Chapter Sixty-Seven: Radiant Brilliance

Guan Wen did not mention the ghostly incident that occurred in the library to Bao Ling. Like her, he was anticipating sunrise, eager to uncover Princess Chao Ge’s plan for exorcism.

Bao Ling said she was tired, so the two of them sat cross-legged in silence, each meditating. The yoga meditation, also known as mantra meditation, derives from Sanskrit. The word “mantra” can be broken into two parts: “man,” meaning mind, and “tra,” meaning to draw away. Thus, mantra means to draw the mind away from all sorts of worldly thoughts, worries, desires, and spiritual burdens, transcending the ignorance and passions of the mundane world, and ultimately entering a state of spiritual absorption.

At first, Guan Wen’s thoughts were fixated on the eastern window, and the coming of dawn became a tremendous psychological burden. Gradually, however, his mood receded like the ebbing tide, and he forgot his questions, forgot where he was, forgot himself entirely, entering a realm of effortless tranquility and freedom.

The guidance of the soul surpasses any guide; no one can stop me from reaching my destination. If I cannot accomplish that task in this life, what is the point of living? Though snow-capped mountains stretch for a thousand miles between us, though we are of different races and speak different tongues, I must go—shattering darkness and ignorance, quelling wars on all sides, so the people may live in peace, and the lands at the foot of the snowy mountains become a paradise...

Someone was whispering by Guan Wen’s ear, the voice of a young woman he had never met.

Compared to the life and death of one person, the fate of the world is like a rivulet to a mighty river. I must cross the mountains, reach the Tibetan lands, and meet the great hero who stands tall between heaven and earth...

Guan Wen suddenly opened his eyes. Beneath the eastern window stood a woman with a head of white hair. Her long hair cascaded to the floor like a dazzling, silvery waterfall.

Outside, the sky was already pale, and all around was silent and still.

Guan Wen looked to his side—Bao Ling was no longer beside him.

All the Elders say we have no hope. They say that with the mountains between us, the Demoness of Rakshasa will not threaten Nepal’s borders; it is better to keep the peace. They are wrong—all of them are wrong. This is the only chance; it must not be missed. Even if no one supports me, I will go through with it, without regret, without turning back...

Guan Wen stood up and silently circled to the woman’s side.

Her profile was as flawless as a masterfully carved portrait, but her unnaturally long silver hair gave her an uncanny air.

Who are you? The woman became aware of Guan Wen and turned slowly.

Her features were even more striking than her silhouette—red lips, white teeth, eyes bright and full of life.

Who are you? Guan Wen retorted.

Hmph, you’re one of the Elders’ spies, aren’t you? Go back and tell them I’ve already sent a message by eagle to the people beyond the mountains; within a few days, their envoys will come to receive me. Once I’ve made up my mind, no one can change it. Her lashes quivered, her brows knitted in anger—she clearly had no regard for Guan Wen.

I am—Guan Wen gave a wry smile—I only wish to know: where is Bao Ling?

What? What did you say? the woman echoed.

Guan Wen replied solemnly, I don’t care if you are Princess Chao Ge or not. As long as my friend Bao Ling is unharmed, that’s all that matters.

Since Kale had said that Princess Chao Ge’s soul lingered in the Summer Palace estate, Guan Wen was convinced that the strange woman before him was the legendary princess.

What are you saying? Princess Chao Ge? I am—

She did not finish. Suddenly, in the eastern sky, a red sun leapt above the mountain peaks. Rays of light burst through the eastern window, filling the meditation chamber with resplendent color, awash in brilliance.

The light was so sudden that Guan Wen’s eyes stung; he dared not look directly, only closed his eyes and bowed his head. When he opened them again, the woman had vanished.

Hey, Bao Ling, where are you? Guan Wen shouted, his body jolting as he was abruptly wrenched from his trance.

He had not, in fact, walked to the window at all. He was still seated by the western wall, Bao Ling meditating a mere arm’s length away. He rubbed his eyes vigorously, then looked up at the eastern window—the morning light was just beginning to brighten the sky.

