ATEG Chapter 85.1

A sudden cold wind arose, and the numerous lamps burning before the divine statue instantly turned into a dim, eerie green. Marquis Wu’s figure vanished from where he stood, reappearing in front of Li Chi, holding a long blade that he abruptly brought down!

Li Chi sat calmly in his chair, saying leisurely, “Power is not easily accumulated. Why must Marquis Wu be so hasty?”

When his words began, Marquis Wu’s blade was precisely one inch and two fen above his head. When his words ended, the blade light had already fallen to half an inch above the ground, nearly splitting the exquisite patterns on the floor tiles.

The blade light glowed an eerie green, capable of cleaving both body and soul. Yet when this blade fell, it found no purchase at all. Li Chi, along with his chair, remained completely motionless. Marquis Wu felt as though he had struck at empty air.

The person before him was utterly unharmed, still sitting there with a faint smile, watching him. Even his breathing hadn’t become the slightest bit disordered.

Having missed with one strike, Marquis Wu simply withdrew his blade. The edge scraped along the ground as he pulled it back, yet the patterns on the stone tiles remained completely undamaged.

The hall doors remained closed, but the eerie green lamplight had already returned to normal.

“Why has Your Excellency come?”

“Passing by, curious, so I came in to take a look.” Li Chi answered again.

Marquis Wu furrowed his brow, raised the wine flask in his hand, and took several gulps directly. Some wine spilled from the corner of his mouth, which he didn’t bother to wipe away, and continued asking, “Your Excellency has come merely out of curiosity?”

Li Chi nodded.

“Then it is I who have failed as a host.” Marquis Wu suddenly changed his attitude, raising his hand and clapping. “Someone! Prepare a feast!”

The atmosphere in the hall suddenly relaxed. The lamplight brightened, gorgeous curtains swayed, and clever boys and beautiful servants appeared in an instant, bearing cups and dishes with skillful words and laughter. Melons, fruits, wine, and food flowed like water. The banquet table was set, and then song and dance began. Bright pearls studded the hall’s ceiling, and great candles blazed brilliantly on the floor. Though all doors and windows were shut, it was as bright as daylight. The rear hall of this Marquis Wu’s Temple, after transforming from a solemn shrine into a sinister ghost realm, now in the blink of an eye transformed from that sinister ghost realm into a lively banquet.

Marquis Wu had somehow already taken his seat at the head table, and Li Chi had also taken the guest’s position.

“From where does the guest come?” Marquis Wu asked with a smile.

“From the mountains.” Li Chi replied.

“Where do you intend to go?”

“Wherever my whim takes me.”

“Please drink this fine wine!” Marquis Wu raised his cup, and rich wine arose within it of its own accord.

Li Chi drank it and praised, “Excellent!”

“Please taste this fine cuisine!” Marquis Wu raised his arm, and serving maids brought dishes to the table.

Li Chi lifted his chopsticks and also praised, “Excellent!”

“Please observe the song and dance!” Marquis Wu clapped his hands, and musicians, singers, and dancers arose in the center.

Li Chi raised his eyes and praised again, “Excellent!”

The feast lasted three days, with only the host and guest present. Yet as long as the guest did not leave the table and the host did not see the guest off, the feast continued without stopping.

After three days, Marquis Wu set down his wine cup, turned to Li Chi, and asked, “Is the guest still satisfied?”

Li Chi smiled, looking at Marquis Wu. When they first met, he had appeared casual and dissolute. When he struck with that blade, he looked both ruthless and decisive, yet he had withdrawn with perfect control—that was merely a probing attack with power held in reserve. After that one blade strike, he had spent three days as an enthusiastic and generous host, with no trace of the greedy light that had been in his eyes before.

The serious and solemn expression with which he now asked his question revealed once more the sharp decisiveness that had been hidden in his eyes at their first meeting.

“Satisfied.” Li Chi replied with a smile.

“Good!” Marquis Wu raised his wine cup again and drank deeply three times. “Let this compensate for my earlier discourtesy.”

“Now that I am the host, I have no further discourtesy. I hope the guest will also not be discourteous.” He looked at Li Chi, his gaze piercing.

With these words, a rule descended simultaneously, settling upon Li Chi.

Li Chi laughed.

Laughter can express many meanings, and when faced with this kind of sudden restrictive measure, it often signifies shocked anger or mocking contempt. But Li Chi’s laugh was not like that.

