Chapter Ninety: Manifestations of the Heavenly Dragon Eight Divisions

Suddenly, a glow like fire drifted slowly up from the mountain below. When it drew near, Guan Wen saw that it was a man carrying a ruby the size of a fist, walking toward them with it held aloft. It was the Fire-Bright Venerable. On his back, slung diagonally, was a heavy long blade wrapped in red silk.

Venerable, why are you here? The three stepped forward to meet him.

I told you: I am a lamp. A lamp’s purpose is to light the path of those who cultivate the Way in the darkest of hours. So I have come. Follow me.

The Fire-Bright Venerable walked toward the cliff edge and lifted his right hand high. The ruby in it radiated waves of brilliance, like a beacon in the night, at once cleaving open the curtain of darkness.

Beneath Severed-Head Cliff there came another deafening boom, and a black shadow shot upward into the sky. At the same time, on nameless peaks to the south, southwest, west, northwest, and north, five red lights blazed into being, answering the ruby in the Fire-Bright Venerable’s hand across the distance.

Sublime relic, your radiance fills heaven and earth, illuminating past and present; within and beyond the Secret School, unrivaled am I. Go!

Suddenly, the Fire-Bright Venerable hurled the ruby. The five red lights from the other directions flew in as well, and the six beams collided and intertwined in midair, flooding the abyss behind Mount Niseri with light.

Guan Wen saw that the black shadow suspended in the air was Gao Xiang. The vajra that had pierced his chest had been drawn out, leaving a sudden and horrifying fist-sized hollow.

That is not Gao Xiang. It is the demoness. This time, it is the true moment of decisive battle, Guan Wen said in a low voice.

Gao Xiang spun furiously in midair, sending out shrill, piercing peals of laughter.

Guan Wen listened closely, and discovered that the laughter came from three people: Gao Xiang, Tang Jue, and the demoness.

The Fire-Bright Venerable chanted aloud: The king sets forth and comes to the sacred plain, where he beholds with his own eyes the naturally manifest Six-Syllable Mantra. He then bathes and purifies himself and prays with devotion. From the self-arisen Six-Syllable Mantra there suddenly issues rainbow-colored light, a riot of five hues, shining upon the naturally appearing sacred images carved upon the opposing cliff: Avalokitesvara, Tara, and the Horse-Headed Lord of Wrath. Then from the images of Avalokitesvara and the others there issues light in return, which also shines upon the Six-Syllable Mantra. Their garlands of radiance join like rainbows, visible to all eyes, forming a wondrous and rare spectacle. The king then prays before the self-manifested image of Great Compassion, and at once from the smiling face of the Savior Avalokitesvara comes forth light, becoming flame; from the wrathful face comes forth light, becoming the Horse-Headed Lord of Wrath and the Nectar-Vortex King of Wrath. The wrathful deities and their flames rush like meteors, destroying the places where demons and spirits gather in heaps; by the power of their transformations, they stir up the fierce winds and fires of the end of the age, driving all malignant ghosts and monsters beyond the far side of the outer sea. Again, upon the rocky cliffs of Lawaze, there appear by themselves the sacred images of Amitabha, Kasarpani Avalokitesvara, and the Horse-Headed Lord of Wrath...

Those were lines from The Record of the King and His Ministers, describing the heroic deed by which the Tibetan king Songtsen Gampo, through boundless miraculous power, banished demons and protected the peace of Lhasa.

Venerable, this is the moment I have waited for. I will go, Guan Wen said calmly.

The Fire-Bright Venerable tugged the cord at his chest, and the great blade fell into Guan Wen’s hands.

A true hero can step forward at the critical instant, forget life and death, and labor for the happiness of all under heaven. Remember the Six-Syllable Mantra: Om Mani Padme Hum. It holds subtle and inconceivable merit, and contains limitless doors of samadhi. All vajra guardians and the eight classes of nonhuman beings rejoice in and support it. Go—Om Mani Padme Hum, Om Mani Padme Hum...