What happened? Was it all a dream?

As he wondered, Bao Ling suddenly let out a startled cry: Wait—who are you? Who are you, really?

Then she opened her eyes, sprang to her feet, and looked around the room. When she saw Guan Wen, she let out three long sighs and fell silent.

It seems we both fell asleep? Guan Wen asked with a long sigh. Though it was only a dream, the woman with the silver hair had seemed so real, as if someone from his life had suddenly appeared just within reach, only to vanish to the ends of the earth, as swift as lightning, leaving nothing but a lingering sense of loss.

You dreamed too? What did you see? Bao Ling stood at the window, tracing its intricate patterns.

I saw a woman whose hair trailed along the ground, standing right where you are. I thought she was Princess Chao Ge, but she didn’t admit it—

Of course she wasn’t Princess Chao Ge! Bao Ling exclaimed. She was a complete stranger, someone who has never appeared in my dreams before.

Both of them were startled, sensing something ever more uncanny.

At last dawn arrived, and the colored glass in the window began to glow.

Guan Wen surveyed the bare, rectangular room. Aside from an old palace-style armchair placed squarely before the window, there was no other furniture. The wainscoting on the wall was black, stretching from floor to ceiling, and the scrawled characters seemed to have been carved in a hurry with a sharp knife, cutting deep into the wood and exposing the pale oak beneath.

He focused his mind to read the complex traditional script, and found some sentences strangely familiar— “As for the kingdom of Tianzhu, its origins are most ancient. Sages have revered it throughout history, and benevolence and righteousness have become its customs. Yet its events are not chronicled in ancient records, and its lands are distant from the Middle Kingdom. The Classic of Mountains does not record it, nor does the Book of Royal Assemblies. Zhang Qian opened the West, but could only yearn for Qiongzhu; the road to Kunming was closed, and efforts misapplied in the sacred pools. Thus did rare omens and stars remain mysterious for a thousand years; dreams and talismans revealed their hidden light over ten thousand miles...”

These lines seemed to come from some ancient book he had once read, obscure in meaning and difficult in phrasing. Traditional script was complex to begin with, and so different from the simplified characters Guan Wen was used to. The carver’s hasty hand made the text even harder to decipher, so he skipped the illegible parts and read what he could.

“A monk, from youth, gradually entered the Dharma Gate, lamenting that few trod the path of the Only Garden; ever longing for true traces, looking up to Deer Park with yearning heart. Lifting his robes, he entered the pure land, cherishing simple virtue. When the pure wind turned west and the seasons returned east, in the third year of Zhenguan, staff in hand, he followed the road. By the emperor’s favor he reached foreign lands, braving dangers as if they were level ground; relying on the aid of spirits, he trod the path of awe, always in peril yet ever progressing. Through heat and cold, he persevered, seeking the truth, seeing what lies between existence and emptiness; delving deeply into the subtle, discerning what is heard and unheard at the boundary of life and death, dispelling all doubts, awakening wisdom upon the misty ford...”

By the end of the passage, Guan Wen had guessed the book’s identity, but continued reading to be sure—

“He himself traversed one hundred and ten kingdoms, and heard of twenty-eight more, some recorded in earlier classics, some named only in this age. All partook of harmony and beneficent waters, bowing in thanks and seeking to return; officials were asked to change their speech, climbing mountains to offer gifts. They vied to welcome him at their courts, donning ceremonial robes in crowds. The products, customs, and landscapes differed, and these were recorded in the official history...”

Guan Wen understood now: the words covering the western wall were from *The Great Tang Records on the Western Regions*.

*The Great Tang Records on the Western Regions*, or *Records of the Western Regions*, was dictated by the famous Tang Dynasty monk Xuanzang and compiled by his disciple Bianji at Emperor Taizong’s order. The twelve-volume work, completed in the twentieth year of Zhenguan (646 CE), chronicles Xuanzang’s travels in India and the Western Regions over nineteen years.

