Chapter 91: The Swan Song of a Hero

The witch escaped from Gao Xiang's body, soaring straight into the sky.

Guan Wen gave chase immediately, the two of them rocketing forward one after another like a shooting star pursuing the moon.

In an instant, the witch's form expanded to fill the space between heaven and earth, only to shrink the next moment to the size of a mustard seed. She morphed now into flowers, birds, fish, and insects, and then transformed into azure peaks and ancient trees. Her transformations were intricate and endlessly varied, yet she could never shake off Guan Wen's relentless pursuit. At that moment, only a single character, written in characters of blood, remained in Guan Wen's mind: *Kill*.

Suddenly, the witch broke through the valley floor constructed by the Venerable Chiyan using the Six-Syllable Great Mantra, plunging for a second time into the dark cave beneath the cliff.

Guan Wen pursued her without a moment's hesitation, descending straight to the circular pond at the deepest part of the dark cave. Now he finally understood that human [censored] had destroyed the witch's own power, yet could not shatter her utterly, which was why she had seized the opportunity to burst out of the dark cave by utilizing Gao Xiang's body and Tang Jue's soul.

The witch stood upon the crystal platform, her skirt trailing low, devoid of any arrogance or the menacing aura of one who slaughtered and drank blood.

"Spare my life, I beg you. I truly dare not kill anyone ever again. If you are willing, I am content to serve as your maid and perform any menial task for you. I am filled with guilt toward those who have already died; give me a chance, and I will chant sutras and turn prayer wheels every day to deliver their wandering souls safely into reincarnation. I beg you, I know I was wrong, I truly know I was wrong..." Her long hair trailed into the water, and her reflection upon the surface appeared utterly desolate and helpless, like the last withered lotus in the dead of winter.

Guan Wen stopped, standing thirty paces away, watching her from afar.

"I know that many Buddhist scriptures say even demons can attain salvation, that one can lay down the butcher's knife and instantly become a Buddha. Look, I don't even have a knife in my hand; I only killed to protect myself. You surely understand that sometimes, in order to survive, we must do things against our conscience. I, too, have longed to be like ordinary women in this world—to marry a good man, bear many chubby babies, serve my husband and raise my children at home, and live out the rest of my life in peace and safety. I swear, I really did think that way, but no one ever gave me the chance. This time, if you are willing to show mercy and give me a chance, I will definitely do well, and I certainly will not let you down..."

She knitted her brows, bit her lower lip slightly, and pleaded in a soft voice.

If everything she said was true, and if she could keep every oath she swore, then she was no longer a witch, but a virtuous woman in the vast and boundless world.

In this world, gentle and virtuous women were forever in short supply. Good women were like sweet springs in a desert—scarce and precious—and once they appeared, they could transform a desolate and lifeless wasteland into a vibrant oasis.

Guan Wen's heart suddenly softened, like ice melting in warm water. Yet, another voice rang out clear and sober in the depths of his mind: *Exterminate demons utterly, exterminate demons utterly, exterminate demons utterly...*

Driven by this urging, he raised his broadsword high and stepped onto the path one stride at a time.

"I beg you, I beg you, I know I was wrong, I truly know I was wrong, give me a chance... I know your heart is infinitely kind; can you really not grant me even this tiny chance? Look, I am so humble, I am kneeling down to beg you—" The witch actually dropped to her knees before Guan Wen, prostrating herself on the ground and not daring to get up.

Her clothes had been torn during the earlier chase, and the greater part of her body was now exposed. It was a body of such exquisite beauty that even merely gazing upon its reflection in the water was enough to dazzle and mesmerize any man in the world.

Guan Wen halted. The killing intent in his chest had already dissipated, and he truly felt inclined to give the witch a chance at redemption. He was a man; had they been clashing with real blades on a battlefield between two armies, he might not have stayed his hand. But now, asked to personally execute a weeping woman, he simply could not bear it.

"Very well, let everything end here." He propped his broadsword upon the ground. "As long as you genuinely repent and mend your ways, I will not pursue you to the death."

He released his grip, and the broadsword tumbled into the water, the blade grazing right across the witch's reflection.

In a split second, the kneeling witch, who had just begun to raise her head, suddenly suffered a severed neck. Her head rolled to the ground, dragging her disheveled long hair until it came to a stop at Guan Wen's feet.