As the Fire-Bright Venerable chanted, the valley at once became flat ground. From peaks all around, voices answered in unison, reciting the Six-Syllable Mantra together.

We will go with you too, whether in life or in death. Gu Qingcheng and Bao Ling came over, one on either side, and stood with Guan Wen.

To the Tang and Han Emperor of the East, I, Songtsen Gampo, can at any time manifest five thousand incarnations; within a single day I can promulgate royal law and cause the Buddha’s teaching to flourish throughout the lands of Tibet. The king’s countless incarnations cast out light, and from that light were manifested innumerable heavenly princes, who in turn emitted radiance illuminating the ten directions. Then the king placed his right hand upon the crown of the Nepalese queen Bhrikuti, and in an instant Bhrikuti became a white lotus of eight petals. He placed his left hand upon the crown of the Han queen Wencheng, and in an instant Wencheng became a blue lotus of sixteen petals. At that time the king raised his eyes for a moment to gaze upon the image of the eleven-faced Great Compassionate Avalokitesvara, and then, together with the white and green auspicious lotuses, became a mass of light that was absorbed into the breast of the Great Compassionate Avalokitesvara...

Those were the words recorded in The Pillar Chronicle, and as the Fire-Bright Venerable recited them, Guan Wen, Gu Qingcheng, and Bao Ling advanced together.

I have come, I have come, I have come... Gao Xiang rushed to meet them, while three voices rang from his throat.

Gu Qingcheng and Bao Ling cried out at the same time, placing their hands upon Guan Wen’s shoulders, pouring both of their powers wholly into his body.

In that instant, he was no longer the frail scholar who knew only how to hold a brush and paint. He had become the War God Guan Yu, unrivaled in loyalty and righteousness under heaven.

The moment the two sides met, Guan Wen’s blade fell, splitting Gao Xiang into two, then four, then eight, then sixty-four... until he was chopped into millions of pieces.

I can be as small as a mustard seed, so tiny you cannot even find a place to strike. I can also be as vast as Mount Sumeru, so immense you do not know where to begin. Guan Wen, this is the foundation of the secret art of the Eight Classes of Dragons, Eight Births and Eight Deaths. I possess the powers of the eight kinds of nonhuman beings: devas, nagas, yakshas, gandharvas, asuras, garudas, kinnaras, and mahoragas. I soar freely in the world of the nonhuman. What can you do to me? That was Tang Jue’s voice.

Guan Wen, across millions of worlds, millions of spaces, and millions of reincarnations, I still suppress you. You are no match for me. The difference between us is so clear—what is left for you to struggle for? Better to submit obediently and become my slave; perhaps you can still keep your life. Better to live a wretched life than die well; that is the highest truth of conduct in this world. Come, come, as long as you put down your blade and yield, I can reward you with two bones to gnaw on, hahahahaha... That was Gao Xiang’s voice.

This is the age of the resurgence of the demonic path. The sky is dark enough, the earth is heavy enough, human nature dark and ambiguous enough, and human wisdom foolish enough. If I come, I can change this world; I merely follow the will of heaven and the will of the people. In any case, the people are meant to be ruled, meant to be slaughtered. Whether you kill, I kill, or he kills—what difference does it make? Smart people know how to read the tides. Why waste effort on thankless things? Come to my side. I will give you everything you desire... That was the demoness’s voice.

Three voices, three lives, all gathered within Gao Xiang—terrible, uncanny, and chilling to the bone.

Though they had been cut apart, they had not been cut to death; they lived on in the countless fragments of Gao Xiang’s body.

