Chapter Eleven: The Young Nun and the Unkempt Scholar
“Oh? It’s actually a corpse puppet… Uh, Amitabha, how fortunate, how fortunate!”
The voice was clear and melodious, soft as glutinous rice, and in the patchwork of moonlight, a figure emerged. She wore loose robes of pale moon-white, a young nun with a delicate, lovely face.
She held a mulberry wood fish-drum in her left hand and a small vajra mallet in her right. Her demeanor was solemn and pure, reciting Buddhist incantations under her breath, and her whole body was shrouded in a silky, faint golden light.
‘This nun is so small…’
‘Ahem, so flat… No, this nun is clearly a master!’
Finally, a true master had appeared. He Chang’an’s nerves settled, and he exhaled a long, stale breath. Yet the sudden relaxation after such intense anxiety nearly caused him to stumble.
As the young nun stepped into the courtyard, the “Old Tiger Zhang” who had crawled from the coffin had already exited. Smelling the scent of the living, its tightly shut eyes snapped open, blazing with sinister red light.
It stared fixedly at the nun, slowly opening its mouth to reveal two rows of sharp teeth, a strange hissing rising from its throat…
‘So this is a corpse puppet?’ He Chang’an’s skin crawled as he looked at the shriveled, unrecognizable form of “Old Tiger Zhang.”
Young master, you’re the legendary Avalokitesvara, the merciful savior—please destroy this monster…
“Beast, cease at once!”
The young nun rebuked in a crisp, girlish voice, striking down with her vajra mallet.
A fist-sized golden character for “Buddha” shot forth, hitting the corpse puppet squarely on the forehead and causing it to stumble.
The puppet shook its head heavily, seemingly dazed.
But after only two breaths, it regained its senses, threw back its head and howled, pounded its own chest several times, then spread its withered arms and lunged at the nun.
“Om!”
Her red lips parted and she uttered a melodious syllable—one-sixth of the True Word—while tapping the fish-drum.
The puppet was dazed again, halted its steps, and hammered its own head with its fists, as if its soul was under attack.
“Om mani padme hum!”
Seeing her attack was effective, delight lit the nun’s pretty face. She recited the full Six-Syllable Great Bright Mantra and struck the fish-drum six times.
‘Excellent combat sense—strike while the enemy is weak…’
Watching from the guest room, He Chang’an nodded silently, impressed by the nun’s remarkable strength at last.
The corpse puppet was suppressed by the mantra and the repeated golden “Buddha” characters from the drum, leaving it stunned and dizzy, shivering as it spun circles on the ground.
‘It seems Buddhist control skills are truly formidable…’ He Chang’an’s heart burned with envy; he resolved to get close to this “pretty young nun” whenever possible.
Though, she was rather unremarkable…
“Om mani padme hum!”
With another round of mantra and six taps of the drum, the puppet trembled more violently, even starting to foam at the mouth…
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“Om mani padme hum!”
…
So for the duration of a tea’s time, He Chang’an watched as the powerful corpse puppet, under the nun’s barrage of mantra and drum, kept spinning in place…
‘Master, it’s controlled—time for the ultimate move!’
He Chang’an grew anxious, nearly leaping out to shout, ‘Damn it, who keeps controlling but never finishes the job?’
But soon he understood.
The young nun probably only knew two skills…
Like that girl he once saw playing support in games, whose only abilities were control and healing; either she controlled, or controlled and controlled, or controlled, healed herself, then kept controlling…
‘She’s going to break the puppet at this rate…’
He Chang’an began to worry.
He noticed the nun’s aura was waning, while the puppet’s was growing ever more savage and frightening.
This won’t do—he couldn’t just watch his teammate control the enemy and wait to ambush.
He Chang’an swiftly drew his waist knife, kicked open the guest room door, and prepared to charge in—
‘Let go of that puppet, let me handle this!’
“Confucius said: ‘Learning and practicing what one has learned, isn’t it a joy?’” A bright, high-pitched reading voice nearly threw out He Chang’an’s back.
He turned to see a scruffy scholar, hair streaked with gray, at least fifty, holding a “Sage’s Work” and swaying as he entered the courtyard.
“The dusk falls, the old crow flies before the hall.
Hmph, as expected, monsters are causing mischief!”
The scholar tore a page from his book, recited, “The Sage does not speak of chaos and monsters,” and flung it out.
His manner was carefree, his gestures poetic…
Was this a Confucian master?
The page swelled in the wind, transforming into fist-sized ancient characters that burst with dazzling azure light, slamming into the puppet’s head and body.
The spinning corpse puppet halted for a breath, spat foam onto the ground, shrieked skyward, then staggered toward the scholar.
“You pedant!” The nun’s cheeks flushed, clearly exhausted from her spellwork. “You stinking scholar, you impoverished pedant—can’t you exorcise evil?
I’d clearly—cough, I’d obviously suppressed it, why did you wake it up again?”
The nun grew angrier, stomped her foot, and puffed her cheeks out in irritation…
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Seeing the puppet pounce, the scholar’s face flickered with alarm. He tore another page from his book and sternly rebuked, “Respect the spirits and keep your distance!”
Several fist-sized characters shot forth, striking the puppet barely ten feet away.
The puppet stumbled, flickered, and was instantly transported forty feet away.
It seemed bewildered, shaking its head hard, scratching the back of its skull, and emitting a string of curse-like sounds before charging the scholar again.
“Fine words and an attractive appearance are rarely accompanied by virtue!”
“Be careful to honor the ancestors, so the people’s virtue returns to goodness!”
“In a word, think without evil!”
…
With each rebuke, the scholar tore page after page—soon half the book was gone—yet the puppet was only pushed back, moved around, or staggered…
‘Damn it, a character with built-in sound effects, and still so useless…’
Not only was the nun furious, even He Chang’an could barely watch.
This scholar was the kind of teammate who’d get the whole team killed…
“Bald… Master, shall we join forces to slay this fiend?” The scholar, seeing his book nearly spent and unable to destroy the puppet, called out in a clear, calm voice.
Had He Chang’an not seen it himself, he’d have believed this was a grand Confucian, righteously inviting the virtuous to uphold justice and banish evil together…
‘How is he even more shameless than He Chang’an?’
“Hmph, Amitabha, you stinking pedant—you’re usually so capable, aren’t you?”
The nun puffed her cheeks again, scolding angrily,
“Go ahead, show off, just show off!
Hmph, how fortunate, how fortunate!”
Too exasperated, she found a small wooden stool and sat down, leisurely watching the “tiger fight”…
‘Damn it, this Tang Dynasty is mad—the people are plagued by ghosts and monsters, slaughtered at will, and even disciples of Confucian sages and Buddhist nuns, these supposed masters…
Their minds must have been kicked by a donkey!’
He Chang’an could bear it no longer. He drew his blade again, ready to charge once more…