"Thank you." Those were her final parting words.

The winter in Lhasa's Barkhor Street was bone-chillingly cold, with very few people stirring outside.

Guan Wen had just finished painting a thangka, secured it with clips, and hung it from a rope to dry. The winter temperature was far too low; for a painting to dry completely and naturally, it required at least a week.

This thangka shop had been given to him by Lebai Wangjie, who had since closed his own art center and officially taken refuge in the Tashilhunpo Monastery, spending his days chanting sutras and practicing asceticism.

Lebai Wangjie had once remarked that money and [censored] insatiably fueled human greed, and that was not the life he desired. Through devout spiritual practice, one's mind naturally attained tranquility and boundless joy. Nowadays, an increasing number of people in Tibet were like him; even if they had not shaved their heads to take monastic vows, they still sincerely revered the Buddha, chanting sutras and turning prayer wheels every day to maintain a humble and peaceful frame of mind.

"Hey, how long has Baoling been gone?" Gu Qingcheng, sitting in a rocking chair by the window, looked up and closed the book in her hands.

"As of today, exactly one year and one month," Guan Wen replied.

Regarding the relationship between Baoling and Baolizhu, simply put, it was as follows:

Baolizhu's ancestor, Baolu, belonged to the Plain Yellow Banner of the Great Qing Dynasty under the House of Baoji. He had once followed Fu Kang'an on the Western Expedition in a military administrative capacity, and upon reaching the Broken Head Cliff of Mount Nileshi, he found the white copper key left behind by Princess Zhaoge, which he passed down to his descendants. Baolizhu possessed "hidden wisdom for subduing demons" imprinted within her mind, which was why she had come to the Tashilhunpo Monastery and crossed paths with the painter Bing Qiuhan. She had implored Bing Qiuhan to paint the "hidden wisdom" deep within her thoughts, causing the two of them to fall deeply in love and conceive a child out of wedlock. The life growing within Baolizhu's womb was none of other than Baoling, who was the reincarnated soul of Princess Zhaoge. Because of Baoling's existence, Baolizhu sensed the murderous intent of the subterranean witch beneath Mount Nileshi, prompting her to leave without a word and retreat to Hong Kong.

Baolizhu's beauty was acknowledged by all, and the half-face of the beauty painted by Caidan Dajie was precisely her likeness.

Bing Qiuhan abandoned his ascetic practice and pursued her to Hong Kong. To avoid implicating him, Baolizhu deliberately closed her doors and refused to see him. After giving birth to Baoling, Baolizhu died of an incurable illness. Heartbroken and disillusioned, Bing Qiuhan placed Baoling in an orphanage. Afterward, he did not return to [censored], but instead wandered everywhere, living out the remainder of his days in Jinan, Shandong.

Following the battle at Mount Nileshi, Baoling bid farewell to Guan Wen and Gu Qingcheng and returned to Hong Kong, swearing to guard Baolizhu's grave for ten years to repay her maternal grace.

"I just read chapter eighty-seven of this book—" Gu Qingcheng gently patted the volume. "The chapter title is *Yang Jian Cleverly Executes Four Fiends, White Ape Captured via the Tai Chi Diagram*. It suddenly occurred to me that when you drew the mandala inside the dark cave at Mount Nileshi to subdue demons, it bore a marvelous resemblance to Yang Jian using the Tai Chi Diagram to construct a wondrous illusion world for capturing and slaying the monkey fiend of Mount Meishan. Could it be that the works of Ming and Qing dynasty novelists are inextricably linked to true history?"

She was reading *Investiture of the Gods*, authored by Xu Zhonglin of the Ming Dynasty. This was a classic Chinese work of mythological fiction, composed around the Longqing and Wanli eras. Its earliest origins could be traced back to the Southern Song Dynasty's vernacular text *King Wu Subjugating Zhou*, and it likely also drew reference from *Romance of Shang and Zhou* and *Eastern Journey of the Eight Immortals of Kunlun*. Set against the historical backdrop of Jiang Ziya assisting King Wu of Zhou in his campaign against King Zhou of Shang, the narrative depicted the various immortals of the elucidation and interception schools matching wits, breaking formations, slaying generals, and ultimately being conferred as deities.

