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墨書 Inktalez
The letters from Qi Xiaomian arrived almost daily, a thin one addressed to Huo Qi and a thick stack meant for Sang Qingxiao. Every time Huo Qi saw them, he couldn't help but respond with sarcasm; his tone was enough to make anyone cringe.
Typically, family letters are filled with good news rather than bad, but Qi Xiaomian's correspondence was detailed and thorough, which made Sang Qingxiao feel valued, trusted, and respected. One key point in the letters was that the Third Prince was intentionally delaying their progress. Just five days after leaving the capital, he fell seriously ill and held back the entire convoy.
Qi Xiaomian and Shi Yuan worked together to expose his feigned illness. After much effort, they finally managed to increase their pace, only for the Third Prince to get embroiled in a brawl and willingly languish in prison for several days. At this point, it was clear to everyone that he had ulterior motives.
Qi Xiaomian was not easily deterred by such minor setbacks. Using strong measures, she confined the Third Prince and accelerated their journey significantly. In her latest letter, she mentioned that they would soon arrive in Yingzhou.
Huo Qi listened with indignation. The Great Jing Dynasty was doomed! With these incompetent fools who couldn't even scheme properly, how could they handle the court's intrigues? He feared that his son would end up being the scapegoat.
Sang Qingxiao countered that while they might not be adept at scheming, Qi Xiaomian certainly was. It seemed likely that this trip would result in yet another prince being discarded. Thus, it was said that there was no one to succeed; their fate was sealed.
Huo Qi rolled his eyes and probed, "What do you think about my son taking a seat on the throne?"
"Is it really worth it to be an emperor? Think about your past monarchs. Would you want Qi Xiaomian or her descendants to end up like that?"
As they were discussing this, Old Vine approached, dragging himself in exhaustion.
"Did you find something?" Sang Qingxiao asked.
It seemed so. Old Vine tossed a tattered scroll onto the table. Sang Qingxiao glanced at it but found nothing recognizable—just a mess of symbols.
Huo Qi examined it closely. "Western Shu Esoteric Buddhism? That existed in my time—a very sinister yet devout Buddhist cult."
Back then, many believed in their twisted doctrines, which posed a threat to national stability. I couldn't just stand by and watch.
Since it was Buddhism, I had my reservations due to the bloodshed involved; thus, I didn't eradicate them completely but merely drove them into more remote areas.
"How is it possible that they have resurfaced after hundreds of years?"
Old Vine responded to this question by producing several more scrolls. "They didn't resurface; they were already exterminated. As for who did it, I couldn't find any records. However, when discovered, the monks had already turned to skeletons."
Because there were many believers at the time, people assumed there were numerous offerings. When they first discovered it, many sought out those offerings but found nothing at all.
Sang Qingxiao asked, "Since they have been wiped out, what does Western Shu Esoteric Buddhism have to do with Yuanhui?"
Old Vine flipped through a few pages of the scroll and pointed out something to both of them: "This is a record from a high monk of Vajrayana from that time."
The records state that those recognized by the Deities as High Monks are granted a completely black Muyu, which glimmers with a blood-red hue when exposed to light. This Muyu is a rare Dharmabell.
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