Chapter 253 — The Monk's Heart Awakens
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 1 of 4
"Slay the Hierarch of the Dark Demon Cult!
Avenge our elder brothers! " For a moment the monks were beside themselves with fury and came swarming in to kill. Shen Mu frowned slightly, gave his body a shift, and the Ten-Thousand-Armed Vajra burst forth; Buddha-light surged, and through the Hall of Heavenly Dragons coiled the sound of Buddhist chanting, vast and resounding.
Shen Mu stood like an immovable great Buddha, meeting the blows that came at him from every direction head-on. Bang, bang, bang — the explosions came without cease, and one after another the monks were flung in all directions, toppling dragon pillar after dragon pillar; some snapped clean through, broken into three or four pieces. Shen Mu gave a shake, and the thousand arms vanished from before and behind him; the Buddha-light of a moment ago vanished as well.
He swept a glance over the monks sprawled every which way on the ground, flicked his sleeve and said: "This is your Great Thunderclap Temple's Eight Thunderclap Secrets — is it too a demonic art?
An art used for good is good; used for evil, even the Eight Thunderclap Secrets, even the Thunderclap Mahayana Sutra, is demonic! " Old Master Huo coughed once and said to the white-browed monk Jingming, who stood gaping beside him: "Elder brother, your Hall of Heavenly Dragons is in rather too much disorder. Best we move along to the Heart Zen Hall. " The white-browed monk Jingming looked at Shen Mu, anger seething in his heart — most of those Shen Mu had wounded or killed were his own disciples — but Old Master Huo and the blind elder were right there at his side, and he dared not act rashly.
Especially that blind elder beside him: though both eye-sockets were emptied and bare, the moment Jingming so much as stirred he felt a killing intent issue from the old man's body, forever circling at his throat. If he truly dared strike, that bamboo staff would surely pierce his throat the very next instant.
There was a flaw in his Thunderclap Mahayana Sutra, and it lay exactly at the throat; try as he might, he could never amend it. Nor did the other white-browed monks of the Hall of Heavenly Dragons dare to move.
Standing beside Old Master Huo and the blind elder, they felt as though two Mount Sumerus pressed down on them: one twitch and they would be crushed to powder. Sweat broke out on the monk Jingming's forehead. "Junior brother," he said, "your disciples have beaten my monks to death in my Hall of Heavenly Dragons, and wrecked the Hundred Dragons Painting.
.
.
" Old Master Huo said nothing. The blind elder sat perfectly at ease, leaning on his bamboo staff. "Elder brother Jingming," he said, "the tearing-down of the Hall of Heavenly Dragons today is trouble you brought on yourself.
Had you not named Shen as the Demon Cult's Hierarch, none of this would have happened. Do not let this matter grow; the bigger it grows, the harder it will be to clean up.
" A bead of cold sweat slid down the monk Jingming's forehead.
He coughed once, a sound like a great bell, and said: "The Hierarch Shen has come from afar as our guest. Let no monk act wilfully. All of you, withdraw. " At these words the other monks in the Hall of Heavenly Dragons felt a great weight lift; they hurried to help up the monks who had fallen.
"Shen," said Old Master Huo, "come back. " The blind elder said with a smile: "You have fought, you have smashed, you have spoken your piece.
We are guests, after all, and ought not be too outrageous. Old Master Huo says we are to move along to the Heart Zen Hall.
Are you not coming?
" Shen Mu assented. He bowed to the monk Chenghuai and said: "Little monk, if you cannot make a go of it in the Great Thunderclap Temple, you can come find me in the Heavenly Sacred Cult. " Chenghuai said doubtfully: "How would I fail to make a go of it?
My master treats me wonderfully, and my fellow disciples look after me well. I will not turn to the crooked path.