Chapter 59: Seeking the Opportunity for Enlightenment

I’m not sure if I should do this... I really don’t know if I should... That was Gu Qingcheng’s voice.

Guan Wen’s body suddenly felt light. He fell out of his hallucination and realized with a jolt that Gu Qingcheng was already close to the oil drum, her hand trembling as she reached out, intending to sacrifice her own arm as fuel—just as Caidan Dajie and Master Sangche had done—to keep the flames burning.

No! Qingcheng, what are you doing? Guan Wen rushed forward, seized her arm, and pulled her forcefully away.

Gu Qingcheng’s face was flushed from the heat of the flames, her eyes clouded, lost, as if her spirit had flown away.

Don’t do anything foolish! Guan Wen shouted into her ear.

Her shoulders quivered; she suddenly raised her head, pressing her palms to her temples, and asked with a trembling voice, “What just happened to me? What did I do? What did I just do?”

At this moment, she was no longer the formidable bounty hunter who commanded respect in the underworld, but a lost lamb, in need of a shepherd’s embrace and protection.

“Qingcheng—” Guan Wen softly called her name, opened his arms, and held her close.

“I realized I couldn’t let the flames die out. That’s the last spark and hope of Tibet,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest. “My mind went blank, and I just walked over, ready to throw myself into the sea of fire. Guan Wen, what did you see in those flames? Have you already understood the final teachings of the two masters?” Gu Qingcheng pressed herself tightly against Guan Wen, her arms naturally encircling his waist, all shyness forgotten, as if they were already lovers bound heart to heart.

“I saw—” Images spun through Guan Wen’s mind like a revolving lantern, but he couldn’t untangle them just yet.

The visions he had seen were naturally of the King of Tibet, Songtsen Gampo, Princess Wencheng of the Tang dynasty, and Princess Bhrikuti of Nepal. As they analyzed the reasons for their defeat, Princess Wencheng repeatedly mentioned their mistakes—in other words, that the sealing of the demon was itself a mistake, a desperate strike without fully understanding the enemy. In the end, the exorcism became a sealing, failing to achieve the intended goal and resulting in both humans and demons surviving together in Tibet—a tragic outcome.

“I saw what the demoness looked like, but what I saw wasn’t truly her. She must have other forms. To defeat her, we must uncover what’s hidden behind the darkness... Just like that black hole at the Severed Head Cliff we visited—it was only an entrance; the real, immense danger lurked below the surface.” Guan Wen’s temples throbbed faintly, a sure sign his mind had been overtaxed.

He couldn’t help but raise his hands, pressing his palms against his temples, rubbing hard for a dozen seconds until the pain eased a bit. Then he continued, “There’s still so much we have to do, and perhaps, even if we spend our whole lives, we’ll never reach the light at the end.”

Unconsciously, he too was enveloped by the sorrow that plagued the king and two princesses; his tone grew heavy, and he forced a bitter smile.

“I think I also glimpsed a world I’ve never seen before. For a moment, my eyes filled with a holy radiance, as if someone was calling me onward, to give myself entirely, to become part of that light. But what is that light, really? I only half understand, until you woke me up,” Gu Qingcheng said.

The burning oil drum was like an enchanted box, trapping them in confusion from which they could not extricate themselves. Especially for Guan Wen, everything he experienced felt blurred, as if seen through a paper screen or frosted glass; he longed to slash through it, to shatter the barrier, and see the truth revealed in an instant.

Master Sangche and Caidan Dajie staggered to their feet. Though both were on the brink of death from severe burns, they looked at each other and broke into hearty laughter.

“Let’s go,” said Master Sangche.

“Let’s go!” Caidan Dajie replied.

“Masters, I still have so many questions. What exactly did the king and the two princesses do? What did they miss? How did their story end...?” Guan Wen called, hoping to keep them a moment longer.

Master Sangche hooked the tip of his toe under the sheepskin book, sent it flying with a kick, and let it fall into the oil drum, where it turned to ash.

“The past is just dust. Whatever I could say or do, I’ve already said and done. Now, I’ve forgotten everything—who you are, who I am, who he is... all forgotten. Come, let’s go. Let’s go to a place where no one lives and become ourselves again...” Master Sangche laughed joyfully.

“That’s right, become ourselves again. Live like a mani stone, a prayer flag, a yak’s tail—born naturally, dying naturally. This feeling of having no burdens on the soul is wonderful, truly wonderful...” Caidan Dajie laughed heartily.

The two of them left the room one after the other, suddenly bursting into song.

Their song was neither in Tibetan nor Chinese, not even in any language known to any nation. It was simply the free expression of their hearts, voiced with all their might.

Suddenly, all the birds in the rear courtyard of Tashilhunpo Monastery began to sing in chorus, their chirping rising in a harmonious wave. Moments later, the birds left the treetops and eaves, gathering around Master Sangche and Caidan Dajie, escorting them as they drifted out the small gate and away.

Guan Wen did not try to stop them, for he knew that this was a kind of sudden enlightenment unique to Tibetan Buddhism—a spiritual and bodily transcendence akin to the “rainbow body” of Master Tree and Master Heavenly Vulture.

The flames in the oil drum went out, leaving only wisps of blue smoke in the room.

“What should we do next?” Gu Qingcheng asked.

“Find the path into the black hole,” Guan Wen replied.

He had gained so much enlightenment from the storytellers’ final performance, but these were all ethereal truths. If the black hole could not be opened, none of it would be of any use.

Naturally, he felt uneasy. As the black-armored general Songtsen Gampo had said, all their strength had been lost in the battle to seal the demon. Even if they entered the black hole, what could they use to face the Rakshasa Demoness in a final struggle?

