For ordinary mortals, Nalanda Mountain holds two irresistible temptations: the promise of instant enlightenment and the practice of dual cultivation between men and women. As for their veracity, since the world is too far removed from Nalanda, distortions inevitably creep into the teachings passed down, blurring the truth. Moreover, no one from Nalanda has ever stepped forward to clarify, leaving these matters as intriguing unsolved mysteries. Xu Fengnian, however, fully supports Nalanda’s silence—better to leave room for imagination than to spell everything out and kill the mystery.
Xu Fengnian first went to the third floor of the martial repository to find the guardian, the old Daoist priest Wei Baoxiang of the Nine-Peck Rice Sect. This floor housed a regularly updated registry of notable figures. Xu Fengnian flipped to the Buddhist volume first. Among the more than twenty sects of Buddhism, Nalanda Mountain ranked highest in the esoteric tradition, so the first section of the esoteric scroll was dedicated to it. Xu Fengnian easily found the entry on that esoteric master, whose titles were impressively long—Great Compassion Dharma King, Bodhisattva in Waiting—and whose status seemed on par with the two elder monks ranked above her.
She hailed from the royal family of Central India and, from a young age, traveled to over a dozen countries with eminent monks, translating countless scriptures, the most famous being *The Awakening of Faith in the Mahayana*. Historical records noted that besides studying the Great Perfection Dharma under the royal teacher Shri Singha, she had also journeyed to the Central Plains to study astronomy and calendrics, engaging with all five schools and seven sects of Central Plains Buddhism. Clearly, she was no recluse confined to a single mountain.
The registry included a vividly rendered portrait of the female Bodhisattva in her youth, radiant and breathtaking. Xu Fengnian handed the secret record back to the old Daoist surnamed Wei, sighing, “Forty-two. Just a bit too old.”
With a trail of sighs, he left the Listening Tide Pavilion. Qingniao waited respectfully on the steps, dressed in a blue robe. To the Young Master, this senior maid lacked only a fine sword to complete her demeanor—her grace and bearing far outshone any female knight-errant outside. Seeing Xu Fengnian, she murmured softly, “The monk is standing at the manor gate.”
Xu Fengnian walked toward the lakeside pavilion, smiling. “Bring him here. I’ll meet this esoteric monk. And have the servants prepare some vegetarian fare. No one else is to approach the lake.”
While waiting, Xu Fengnian closed his eyes, first mulling over the secret intelligence gathered by the manor’s spies about Nalanda Mountain. Despite its modest size of two to three hundred people, Nalanda was rife with factions, each commanding legions of followers. For instance, the Red Sect of esoteric Buddhism, to which Monk Longshou belonged, had only three representatives on the mountain but millions of devotees outside.
His mind eventually settled on the portrait of that female esoteric master. Xu Fengnian shook his head and set the matter aside for now. Since he had descended the mountain, it was time to start planning meticulously for himself. The martial repository was static, but people were dynamic. Like Bai Hu’er Lian, he would devour martial arts manuals—better to know too much than too little. In future battles, every extra bit of knowledge about combat techniques could mean the difference between life and death. It was the same logic as a beginner in Go memorizing standard patterns—more tricks were always better. Xu Fengnian wouldn’t claim any extraordinary insight, but his memory was unmatched, even by his second sister, Xu Weixiong. Without it, he couldn’t have played chess with Li Yishan without a board or pieces, visualizing everything in midair.
Xu Fengnian muttered to himself, “It’s unrealistic to read the entire martial repository like Bai Hu’er Lian, but having him pick two or three books for me daily isn’t too much. One day, I’ll read every secret manual from every major sect. When I left the mountain, the Daoist on the ox relayed a message from the sect leader, Wang Chonglou: the Great Yellow Court’s latent energy in my body can only be fully absorbed if I cultivate the Three Yellow Courts alone. For that, I need a few things from Dragon-Tiger Mountain. Borrow? Those are closely guarded secrets—unlikely. Steal? With my current swordsmanship, tough. Rob? Without six or seven thousand elite Northern Liang cavalry, storming those sacred Buddhist and Daoist mountains is impossible. To raze them, you’d need thirteen or fourteen thousand. Before ascending Wudang, I thought ten thousand cavalry could trample the entire martial world back and forth. I underestimated the heroes of this world. Even Xu Xiao, without imperial decree, can’t move more than five hundred troops out of Liang territory—it’d be tantamount to rebellion.”
If Jiang Ni were here, hearing such mad talk of linking cavalry to the martial world, she’d likely have the urge to stab the Young Master with her divine needle again.
The voluptuous and graceful Hongshu brought over some exquisite vegetarian dishes. The lakeside was already deserted—no matter how outrageous the Young Master’s orders, in the manor, they held more weight than imperial edicts.
Xu Fengnian harbored no reservations toward this maid who’d grown up with him and mused aloud, “It’s time to build a faction. Without a reliable crew, how can I roam the martial world? Maybe I should lay it all out for Xu Xiao?”
Monk Longshou of Nalanda arrived at the pavilion under Qingniao’s guidance. Xu Fengnian gestured for the monk to help himself. The grandly robed monk didn’t stand on ceremony but took only small bites, chewing each mouthful painstakingly slowly—hardly enough to fill his teeth, let alone his stomach. The ascetic practices of esoteric Buddhism were grueling indeed. Among the fourteen small states of the Western Regions, which rejected all philosophies except esoteric Buddhism, the Red, Yellow, and White Sects vied for dominance. While the Central Plains’ Nine Kingdoms’ wars traced back to debates among Confucian scholars at the Shangyin Academy, the Western Regions’ conflicts resembled battles among deities. The Yellow and White Sects had long held sway, while the Red Sect adhered strictly to ancient traditions, meticulously practicing the Nine Vehicles and Three Divisions, with a focus on the Great Perfection Dharma of the Mind Division. Monk Longshou’s master was the first female Dharma King in esoteric history, a figure no consort, no matter how exalted, could ever compare to.
