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墨書 Inktalez
The monk limped outside, the cold wind howling as it swirled snowflakes in every direction.
"Stop pretending; showing off will bring you trouble. You're still young and naive. Don't you understand this? One must be low-key, low-key, low-key. Do you get it?" The monk, with an air of wisdom, pointed at the Two-Headed Monster Baby lying motionless in the snow, lecturing it as if it were a misbehaving child.
If Two-Headed Monster Baby had any awareness at that moment, hearing the monk's words would surely have made it want to jump out of its grave.
But there it lay, curled up in the snow, standing out starkly against the white backdrop.
The monk wrapped the Two-Headed Monster Baby in a Kasa, piling all the protective talismans and charms he had on top of it.
He placed the Two-Headed Monster Baby beside him and sat cross-legged to meditate. A night of battling had drained his spiritual energy to the point where even a wandering ghost would pose a challenge he could hardly face.
The firewood crackled intermittently, and the flickering flames cast warm, hopeful light on the monk's face.
The next morning, just as dawn began to break, Zhao Heitie got up and hurried to Ling Dajun's house. He wanted to see what had happened during last night’s battle. If the monster had won, he wouldn’t care about the heavy snow blocking the mountains; he would immediately flee with his wife and children. If the monk had triumphed, then everyone would be happy.
However, Zhao Heitie was puzzled. According to what the monk had said, last night should have been chaotic and dark. Why hadn’t he heard anything other than the howling wind throughout the night?
He had followed the monk's instructions and broken the ice in the village stream before midnight to let the water flow again. He hoped he hadn’t wasted his efforts for nothing.
It wasn’t until he saw the monk by the fire that Zhao Heitie’s anxious heart finally settled. With a fawning smile, he greeted him, “Master, your powers are truly profound! Even such a fierce Gui Wu could be subdued; you must be a reincarnation of a Bodhisattva, blessed by Buddha.”
The monk slowly opened his eyes and pressed down on Zhao Heitie, who was flattering him. His gaze drifted behind Zhao Heitie, revealing his disappointment clearly on his face. “Where’s breakfast? I thought you were clever, Village Chief. I’ve fought with this Evil Spirit all night long and am completely exhausted now; I’m starving! How could you not bring me breakfast?”
The village chief’s face turned bright red as he quickly replied, “Master, how could you say that? I’ll go prepare it right away! I was worried about your safety, which is why I rushed over here; breakfast was ready early this morning.”
With that, he turned and hurried back to fetch breakfast, moving so quickly that he nearly bounced with each step.
The monk lowered his gaze to the side, where the Two-Headed Monster Baby lay sleeping soundly, drool trickling from both corners of its mouth. Its soft, pink hands were clenched into tiny fists, just like any normal baby.
The monk was lost in thought, unaware of when Ling Dajun had woken up. Suddenly, with a thud, Ling Dajun knelt before him, bowing his head in supplication. "Master, I beg you to show mercy. Please spare my son. He has just been born. I will teach him well, instilling in him the principles of being a good person. Although I am just a farmer, I have never done anything wrong in my life. I promise to raise him right and not let him go astray. Please, Master."
"Amitabha," the monk sighed, raising his hand to stop Ling Dajun's bowing.
"It is not that the Poor Monk is unwilling to spare this child; it is simply that Jiang Shan is easy to change, but one's nature is hard to alter. If you were to keep him, do you know how many people would die because of him? He is not an ordinary child; within him resides a demon, and you should know this better than I."
The monk's peripheral vision caught sight of the dark brown Gan Shi in the corner of the room.
Ling Dajun looked as if struck by lightning, his eyes vacant as he collapsed onto the ground, murmuring, "Do I have to watch my own son die? I can't do it... I can't..."
Crying, Ling Dajun grasped the monk's robe and pleaded, "If someone must die, then let it be me. Take my life in exchange for my son's. Aren't those who renounce the world supposed to have compassion? Please, kill me and spare my son..."
"Mm... mm..."
The loud cries of the baby echoed through the room, seemingly responding to Ling Dajun's sorrow.
Startled, the monk quickly cradled the Two-Headed Monster Baby in his arms. A glimmer of Buddhist light filled his eyes as he clearly saw deep within the baby's consciousness a swirling image of Dragon and Phoenix Presenting Auspiciousness, surrounded by a mass of dark, inky energy.
Looking into the baby's mind revealed a chaotic void—just like any other newborn. Could it be that this Two-Headed Monster Baby was already human?
At that moment, one of the heads remained closed-eyed and breathless, devoid of independent thought; it merely resembled a head like any other limb.
Breaking his internal contemplation, the monk urgently asked, "Were both heads of this child alive earlier?"