That set of ancient books was more than a thousand years old; even on the mainland, few modern people mentioned it anymore.

But why carve its words here? Xuanzang’s quest for scriptures was in India and had little to do with Nepal. Princess Chao Ge was Nepali—what special meaning could reciting and carving these words have for her? Guan Wen’s confusion only deepened.

When he left the Tashilhunpo Monastery, he thought Bao Ling might find some relic of Princess Chao Ge in the Summer Palace, and from it deduce clues to the exorcism. But now, what should have been a simple matter had unfurled into a tangled, bizarre, and terrifyingly suspenseful mystery.

What are you thinking? Bao Ling asked. The sun is about to rise.

Morning light shone through the glass, casting dozens of wavering colored halos across her face.

Guan Wen sighed deeply. I was reading these words—could *The Great Tang Records on the Western Regions* be connected to Princess Chao Ge’s path of exorcism?

True meditation is not about asking questions, but about finding answers. The elders of psychology often say: when a person asks a question, the answer already exists in his subconscious. It is precisely because he has a desire to explain something that his mind creates the shape of the question. The question is the surface, the answer is the core; in the interplay between them, there is great mystery, Bao Ling murmured softly.

But—Guan Wen understood the idea, but wracked his brains for an answer and found none.

This is the meditation chamber, a place to awaken the potential within. Don’t speak—gaze into your heart, listen to its voice. The answer is there. The two of them were barely ten paces apart, yet Bao Ling’s voice seemed to grow infinitely distant and hollow, as if echoing from a long tunnel.

The answer... the answer... Guan Wen closed his eyes, sat down on the spot, and strove to clear his mind, letting his thoughts drift freely into unconsciousness.

Suddenly, he recalled the murdered Master Cheng and the descendants of the three thousand exorcist monks hidden in the secret places of Lhasa. A few pieces of information swiftly connected in his mind: Princess Wencheng of the Tang Dynasty, the three thousand exorcists, Princess Wencheng and Princess Chizun, the Tang Dynasty and Nepal... *The Great Tang Records on the Western Regions*, the classic novel *Journey to the West* adapted from it, Master Cheng’s words about a general surnamed Sun entering the demoness’s body...

He carefully recalled Master Cheng’s exact words, which went something like this—

The first attempt to suppress the demon ended in disaster. The demoness’s power was unimaginable; the first group of exorcists was annihilated in her fiery breath. The second group changed the time and place of their ambush, using the cold night and blizzards of the plateau to douse the flames, and at last entrapped her. In the struggle between good and evil, most of the exorcists expended all their strength and were turned into the puppets you see now. The two sides were evenly matched and deadlocked for a long time. Then, inspired by the ‘eagle snatching its prey,’ a general surnamed Sun climbed inside a sacrificial ox and let himself be swallowed by the demoness; within her, he slashed with his blade, forcing her to retreat underground. General Sun did not escape unharmed; he ignited explosives and plunged with a fireball into the bottomless abyss. The surviving exorcists then set up a soul barrier here to guard against the demoness’s return. Later, the second generation exorcists added seal mandalas, mani walls, mani piles, and guarded bridges and corridors as further precautions...

He silently recited the part about General Sun letting himself be swallowed by the demoness, and a flash of insight pierced his mind—his tangled doubts were peeled away layer by layer: Wasn’t this just like the episode in the supernatural novel *Journey to the West* where Sun Wukong enters Princess Iron Fan’s belly to subdue the demon? The demoness’s flames—weren’t they the Flaming Mountain of the novel? In the story, the Jade Emperor sends heavenly warriors to help Sun Wukong defeat the Bull Demon King and Princess Iron Fan—wasn’t that like the Tang emperor sending three thousand exorcists to aid Princess Wencheng in her journey to suppress demons in the west? After Princess Iron Fan’s defeat, she surrendered rather than being killed outright—wasn’t that like how the king and the two princesses could only ‘suppress the demon,’ not destroy her...