A Pawn's Passage

Aobozu gazed at Sage Qingwei’s expression with his only eye, but all he saw was a calm face, utterly undisturbed.

The demon monk had no choice but to ask, “Sage, are you not curious as to why I transformed into a yokai?”

Sage Qingwei replied with a question of his own, “Is your transformation into a yokai the so-called secret of Fenglin?”

Aobozu said, “That is only a very small part of it.”

“There’s more?” Sage Qingwei asked.

Aobozu explained, “There is a rule in the mortal realm that those who are too powerful—whether Immortals or divine beings—cannot remain here for long. They are limited to a hundred-year stay. Unless they use divine power to construct a divine kingdom and hide within it, they will eventually be bound to this rule. But even then, after that hundred-year term, they cannot easily leave their divine kingdom and become no different from mountain gods. However, Fenglin seems to be an exception. Many beings—humans or yokai—who have long surpassed the century mark still roam the mortal world, like the great yokai Tamamo-no-Mae and the Yamata-no-Orochi.

“With the Daoist Order’s formidable power and its nominal rule over Fenglin for nearly a century, surely you’ve encountered many bizarre and inexplicable phenomena. Fenglin seems to be a murky and obscure realm where humans and yokai coexist. Humans operate during the day, while the yokai appear at night.

“A place that appears desolate by day turns bustling at night, lanterns aglow as yokai emerge en masse. It’s as lively as Yoshiwara in Xiujing. Meanwhile, in the Heian Capital, entire streets become deserted when night falls. That’s when countless bizarre yokai parade in procession like a temple fair, what the locals call the Hyakki Yagyo, the Night Parade of One Hundred Demons. It’s said that those who witness it with their own eyes will fall victim to a curse and die mysteriously.

“There’s also the mysterious Ise Province. I’ve visited recently and found yin energy blanketing the area. If there aren’t enough living humans there, the endless yin energy and resentment will corrode the land and turn people into monsters. The dead, unable to ascend to the heavens or return to the earth, are driven by this yin energy to reanimate their corpses as vengeful spirits. Even when the God of Slaughter in the Central Plains buried 400,000 surrendered soldiers alive, it didn’t generate such overwhelming yin energy and resentment. Where did all of this originate? What do Takamagahara, Ashihara-no-Nakatsukuni, and Yomi-no-Kuni truly represent?

“I believe the Daoist Order must have some understanding and research into these matters, but I’m also certain there’s still much the Order does not yet grasp. Even Sekishusai, who was born and raised here, would not know more about this than I do.”

This time, Sage Qingwei truly smiled. The upward curvature was no longer just an illusion. “Very well. I’m most intrigued. As long as you can enlighten me, the Daoist Order will fulfill any reasonable request you have. Let’s find a quieter place to speak.”

Aobozu bowed with his palms together. “The Buddha speaks of Eight Sufferings: birth, aging, illness, death, meeting those we hate, parting from those we love, unfulfilled desires, and the flourishing of the five aggregates. All mortals suffer these trials. I sought to deliver the world, yet the world remains lost in earthly desires that corrode humanity. All things prove to be empty in the end. Only karma endures, cycling again and again. I often tell the world that if the heart does not waver, there is neither suffering nor pain. All phenomena are illusory, like dreams and shadows. He who saves me is the merciful Buddha. Enter the gate of Buddha, pursue virtue sincerely, know what I know, attain what I attain, and ask for nothing. Abandon anger and ignorance, shun lust and greed. Only then may you attain true bliss.”

......

After meeting with Aobozu, Zhang Yuelu returned to the Xiujing field camp. She did not accompany the main army into battle but remained buried in administrative paperwork.

In truth, this should have been Li Changge’s responsibility. But Li Changge was currently under investigation and suspended from duties.

To her left sat a classified file provided by the Fenglin Daoist Mansion, along with her own scribbled notes. To her right were various historical records supplied by the Chancellor’s Office.

At this moment, Zhang Yuelu was skimming through the file, her eyes scanning ten lines at once.

Even during the Daoist Order’s very first entry into Fenglin, there had already been awareness of certain issues.

The very first Great Sage to head the Fenglin Daoist Mansion had once proposed to the Golden Tower Council that they abandon Fenglin, citing significant unknown dangers. As for what exactly those dangers were, the Great Sage had spoken ambiguously and left no clear explanation.

The original documents were not in the Fenglin Daoist Mansion’s possession and were likely archived in the Golden Tower. But since they dated back over a century, they had probably already been declassified. However, digging them out again would be an enormous hassle.

At the time, the Golden Tower Council had made a compromise not to substantively occupy or govern Fenglin, but to leave it under the governance of Chancellor Toyotomi’s Office. The Daoist Order would interfere as little as possible, ensuring that they could withdraw from Fenglin at any time. They were permitted only a limited scope of decision-making, primarily in commerce, and only under favorable conditions.

A hundred years had passed in the blink of an eye, and many had already forgotten the original decision. The language back then had been so vague that later generations no longer understood the rationale behind it. Thus, the current war in Fenglin was in fact a violation of an ancestral edict.

Zhang Yuelu did not fully understand the meaning behind that ancient decision. Only after cross-referencing classified documents from both the Fenglin Daoist Mansion and the Chancellor’s Office did she gradually arrive at a vague hypothesis.

Ordinarily, these top-secret records were buried deep in dusty vaults, heavily guarded and rarely touched. Not even the Great Sage of the Fenglin Daoist Mansion, let alone any common deacon, would dare lay a hand on them.

The only reason Zhang Yuelu dared request these documents was because of her earlier conversation with Aobozu.

