Ancient folktales once spoke of a jade-faced fox. This creature took the form of a stunning beauty, so captivating that a single glance would ensnare any onlooker. The fox practiced dark arts, feasting on human blood and hearts, delighting in the dying wails of its victims. Once, while passing a graveyard, it realized this was where the dead rested and clapped its hands in glee at the sight of funeral paper burning in the sky. From then on, it often wore plain robes the color of that paper, emerging at midnight to hunt. Enraptured by its beauty, no one ever suspected a thing.
*"Such bestial instincts—it couldn't have cultivated for more than two hundred years. Probably rushed into human form for convenience."* Bai Changming, dressed in plain clothes, flipped through a cheap supernatural novel bought off the street before handing it to his steward.
*"My lord?"* The steward, focused on walking, only caught fragments about cultivation and human forms.
*"We're here. Go back and wait. If anyone from court inquires, say I have prior engagements and they should return tomorrow."* With that, Bai Changming stepped forward, eyeing the wooden plaque inscribed with *"Ling'an Temple"* before entering.
The steward bowed and withdrew, long accustomed to his master's ways.
The moment Bai Changming crossed the threshold, an overwhelming suffocation crashed down on him, as if his heart had been seized. But in the next instant, all was calm—bamboo shadows swayed gently under a serene sky.
His meteoric rise and subconscious disbelief that magic existed beyond his own had dulled his vigilance. He dismissed the unease as a fox demon's instinctive aversion to stale Buddhist doctrines and pressed onward.
A young novice bowed and murmured a greeting before leading him deeper into the temple.
Through winding halls and corridors, the scent of *Lengyan* incense grew stronger, though its aura remained concealed. Arrogant and with most of his magic suppressed, Bai Changming's alertness was a shadow of its former self. Yet he advanced.
At last, they stopped before a door. The novice knocked, then stepped back with a polite gesture before departing.
*The master said no demon could remain unaffected by Lengyan incense. Minister Bai has inhaled so much without reaction—could the master have been mistaken?*
The moment Bai Changming stepped inside, the door slammed shut behind him.
The room was barren—no tables, no chairs, only an incense burner and a meditation mat. Monk Nianchu sat cross-legged on the mat, slowly opening his eyes. *"Guest... today, this old monk has not invited a guest."*
*"This is hardly how a host treats a visitor, Venerable Monk. Liuzhou is under my command, let alone a minor temple like Ling'an. If you were in dire straits, a word would have sufficed. Was that cheap jade meant to mock me?"*
*"Amitabha. Chenxiang."*
The seals on the *Lengyan* incense dissolved, unleashing its true scent. Each stick had been consecrated with Buddhist mantras, its fumes now permeating the room.
*"You—!"* Bai Changming's mind reeled. Dizziness struck as he staggered back, bracing against a pillar. His hand shifted, claws unsheathing—three razor-edged strikes shot toward Nianchu.
Behind him, the sealed door revealed a lotus-shaped array, its golden lines blazing with demon-suppressing scripture!
*"The all-powerful Minister of State Affairs... is a demon! Could anything be more absurd?"* Nianchu rose with a thunderous sigh.
Golden light erupted. Every scripture on the walls glared like wrathful guardians, their power crashing down to crush Bai Changming. His skull split with agony; his limbs burned as if flayed. What little magic he retained was nearly useless. Yet he clung to the pillar, refusing to kneel.
*"Demon, you've heard of the jade-faced fox. Left unchecked, monsters wreak havoc—this is an affront to heaven's order. Amitabha. The Buddha is merciful to all. Today, I shall purge you in Dharma's name and restore clarity to the world!"*
Each word—*suppress, heavenly order*—twisted Nianchu's face into something reminiscent of the witch doctors Bai Changming had known. For millennia, demons and Buddhists had clashed, each convinced of their righteousness, each claiming the same *"heavenly order."* A bitter laugh escaped him.
*"Monk... the ten directions hold more than just you. Humans live. Demons live. Ghosts live. Today, you're stronger—you can kill me. But you cannot erase me. And you have no right to speak for heaven's order."* His voice was weak but ice-cold.
After several exchanges, his robes were shredded by flying scripture, blood seeping through. Nianchu preached compassion, yet every spell was lethal.
*"Monk... when you slaughter demons, do you ever think of 'mercy'?"*