung high in the midnight sky, and the night was still long. The auction had ended, but the banquet had only just begun.
As Song Qianji reached the third floor, he encountered a group of burly servants carrying vats of strong liquor, pouring them over the railings into the lotus platform below. The cascading waterfall of wine filled the lotus platform, transforming it into a pool of crimson wine.
Male and female dancers, clad in sheer gauze and trailing colorful silk ribbons, soared through the air as if on swings. The hall was filled with guests drinking wildly, singing boisterously, and laughing in drunken revelry.
The pungent aroma of wine, mingled with the scents of various flowers and cosmetics, made Song Qianji feel slightly breathless.
"Forgive my ignorance, but I’ve never been one for drinking," he said.
Another maid chimed in, "Red Dust Wine is a specialty of the Golden Palace. Many who are obsessed with alcohol travel thousands of miles to the Western Sea just for a taste. Young Master Song, why not give it a try? I didn’t like it at home either, but now I drink it every day."
"At home?" Song Qianji frowned slightly.
A few casual remarks prompted him to observe the women more closely. He noticed their varied accents and habits, suggesting they were not raised by the Golden Palace from a young age. Their poised demeanor and confident speech made them seem unlike ordinary maids.
When Song Qianji asked about the cultivation methods they practiced and where they came from, his frustration grew with each answer.
—These young women all hailed from prestigious families and practiced orthodox cultivation methods. Though not as illustrious as the Huawel Sect, their clans and sects were still well-known.
Had Meng Heze forcibly abducted these young female disciples to serve as concubines? Or had those mid-to-small-sized forces, cowed by the Lord of the heretical path, been compelled to offer them as tribute?
So, Meng Heze, you rascal—when you were the senior disciple in Thousand Canals, you lured away Outer Sect disciples of the Huawel Sect. Now, as the great demon of the Western Sea, you’re snatching young ladies from other families?
As they spoke, over a dozen prisoners, bound in chains and barely recognizable as human, were escorted into the hall and forced to kneel by the lotus platform.
A man in an elegant black robe, wielding a boning knife with leisurely grace, slowly severed their limbs, relishing their agonized screams.
A layer of blood stained the flower-filled, wine-soaked banquet, yet the drunken crowd grew even more exhilarated by the gruesome spectacle, erupting in cheers.
Song Qianji watched coldly. "The one carrying out the execution—is that Jin Lu?"
The maid smiled. "Indeed, that is Lord Jin Lu, the Right Protector."
"Most of these assassins were already executed in the Hall of Punishment. Only a few were kept for the banquet’s entertainment."
"Let everyone see—this is the fate of those who dare attack our Golden Palace."
The host shouted, "Long live the Evil Buddha!"
The heretical path masses echoed the cry in unison. Even the maids guiding Song Qianji paused and solemnly declared, "Long live the Evil Buddha."
Amid the debauchery of wine and revelry, a chill crept up Song Qianji’s spine.
These young female cultivators, with their delicate beauty and youthful innocence, were genuinely warm and hospitable—yet also genuinely cruel and frivolous.
Looking around, he saw that everyone under the Evil Buddha’s command was the same. If Meng Heze gave the order, these very girls who now treated him with kindness and tenderness would likely rush to push him onto the executioner’s block.
Finally stepping into the top floor, a sudden breeze brushed his face, and the air instantly turned fresh and clear.
Thanks to the formation, the clamor seemed distant, leaving only the faint, lingering strains of music.As if completely severed from the chaos below, the air held no scent of blood or liquor, only faint traces of incense and sandalwood.
The atmosphere was quiet, even solemn, like an ancient temple hidden deep in the mountains.
The lead maid gently pushed open the door and whispered, "Young Master Song has arrived."
Song Qianji stepped onto the snow-white long-pile carpet, feeling as though he were treading on clouds.
While the lower floors blazed with golden splendor and revelry, this room was starkly minimalist. White carpets, white walls, and layers of white gauze curtains hanging in the air resembled the underground ice caves of Blood River Valley.
A delicate, boneless hand parted the draping curtains and pulled him inside.
"You are now the most valuable man in the entire Cultivation World. Let me take a good look at you." Jin Tao Furen circled Song Qianji once, lightly fanning herself with a peacock-feather fan. "Ah, truly handsome. The money was well spent."
The maids giggled incessantly.
Song Qianji took two steps back. "Where is the Evil Buddha?"
"You're quite clever to step onto the stage yourself. Otherwise, the Golden Blades would have bound and dragged you here, and you'd have suffered for it," Jin Tao Furen remarked.
Ignoring her, Song Qianji used his sword hilt to push aside the drifting layers of white gauze, heading straight inward.
With his notorious reputation, how could Meng Heze be unprepared?
If Golden Hairpin Madam was putting on an act, it would be convenient if he took the bait. If not, there were still ambushes waiting in the room.
Unexpectedly, he had been overly cooperative, stepping onto the stage himself to become the finale item of the night's auction.
The room was astonishingly large, and the gauze curtains made it feel like a labyrinth.