Marquis Wu looked at Li Chi with piercing eyes. He had never been able to see through this uninvited guest, couldn’t distinguish whether his intentions were good or evil. He had always thought the guest cultivated an extremely sophisticated path of wind—so sophisticated that even amid the chaos of spiritual essence during this great calamity, he could still wield the wind with such ethereal freedom that it was difficult to fathom. But in that laugh just now, he seemed to glimpse light. Light that illuminated the entire chamber’s darkness and drove back all malevolent spirits.

That laughter was open and clear.

Li Chi paid no mind to Marquis Wu’s methods. This was a very ancient, orthodox, but gradually declining cultivation method called Keeping the Precepts.

To keep precepts, one must first receive precepts. After receiving precepts, if one could maintain them unbroken for a long time, one could gradually gain a kind of divine ability—the power of precept rules. When one’s received precepts could be maintained to the point of perfect harmony, one could actively create a precept covenant that would restrict both oneself and others.

The better one maintained one’s own precepts and the more appropriate and complete the precept covenant one created, the greater the divine power.

Keeping precepts was an essential part of almost all cultivation, but being able to cultivate precept-keeping to the degree that it produced this kind of divine ability was extremely difficult.

For example, the precept against false speech required that under no circumstances could one speak untrue words—not even in jest. There was no such thing as a well-intentioned lie, nor could one speak presumptuous words about things one couldn’t be certain of.

If one did, the precept was broken. The power of previously maintained precepts would be greatly diminished, the perfect harmony broken. If one wanted to regain the power of perfect harmony, one would have to start over from the beginning.

For this reason, modern cultivators rarely maintained precepts with such strictness, mostly cultivating through expedient methods that permitted temporarily departing from precepts in special circumstances. For example, when questioned by someone seriously ill, in order not to cause them to fall into despair and await death, one could falsely claim their illness was minor, allowing the patient to develop hope and confidence, increasing the possibility of recovery.

This cultivation method was now rare to see even in orthodox lineage transmissions, yet unexpectedly it was seen here in this shadow deity at the borders of Liang Kingdom.

Now that Marquis Wu had fulfilled his role as a good host, Li Chi must also become a good guest.

But this restriction was equivalent to nothing for Li Chi—he hadn’t intended to be a bad guest anyway.

“Having received such hospitality, I should return the courtesy.” Li Chi raised his arm, and a qin appeared on his lap.

He raised his hand and plucked the strings.

As the qin music arose, Marquis Wu’s body trembled, and his hand that was holding the wine cup and about to drink again froze in mid-air.

All doors and windows of the rear hall were closed, yet at this moment it was as if a clean wind had blown in, dispersing the chamber’s wine and food aromas, dispersing all darkness and turbidity, extinguishing the bright candles, dimming the luminous pearls, yet making the entire great hall brighten. It made all the precious treasures in the hall dim like fireflies in daylight, as if covered in dust for ages—or rather, it wasn’t that the wind had dimmed them, but that the qin music made them reveal their true appearance.

Not only the lamps, furnishings, floor, and beams were like this, even the divine statues enshrined in the hall were all covered in dust, with the Marquis Wu statue on the main seat especially so. That dust seemed mixed with grease, clinging tightly to every corner of the hall.

The qin music rose higher, and Marquis Wu half-closed his eyes, his entire body tense like a bow about to snap. But the qin music soon turned and fell, flowing like a gentle wind, passing through fingers, slipping into collars, seeming to flow along the neck straight into the chest, to blow away the heavy layer of old dust on the heart. Marquis Wu gradually relaxed with it, his tense face becoming peaceful.

After the qin music ended, Marquis Wu exhaled a long breath. This breath transformed into wind in the hall—at first just a gentle breeze, but quickly becoming a fierce gale that blew away the dust that seemed to cling to the floor, furnishings, and divine statues. Yet when Marquis Wu’s breath dissipated and the wind ceased, it still hadn’t been able to blow away all the dust in the hall. In the end, a layer of ash remained adhered to the Marquis Wu statue.

Marquis Wu opened his eyes. The dust that hadn’t been blown away disappeared into the statue, leaving no trace visible.

He looked at Li Chi, his gaze wary and puzzled, yet also containing a hint of gratitude.

When they first met, Li Chi had spoken very correctly. During the great calamity, he too was affected by the chaos of spiritual essence, losing six-tenths of his cultivation. As a ghost cultivator, he most feared malevolent qi. Although he hadn’t become a ghost body due to harboring resentment and thus wasn’t like resentful ghosts who had almost no resistance to malevolent qi, after losing the limitation of a physical body, malevolent qi had an even greater effect on ghost bodies.