Guan Wen smiled without answering, for he held a deeper understanding of the book. Whenever he received repeated teachings from Master Tree, Caidan Dajie, and Master Sangche, he was often reminded of it. His genuine experiences across various cycles of reincarnation bore a striking resemblance to many plots within the text.

In fact, it was not just this book; after crossing through his tribulations, he had meticulously read China's Four Great Classical Novels countless times, deeply believing that *Romance of the Three Kingdoms*, *Journey to the West*, *Water Margin*, and *Dream of the Red Chamber* contained hundreds of clues relating to the subduing of demons. Savoring them carefully, their rhymes of thought were infinite—profound, winding, and unfathomable. No wonder modern and contemporary Chinese literati unanimously revered the Four Great Classical Novels, treating them as treasures to keep upon their desks.

He had already discussed these complex thoughts with Gu Qingcheng countless times, and the two of them had shared their respective views, each gaining their own insights.

Gu Qingcheng's background had once filled Guan Wen with profound emotion; she was the child born to Bing Qiuhan and his first wife. Her biological mother had passed away from illness when she was one year old, which was why Bing Qiuhan had left that place of sorrow and traveled far to [censored] to hone his painting skills. Gu Qingcheng originally bore the surname Bing, which was why she adopted the alias "Ice God" when moving among the circle of wise figures from the five nations and twelve monasteries.

Presently, Gu Qingcheng was no longer a lone bounty hunter roaming the pugilistic world, but rather the proprietorship-holding mistress of this small thangka shop.

"Boss, do you have *The Thangka of Subduing Demons in [censored]* among the thangkas you sell?" Three young people passed by the shop, and one of them stopped to ask.

Guan Wen shook his head. "No."

The young man frowned. "I asked if you had any replicas of that thangka! If such an antique treasure appeared in a tiny shop like yours, that truly would be a miracle!"

Guan Wen shook his head again. "I'm sorry, we do not."

The young man shrugged at the two young women accompanying him. "What a letdown. Heavy snow has blocked the mountain roads and trapped us here. I originally wanted to buy a thangka to tell you the mythological story of Songtsen Gampo leading Princess Wencheng and Princess Bhrikuti in subduing demons—this dump of a shop has nothing at all. I really wonder if this boss has even the slightest bit of cultural refinement; he can't even copy *The Thangka of Subduing Demons in [censored]*?"

One of the girls replied with a smile, "Forget it, forget it. What's so interesting about mythological stories anyway? Let's go back online and check if the new version of *Investiture of the Gods* has started airing yet. I heard the leading man and woman are both actors from Hong Kong and Taiwan—handsome guys and gorgeous girls, a real feast for the eyes..."

The three young people laughed and bantered as they walked away. Guan Wen and Gu Qingcheng exchanged a wry smile, at a loss for words.

The battles to subdue and eliminate demons were not mere stories, but grueling and arduous wars that had truly taken place, with countless wise masters of Tibetan Buddhism sacrificing their lives for the cause. Yet, in the real world, who ever paid attention to such things? Everyone was simply living their own lives—idolizing celebrities, chasing romantic flings... And thus, people like Guan Wen and Gu Qingcheng were destined to remain unsung heroes forever.

"Is this the best of times? Is this the most perfect reincarnation in our lives?" Gu Qingcheng switched to another book—Charles Dickens's *A Tale of Two Cities*.

"I suppose it is," Guan Wen replied.

Gu Qingcheng shook her head and said thoughtfully, "And yet, back in the era of one king and two princesses, Songtsen Gampo and the two princesses, Wencheng and Bhrikuti, were able to live in harmony and create an eternal romantic legend. Why can't we do the same? Baoling left, preferring to guard a tiny grave alone in a distant city, all to fulfill us. We are happy, but she is surely unhappy."

Guan Wen was silent, for that was also a worry that frequently troubled him.

"I firmly believe that in some future cycle of reincarnation, we will surely return to the era of one king and two princesses, become the best of friends, and forge a new generation of romantic legend. Don't you agree?" Gu Qingcheng pressed on.

Outside the door, goose-feather snowflakes began to drift down once more.

Guan Wen smiled and nodded, wrapping an arm around Gu Qingcheng's shoulder as they watched the silver-dust snow.

He looked forward to the day when, after the heavy snow cleared, Baoling would return. That would surely be a beautiful season when spring flowers bloomed in warmth.