Xu Fengnian cut to the chase: “The Six-Pearl Master wants to dual cultivate with me?”
Monk Longshou nodded calmly. The monk’s expression remained blank at the mention of dual cultivation, while the worldly Young Master found it absurd. Even Hongshu and Qingniao exchanged glances, baffled.
Xu Fengnian asked skeptically, “Is it true that no esoteric master can attain the Dharmakaya or Sambhogakaya Buddha without practicing dual cultivation?”
The middle-aged monk in crimson robes answered woodenly, “Only those who have transcended desire may cultivate the Supreme Yoga, which is reserved for those of the highest capacity.”
Xu Fengnian rubbed his temples. “Why me?”
The monk shook his head, clearly unaware of the details.
With that, only a fool would go to Nalanda Mountain. Forty-two might be a blink for a Bodhisattva, but for a mortal woman, it was undeniably old. No matter how well-preserved, it wasn’t something Xu Fengnian could accept.
That aside, the Red, Yellow, and White Sects’ conflicts had escalated in recent years. If the secret records claimed the Six-Pearl Master’s dual cultivation would bring Great Perfection, would the more powerful White and Yellow Sects stand idly by while the Red Sect reaped such glory? Xu Fengnian might be skinned alive before even reaching Nalanda. Some esoteric sects used skulls with removed crowns as ghost-summoning tools, and human-bone robes and skin drums were common in historical records—chilling to the core. The Six-Pearl Bodhisattva was formidable, revered as the Root Master, with Red Sect devotees believing her to be the vajra manifestation of Amitabha and Avalokiteshvara’s body, speech, and mind. The “six pearls” referred to her six transformation forms: the Contemplative Master, the Lotus King Master, the Wrathful Vajra Master, and others. It all sounded invincible, but no matter how great, she still trailed behind Nalanda’s elder monks, eating their dust.
Xu Fengnian didn’t trust this Red Sect, struggling between the Yellow and White Sects. Beyond fearing death, he didn’t want Nalanda or the female Dharma King disrupting his nascent plans.
Refusing to go was one thing; needlessly antagonizing the Red Sect was another. It was best to stall. Besides, monks from Nalanda were treasures. Xu Fengnian forced a smile. “I’m tied up for now.”
The monk repeated his infuriating line: “This humble monk can wait.”
Xu Fengnian asked curiously, “How long can you wait?”
The monk replied slowly, “Thirty-one more years.”
Xu Fengnian nearly spat blood.
What monstrous patience. Better to avoid Nalanda in the future. If someone held a grudge, he’d never know peace.
Monk Longshou, seemingly willing to wait until Xu Fengnian’s children grew up, didn’t linger in the manor but remained in the city. Given Northern Liang’s tolerance for monks, this odd monk wouldn’t starve.
Sitting in the pavilion, Xu Fengnian muttered, “Bizarre.”
Hongshu teased, “Young Master, why not just comply with that esoteric master?”
Xu Fengnian sighed dramatically. “A forty-two-year-old spinster! Even if she’s a Bodhisattva, this old cow eating tender grass is too much.”
Hongshu sat beside him, massaging his shoulders with deft fingers, giggling coquettishly. “Perhaps the female Bodhisattva has mastered the art of preserving her youth.”
Xu Fengnian shot her a glare.
Qingniao said calmly, “Today is the day for issuing permits.”
Xu Fengnian perked up. “Any big fish?”
Qingniao replied evenly, “Two groups of unidentified martial artists have gathered in the city. Their leaders are of the third rank.”
Xu Fengnian sighed regretfully. “In the past, they’d be big fish. But now, having seen the world, alas. Well, better than nothing.”
Hongshu chuckled.
This Young Master had never lacked for whimsical ideas, likely a result of the Pillar of State Xu Xiao’s lax parenting—or deliberate indulgence—with no signs of restraint. In truth, over the past decade, Xu Xiao had only laid down two rules: a ten-year ban on touching swords and one other matter. Beyond that, he never taught Xu Fengnian how to behave. Whether as a profligate wastrel or an idle loafer, Xu Fengnian had figured it all out himself. The scholar Li Yuanzhi never bothered with trivialities. When his second sister, Xu Weixiong, was home, she could rein him in. But after she left for the Shangyin Academy, Xu Fengnian ran wild—dallying with women, splurging on poetry, keeping vicious lackeys, and setting dogs on enemies, all in the name of fun. No wonder scholars who left Liang cursed him as an unprincipled, unlearned rogue.
Xu Fengnian grinned. “Pass the word: tonight, we won’t play the game of lax outside but tight inside. Let them all in at once. These ‘fish’ sneaked into the city while Xu Xiao’s away, likely targeting me. I’ll wait here. Qingniao, summon one swordsman and one blade-wielder from the manor. I want to watch the fight. Desperate outlaws’ moves are the most fluid—more instructive than rigid manual texts.”
Qingniao left quietly. She handled tasks, big or small, flawlessly.
Hongshu extended a delicate finger, aiming for the crimson mark between Xu Fengnian’s brows.
Xu Fengnian caught her audacious finger, smiling. “Rebelling?”
Hongshu pouted. “Just one touch.”
Xu Fengnian shook his head.
Hongshu’s eyes turned mournful.
Xu Fengnian ignored her theatrics, his expression turning grim. “Second Sister’s coming. The manor’s in for thunder and rain.”
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