Ling Dajun was startled by the sudden question and nodded numbly. "Yes. But they are different; one is gentler while the other has a more sinister nature. They keep switching back and forth; I'm not quite sure."
"Also," Ling Dajun added, "this child has only cried once since birth; today marks his second cry."
The monk furrowed his brow, seemingly uncomfortable as the child in his arms squirmed, gazing up at him with bright eyes and a wide smile. The chubby little hands reached out from the swaddling, as if wanting to touch the monk's bald head. Perhaps in the child's eyes, this round, shiny head resembled a boiled egg or a ball?
Pouting slightly, the monk gently teased the infant, who responded with giggles. Suddenly, he recalled his master’s words before passing: Good and evil exist in a single thought.
Thus, the monk made a decision; he wanted to keep this child.
"I have a connection with this child and wish to take him as my disciple. What do you think?" the monk asked Ling Dajun.
Ling Dajun first wore a look of shock, then joyfully exclaimed, "Is that true, Master?"
The monk replied, "A monk does not speak falsehoods."
Ling Dajun's expression shifted to one of concern as he asked, "Will my son still be able to marry in the future? He is the sole heir of our Ling Family..."
The monk inwardly scoffed at the thought. With your son already grown into this state, which girl would be foolish enough to marry him?
However, he maintained a serious tone and said, "He will merely be a registered disciple; it won’t affect anything."
Ling Dajun was overjoyed and repeatedly expressed his gratitude. Finally, he hesitantly asked, "So will you take my son away?"
The monk glanced at Ling Dajun. This farmer appeared to be in his thirties, his dark face marked by deep fatigue.
"Not for now. I will come to fetch him when he turns nine."
Ling Dajun expressed his thanks once more. After calming him down with great effort, the monk instructed, "You wait outside. Since your son is now my disciple, I shall grant him a blessing as a meeting gift."
With gratitude shining in his eyes, Ling Dajun walked to the door to keep watch, resembling a guardian deity from a traditional painting.
The monk placed the Two-Headed Monster Baby on the bed and unwrapped all the clothing from the infant's body, revealing its chubby form. The baby was sucking on its fingers, drooling everywhere.
The monk, with a mischievous glint in his eye, gently tapped the baby's little appendage, nodding in satisfaction. "This will do just fine."
The baby, unbothered by the monk's antics, looked on with curious eyes, occasionally giggling.
The monk pulled a dagger from his robe, its hilt adorned with an image of the Buddha, cast in a dark blue hue that suggested it had seen many years.
He unsheathed the blade, revealing its sharp edge that gleamed coldly in the light.
The Two-Headed Monster Baby seemed to sense that something was amiss; it pouted and looked up at the monk with big, teary eyes.
The monk patted the baby's belly and spoke softly, "Be good now. Master is going to perform a little operation for you so that you can marry a nice wife in the future. How does that sound?"
Perhaps he had tickled a sensitive spot, as the baby's chubby legs kicked up playfully while it giggled.
Chanting a mantra under his breath, the monk raised the dagger and brought it down swiftly. A flash of cold light flickered, and soon the second head of the Two-Headed Monster Baby was severed cleanly from its neck.
Strangely enough, aside from a scar at the wound site, only a few drops of crimson blood oozed out.
The monk then produced a talisman, flicking it between his fingers until it ignited spontaneously. As the talisman burned away to ash, he gathered the remnants and applied them to the baby's wound. In no time, the injury began to heal.
Meanwhile, the severed head rolled away and shriveled at an eerie pace until it resembled a small black ball about the size of a fist.
With care, the monk placed the head into a box and set it beside Li Juying's corpse. He recited the Amitabha Sutra several times before allowing Ling Dajun and Zhao Heitie, who had come to deliver food, to enter the room.
"Ling Dajun," he said between slurps of noodles, "make sure to bury your wife along with that box when the time comes."
Ling Dajun approached the cradle and gazed at his sleeping son, warmth flooding his heart as tears welled in his eyes. But suddenly he froze—where was that other head?
With a trembling voice, he asked, "Master?"
The monk finished the last spoonful of soup, letting out a satisfied burp. "As a Poor Monk, my standards for accepting disciples are quite high. If I were to take in a two-headed monster, I would be ridiculed by the Jianghu people. So, this is the fate I bestow upon my disciple."
"Moreover, once a teacher, always a father. If this child clings to me and I don't let him marry, wouldn't I be blamed for it?"
With his hands clasped behind his back, the monk executed the Dragonfly Skimming Lightness Technique and gracefully vanished into the vast expanse of white snow. He left without a trace, concealing his achievements and name.
His disciples were left behind with mouths agape, as if they could fit an egg inside.
...
...
"I will return in nine years."
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