The means by which he could protect this place during the great calamity, amidst the swarm of resentful locusts, was precisely this method of refining resentment and malevolence for his own use.

As Hou Li had once taught Ding Qin, there were three grades of methods for wielding techniques in the world. Superior methods comprehended the principles of heaven and earth, could perceive spiritual essence, and could cast techniques by drawing upon spiritual essence. During this time of chaotic spiritual essence, though affected, because one had already comprehended the principles, one could still wield techniques freely. It was like a person skilled in painting who suddenly changed to unfamiliar brush, ink, and paper—though they would be affected by the unfamiliarity, they could still produce good work.

Inferior methods involved forcibly using magical power to push things to change. Though crude, because they didn’t need to employ spiritual essence, they weren’t much affected by the chaos of spiritual essence.

Among middle-grade methods, those techniques that could perceive and needed to employ heaven and earth’s spiritual essence had been rendered mostly useless during this chaos of spiritual essence.

The power of resentment and malevolence was fierce and brutal, unfavorable for cultivating righteous methods, yet it was a power that could employ inferior methods. It came easily and was powerfully strong—during this great calamity, it had become a viable option.

The precept-keeping method that Marquis Wu mastered was a special divine power outside of techniques, unaffected by heaven and earth’s spiritual essence. However, the power of the precept-keeping method was too difficult to cultivate and its application was limited. To rely on the power of the precept-keeping method to protect such a vast area was almost impossible. Therefore, when he happened to obtain that method of refining and collecting malevolent qi for his own use, he immediately put it to work.

Beneath this great hall dwelt countless resentful ghosts. In this Marquis Wu’s Temple, every entity receiving offerings was a ghost. Among these resentful ghosts, some directed their resentment at him—such as the innocent people who died in plague and fire when he coerced the local people into making offerings to him. Others directed their resentment at different people—such as the other end of the karmic threads entangling the three people, Han, Liu, and Ding, who had come to apologize before the temple three days ago.

Marquis Wu collected and refined them, and they became his power, used to protect this land. Because what he wielded was precisely resentment and malevolence, the resentment and malevolence carried by those locusts naturally couldn’t affect him—when the locusts passed through, he had even absorbed quite a bit of resentment and malevolence from them. If not for avoiding conflict with the Locust King, the power on those locusts would have been his best source of power.

The resentment and malevolence on the locusts was rootless—he could use it without impediment. But the resentment and malevolence on these ghosts in the hall was not like that.

Those resentments all had sources. If he wanted to bear and utilize this resentment and malevolence without being affected in his consciousness, he needed other means.

Like that white-faced evil god who disguised himself as a boatman, forcibly controlling and enslaving those resentful ghosts was indeed one method, but that wasn’t a means Marquis Wu would employ. If he could use such base methods, he wouldn’t have cultivated the precept-keeping method.

The means by which Marquis Wu preserved his clear consciousness amidst the resentment and malevolence was to rely on the power of the precept-keeping method.

[Grant me your power, and for the suffering you have endured, I shall make them pay threefold.]

This was the precept covenant that Marquis Wu had established with those resentful ghosts.

For this reason, Marquis Wu would certainly not let the three—Han, Liu, and Ding—go. The resentful ghosts created by their evil deeds had only recently taken residence in Marquis Wu’s Temple. Also for this reason, the Marquis Wu statue was covered in bitter dust, and he constantly drank wine to ease his suffering.

Those resentful ghosts who died in plague and fire were precisely seeking compensation from him. Their resentment came toward him, and the power they could provide him was also the greatest.

He had caused their deaths, yet wouldn’t let them be released to reincarnate anew, and he had to use their power—how could he not let them vent their anger?

Protecting a region during disaster and calamity, sparing all beings from suffering, was good cause and good karma that would yield good results. But good and evil cause and effect could not cancel each other out—that was not the principle by which worldly cause and effect operated.

The sin of killing one person on East Street could not be offset by the good deed of saving one household on West Street. The sin of killing would inevitably bear evil fruit, and the good of saving would also bear another good fruit. Each cause ripened its own fruit, with no mutual cancellation.

Marquis Wu forcibly detained resentful ghosts and absorbed the power of resentment and malevolence. These causes would also inevitably bear fruit. They transformed into the constant pain he had to ease with strong wine, transformed into the dark dust covering his body that couldn’t be blown away or wiped off. As long as he continued to act this way, this dust would continue to accumulate until one day it completely annihilated his very being.