To retrieve these documents, she had personally requested Sage Qingwei’s approval. With his involvement, both the Fenglin Daoist Mansion and the Chancellor’s Office were contacted, and even then, it had taken them considerable effort to produce the files. Had it been left to Zhang Yuelu alone, it would have been utterly impossible.

Zhang Yuelu turned another page.

“The Mountain of Eternal Life, also known as Mount Fuyo, lies in Fenglin. In ancient times, a Daoist Diviner was dispatched by the First Emperor to seek the elixir of immortality overseas. He once visited this very place, only to vanish thereafter. Some rumors claim that this Diviner Xu became the ancestor of the Wa people, though this remains unverifiable.”

Zhang Yuelu wrote down “Mount Fuyo” in her notebook, then opened the related records from the Chancellor’s Office.

“In the sixth month of the 19th year of Enryaku, Suruga Province reported that from March 14 to April 18 of the previous year, the summit of Mount Fuyo was ablaze. During the day, smoke darkened the skies. At night, firelight illuminated the heavens. The inferno crackled like thunder, ash fell like rain, and the rivers and streams at the foot of the mountain all turned red.

“In the 21st year of Enryaku, The Chronicle of Fenglin recorded that based on reports from Suruga and Sagami Provinces, Mount Fuyo in Suruga Province burned continuously day and night, gravel scattering like mist. Divination revealed omens of a thousand plagues, so both provinces were instructed to increase pacification offerings and recite scriptures to repel disaster. In May, the Ashigara Road in Sagami Province was abandoned, and the Ryoka route opened, as the road was blocked by gravel from Mount Fuyo’s flames.

“On May 25th, during the sixth year of the Zhenguan Era, Suruga Province reported that a great fire broke out on Mount Asama, Fuyo District. The blaze was fierce, consuming an area of 100 kilometers, with flames rising over 60 meters high, roaring like thunder. Three earthquakes occurred, and the fire lasted more than 10 days without extinguishing. Charred cliffs collapsed, stones and sand rained down, and the smoke and clouds lingered, making it impossible to approach. Northwest of the mountain was Lake Motosu, where burned rocks flowed more than 150 kilometers. The fire eventually reached Kai Province.

“On the 17th, Kai Province reported that Mount Fuyo in Suruga suddenly erupted in a violent blaze, shattering ridges, scorching vegetation, causing landslides and rock flows that buried Motosu and two nearby lakes in Yatsushiro District. The waters boiled like soup, killing all fish and aquatic life. The homes of commoners were buried along with the sea, and many homes stood empty—the number uncountable. To the east of the two lakes lay another water body, called Lake Kawaguchi. Before the lakes were engulfed by flames, the ground trembled violently, thunder and lightning raged, torrential rains fell, and mist shrouded everything, making mountains and fields indistinguishable.

“In the second month after this fire, the Fenglin Court issued an edict of pacification and appeasement. There were no more calamities afterward.”

Zhang Yuelu continued writing notes. “Four great fires, with ash nearly covering the entire Kanto region, caused countless casualties. It was after this that the phenomenon of the Hyakki Yagyo began.”

At this point, Zhang Yuelu paused slightly and added a small annotation. “Did the fires cause the Night Parade of One Hundred Demons? Or did the immense casualties give rise to it? Or are both indispensable causes? This remains a point of doubt. Additionally, the so-called pacification and sacrificial rituals were led by the Ise-jingu, the former shogunate, and the Fenglin Court represented by the imperial family. The Toyotomi government rose too late, and the Toyotomi clan was of commoner origin, so no detailed records exist in this regard, making the specifics ambiguous.”

Zhang Yuelu leaned back in her chair and murmured to herself, “What exactly lies beneath Mount Fuyo?”

No one could answer that question.

Perhaps only after Sage Qingwei had finished his conversation with Aobozu would an answer emerge.

This concerned the entire strategic shift of the current Fenglin campaign.

Now, Zhang Yuelu even believed that the Daoist Order should not have launched the Fenglin campaign so hastily. It was the increasingly fierce internal factionalism and the surging blind arrogance of the younger generation that ultimately led to the outbreak of this war, and the result might evolve in a direction that no one could have foreseen.

Just then, Mu Jin walked in.

Zhang Yuelu put aside the files and notes on the table while asking, “What is it?”

Mu Jin replied, “Sage Qingwei’s secretary sent a message. Deputy Hall Master Tian Yuan has replied—he’s safe and sound.”

Generally speaking, secretaries operated within their own exclusive circle. For example, if two Sages were to meet, their secretaries would first make contact, negotiate a time, and then report back to their respective superiors.

There was a hierarchy within this circle, too. Tang Jiaohua, Gong Jiaojun, and Sage Qingwei’s secretary were considered senior secretaries, while someone like Mu Jin would be considered junior.

However, given Zhang Yuelu’s boundless prospects, Mu Jin, as her secretary, was bound to rise with her boss. Thus, even the senior secretaries were happy to lower themselves and befriend her early, treating it as a way to plant the seeds of goodwill in advance.

After all, whether it was the Three Preceptors or the Three Heirs, they would eventually ascend and depart from the world. The secretaries could not follow them. When that day came, Zhang Yuelu and her peers would preside over the Golden Tower Council, and these junior secretaries would have moved on to take charge on their own.

In officialdom, one must be meticulous in threading the needle. Connections must remain open, and tributes must remain generous. They would, in turn, have to curry favor with these junior secretaries, hoping they would put in a good word or leak some inside information.

Zhang Yuelu asked, “Where’s Tian Yuan now?”

Mu Jin answered, “He’s on his way back to Yoshida Castle.”