I have seen the Eight Classes of Dragons in the stone carvings of Mount Baoding at Dazu in Chongqing, and I have also immersed myself in the secret art of Eight Births and Eight Deaths that you unleashed. So you and I both know that all eight kinds of nonhuman beings are demonic creatures of the divine way. You cannot possibly control them entirely by yourself, nor can you alone contain all the nonhuman beings of the world within one body. And when we were in Nepal, you already tried and failed to remove completely the root of wisdom within me. What does that prove? It proves my wisdom surpasses yours, and your secret art cannot shake my foundation in the least. Since the Holy Warrior Guan Yu could drink warmed wine and then cut down Hua Xiong, behead Yan Liang and slay Wen Chou, and fight his way through five passes to kill six generals, what in the world could possibly block my blade? Guan Wen answered Tang Jue thus.

The Holy Warrior could go alone to an enemy’s camp, flood the Seven Armies, and scrape poison from his bones while curing his wounds; he could look down on all hardships and dangers in the world. So long as he lived, if gods stood in his way he would slay the gods, and if Buddhas stood in his way he would slay the Buddhas—let alone a clown like you? He answered Gao Xiang thus.

Human beings and demons cannot both stand. Because demonic nature has invaded human nature and thrown this splendid world into madness and chaos, I remade the mandala to draw you out. Do not think that merely escaping the mandala of the Scroll of the Riverbank at Qingming means you may run wild at will. Have you realized that this valley too is a mandala? That you are still within the boundless power of the Tibetan Buddhist mandala? He answered the demoness thus.

Indeed, the valley was itself a mandala magnified beyond measure. Guan Wen did not know which sage or great master had first constructed it, but he believed that to exorcise evil, the people of Tibetan Buddhism had already done far, far too much—some of it recorded in history, and some of it known only to heaven.

I do not believe it... No one understands the power of the Eight Classes of Dragons better than I do. In this regard, I have already reached perfection—Tang Jue shrieked.

I can too, Guan Wen said in a deep voice.

From the five directions where the red lights had burst forth earlier, figures now strode forward. To the south and north came Tseden Dajie and Master Sangche. To the west, southwest, and northwest stood the one king and two princesses Guan Wen had once seen in his visions: the black-armored king Songtsen Gampo, Princess Wencheng, and Princess Bhrikuti.

What are they? What are they supposed to be? Tang Jue screamed shrilly.

They are the true Eight Classes of Dragons, Guan Wen answered coldly.

In an instant, Songtsen Gampo became the imposing deity of the heavens; Princess Wencheng became the free and graceful naga; Princess Bhrikuti became the nimble and battle-ready yaksha; Master Sangche became the faint and ethereal gandharva; and Tseden Dajie became the mahoraga with a human body and serpent’s head. These were five of the Eight Classes of Dragons. Then Guan Wen became Garuda, Gu Qingcheng became a peerlessly beautiful and dazzling asura, and Bao Ling became the kinnaras with long sleeves flowing in elegant dance.

From the palms of the Eight Classes of Dragons burst forth blazing heavenly thunder. Tang Jue let out a miserable scream, and under the combined strike of the eight classes, was reduced to dust.

I had thought the Rakshasa demoness was a being with one body and two heads, male and female at once. Only now do I understand that she was actually a being with one body and three heads. No wonder the Tibetan Buddhists’ journeys of exorcism failed again and again—it was all because they had never seen the demoness’s full form. This time, at last, the truth stands revealed, sighed the black-armored king Songtsen Gampo.

Well done, well done. Princess Wencheng smiled as she pressed her palms together.

Let it end here, then, said Princess Bhrikuti as she lowered her head and stepped back.

This is the true final battle, the true ending! Tseden Dajie, one-armed and haggard, cried out with uplifted arm.

True heroes change the world, while ordinary people are changed by it. Go, let us go walk our own roads now... Master Sangche caught hold of Tseden Dajie’s sleeve.

All the illusions of the Eight Classes of Dragons quietly receded. Guan Wen swung his blade once more, and amid the millions of fragments, Gao Xiang’s severed head burst with blood and fell to the ground.