Song Qianji halted and called out loudly, "I'm not here to kill you. Do you still remember me? Meng Heze!"
The moment the name "Meng Heze" was uttered, all the lamps in the hall extinguished at once.
Pale moonlight streamed in through an unknown window, casting the shadows of the curtains on the white walls like tangled waterweed or wandering ghosts in the night.
"The Evil Buddha is named Meng Zhengxian. Who is Meng Heze?" Jin Tao Furen snapped. "The more one endures, the greater their ambition. What exactly are you plotting, enduring the humiliation of being auctioned off tonight?"
With a flick of her sleeve, ten strands of gauze shot out like iron chains, binding toward Song Qianji from all directions.
Just as Song Qianji was about to draw his sword, a voice echoed from the depths of the room: "Let him come in."
The voice was utterly calm, like that of a detached deity speaking without worldly attachment.
Jin Tao Furen withdrew her attack at once and said no more.
The layers of curtains parted, revealing a path. Song Qianji walked forward alone for over ten zhang before catching sight of a window.
The window was tall enough for three men, fully open, facing the full moon in the western sky.
A figure clad in red robes sat in meditation under the moonlight, eyes lowered, slowly counting prayer beads.
Snow-white hair cascaded over his knees, stirred by the rushing night wind like layers of snowy waves.
Bathed in moonlight, he wore a loosely draped dark red robe that revealed a jade-like chest.
He should have resembled a pristine jade Buddha statue, untouched by dust. Yet, from the back of his hand to his chest, intricate, eerie dark red tattoo patterns covered his skin, like some living, terrifying entity growing within him.
An aura of sinister evil washed over the observer.
This was the Lord of the heretical path, Meng Zhengxian. Even though Song Qianji had seen him in his past life and was mentally prepared, he still found it difficult to accept.
"You..." Song Qianji asked, "do you remember me?"
"How could I dare to forget?" Meng Zhengxian stopped counting his prayer beads and suddenly lifted his gaze. "This lord thanks you. It has been a long time since we parted at Huawel Sect."
Crimson eyes, snow-white hair.
Song Qianji was taken aback. Repaying kindness for malice? Could the Evil Buddha be this sweet?Meng Zhengxian retracted the prayer beads around his wrist, stood up, and straightened his sleeves. "If you hadn't pushed me back then, I'd still be digging in Huawel Sect's Spirit Stone Mine, desperately waiting for an opportunity. Even if I'd entered the Inner Sect, I'd only be the lowest-ranking ordinary disciple—when would I ever rise above that? Without you, there would be no me as I am today. So not only do I not resent you, I must thank you. You gave me a second chance at life!"
"You... thank me?" Song Qianji found it absurd.
"Because of you, the Lord of the heretical path now rules the Western Sea! Whatever your reason for coming, share a drink with me." Meng Heze raised his hand, and a wine cup flew into his grasp.
He handed one to Song Qianji.
"That's not right." Song Qianji pondered, still sensing a flaw in the logic. "You shouldn't thank me, because you're not living well now, not happy."
Meng Zhengxian seemed to hear the greatest joke and actually curled his lips. "What do you think this place is?"
"The peak of the Golden Palace, the Red Dust Sanctuary."
"Listen to the sounds outside—what do you hear?"
"Noise."
"Laughter." The Evil Buddha raised his wine cup and drank alone. "This is the place with the most laughter in the world."
Song Qianji listened carefully.
Women's bell-like laughter, men's hearty guffaws, gamblers' mad cackles—great laughs, delicate laughs, seductive laughs, awkward laughs. He was nearly drowned in the sound of laughter.
Young cultivators newly arrived, dazzled by the splendor, might think ascending after enlightenment could be no better than this.
"Here, shed that hypocritical human skin, and you can enjoy ultimate bliss." The Evil Buddha stepped closer, his voice almost hypnotic. "You can stay by my side."
Song Qianji suddenly understood.
It was with this illusion of tenderness amid brutality that the Evil Buddha lured those young women to throw themselves into the fire like moths.
He shook his head. "If this is truly the place with the most laughter in the world, why don't you laugh?"
Why are you so cold and gloomy, killing at the slightest provocation?
Why are you still in such pain?
"You say I don't laugh?" the Evil Buddha chuckled lightly.
Song Qianji continued, "Back in Huawel Sect, you didn't laugh like this. I've seen it. Meng Heze, I came to save you."
The Evil Buddha stared at him. "I had nothing, and you pushed me into hell. Now I rule the Western Sea, and you say you came to save me. Song Qianji, do you really think I'm unwilling to kill you?"
Song Qianji felt an invisible pressure. The temperature around them plummeted.
The Evil Buddha had killing intent.
"Believe in me." Song Qianji knew how unconvincing this sounded. "As long as you can believe me, I'll do anything."
"Is that so?" The Evil Buddha's killing intent faded slightly as he lowered his gaze. "Drink this cup of wine."
He had sent people to investigate. In some ways, this Rogue Cultivator Song Qianji was more austere and dull than the righteous sects.
He didn't drink, gamble, or indulge in beauties—rejecting all worldly pleasures.
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