They left the room to find Basang still standing respectfully by the door, palms pressed together in prayer.

“They’ve achieved enlightenment,” he said, his eyes brimming with an envy that seemed almost unattainable.

By then, the two masters’ figures had vanished, and the song and birdsong faded into the distance.

“It’s over. Let’s go,” said Guan Wen.

Basang shook his head, looking at Guan Wen with deep confusion. “No, it’s not over. I’ve already seen that earth-shattering battle to seal the demon in the past. After I retreat and reflect, I will pass down the heavenly words of the storytellers for all time, until true peace comes to Tibet.”

“Thank you, Guan Wen.” After a pause, Basang spoke again, bowing deeply to Guan Wen with sincere reverence.

“Thank me for what?” Guan Wen gave a wry smile.

“You’re like a ray of light, illuminating the seeds in my heart. What I couldn’t comprehend in twenty years, I suddenly awakened to the moment you stepped through the doorway. I understand now: true cultivation is not about striving, not about randomness, not about abandoning or giving up. Whatever the greatness or insignificance of one’s strength, one must bravely face every calamity that life brings. When the world needs you, give yourself without hesitation—not for the glory, but to burn with all your might. If you ever need me again, just a letter, a word, and I’ll come at once.” Basang bowed again and turned to leave.

Just as he stepped out of Tashilhunpo Monastery, Guan Wen suddenly understood: the young Basang, too, had achieved enlightenment. He had stepped out of the small circle of personal life and death, honor and disgrace, and joined the great current of exorcising demons and safeguarding the Way. At the same time, another truth became clear to him: in the chessboard Princess Wencheng had displayed, the three white stones did not refer to any specific person or dynasty, but to all those who abandoned self-interest and devoted themselves to the greater good. It was the countless sacrifices of ordinary people that formed the force of righteousness necessary to vanquish the demon.

In other words, the exorcism could not be accomplished by any single person, but only by the united efforts of many, all hearts as one.

At Tashilhunpo, monks recited sutras with eyes closed, tourists snapped photos everywhere—a day as ordinary and repetitive as a part on an assembly line, the same day after day.

The two of them had not yet reached the guesthouse when Gu Qingcheng’s phone rang.

“Xiao Huo, you’ve arrived?” she called into the phone, her expression one of profound relief. “Now that you’re here, I feel at ease.”

Guan Wen didn’t know who the caller was, but seeing the delight on Gu Qingcheng’s face, a sudden, inexplicable pang of jealousy swept through him.

After the call, Gu Qingcheng said, “Gao Xiang took Baoling to Severed Head Cliff. My friend Xiao Huo just arrived and has already gone to protect them.”

They immediately flagged down a traveler’s off-road vehicle, paid the driver two hundred yuan, and headed for Severed Head Cliff.

“Who is Xiao Huo?” Guan Wen asked.

“He’s a good friend, a brother to me. He’s Nepali—once a famed assassin in Southeast Asia, but he retired from that world and now lives quietly in Kathmandu, running a small winery. This time, when I realized the Qinglong Society was growing too powerful, I called him in advance. I never expected him to arrive so quickly.” At the mention of Xiao Huo, Gu Qingcheng’s face broke into a joyful smile.

In just half an hour, they reached Severed Head Cliff.

They got out, and the off-road vehicle immediately turned and left, for this place was barren and held no tourist value.

Ahead, Gao Xiang’s off-roader was parked, next to a dark green Mitsubishi Hunter. A slim, medium-built young man leaned against the hood, holding a satellite phone, waving in their direction.

“That’s Xiao Huo,” Gu Qingcheng said.

At the edge of the cliff, Gao Xiang and Baoling stood side by side, facing the empty valley, as still as meditating monks.

As they approached the vehicle, the young man in a leather jacket, jeans, and heavy boots greeted them with a smile, bowing his head to Gu Qingcheng. “Sister Gu, it’s been a while—how have you been?”

He was slender, but every movement radiated strength, like a hunting leopard—silent and poised, making it impossible to underestimate him.

“Xiao Huo, it’s so good to see you again...” Gu Qingcheng clasped his hand. They regarded each other warmly, the joy of old friends reunited shining in their faces.

Guan Wen walked to the cliff’s edge and silently took Baoling’s hand. Her hand was icy cold, as if the chill mountain wind had frozen her through.

Baoling turned, her eyes ringed with deep shadows—clearly, she hadn’t slept well the previous night.

“Why have you come here?” Guan Wen asked.

“Last night I dreamed again—I saw us blocked outside a black door, not knowing how to get in. Behind the door was endless darkness, devouring everything. If that door is opened, the terrible darkness will spill out, swallowing the whole world. Inside, it’s like a cosmic black hole—endless, without beginning or end, without size or limit. First it devours itself, then everything around it, doubling and doubling until it becomes infinite.” Baoling’s hand trembled slightly.

“Don’t be afraid,” Guan Wen said softly.

Banishing nightmares is a long process. As healers say, illness comes like an avalanche and leaves as slowly as unspun silk. Baoling had been haunted by nightmares for so long that to change overnight was almost impossible. Only patience would see her through this ordeal.

“If that really is a cosmic black hole, opening it would be like unleashing Pandora’s box. Whoever opens it may not have the power to close it. That’s why I feel such unspeakable terror,” Baoling said.

Guan Wen didn’t know how to comfort her. For someone who had lived side by side with nightmares for so long, no amount of words could ease her heart. Besides, the information he had received from Caidan Dajie and Master Sangche had only led to more dead ends and confusion. Empty-handed, how could he possibly face the Rakshasa Demoness?