Inside the Scene and Outside the Scene

"Is this how your Buddhist sect interprets peace and tranquility?" Li Yingling couldn't help but remark as he took in the scene before him.

The sky was a murky gray tinged with dark red, the earth stained with unending pools of blood, a desolate wasteland where the stench of iron hung thick in the air.

Pale severed heads dangled from the branches of a few withered trees.

Faint, ghostly wails drifted from a nearby village.

Yuan Kong shot Li Yingling a puzzled glance, then took a deep breath before exhaling slowly, his tone equally confused:

"It's wonderful here—lush mountains and clear waters."

As he spoke, he pointed at the skeletal tree adorned with hanging heads and said,

"Look how happily those children are playing on the swings."

Li Yingling: "..."

Chu Xingchen reached out and placed a hand on Li Yingling's shoulder:

"Don’t rush. The world he sees isn’t the same as ours. This must be why the scriptures say only a Buddha’s Child can unravel it."

"Otherwise, a mere seal wouldn’t require a Buddha’s Child specifically."

Yuan Kong seemed to realize something and turned to Chu Xingchen, asking,

"Does the scene look different to you?"

Chu Xingchen nodded slightly. "Quite different. But since it’s said only a Buddha’s Child can solve this, you should go ahead and try."

Reassured, Yuan Kong’s face brightened with confidence—of course, he was useful.

He stepped toward the tree with the hanging heads, Chu Xingchen and Li Yingling following close behind.

Yuan Kong stopped beneath the tree, clasped his hands in prayer, and bowed slightly. "Honored souls, may I ask the name of this place?"

The dangling heads abruptly tilted their gazes downward, glaring at the bowing monk.

"Call your mother! Call your mother!" they shrieked in unison.

Chu Xingchen and Li Yingling frowned slightly at the vulgar response.

Yuan Kong, however, nodded gratefully. "Thank you for your guidance. May good fortune follow you."

The heads howled, "Good your mother! Good your mother!"

"May I ask how many people reside here?"

"Kill your whole family! Kill your whole family!"

"Oh... Then who would be the right person to ask for information?"

"Hang your head! Hang your head!"

Chu Xingchen listened to this bizarre exchange in silence, watching as Yuan Kong bowed again, looking thoroughly satisfied.

Yuan Kong turned and explained, "This place is called Peach Blossom Village. There’s an inn here, and the owner is well-informed. We can ask him."

"Like I told you, this is a Buddha’s paradise—peaceful and harmonious."

Chu Xingchen nodded in agreement, patting Yuan Kong’s shoulder.

"We’ll be counting on you this time."

"Leave it to me."

Yuan Kong strode confidently toward Peach Blossom Village.

The entrance wasn’t far.

With Yuan Kong leading the way, they stepped into the village.

A cluster of dilapidated yellow mud houses stood in ruin, each adorned with white funeral lanterns and mourning scrolls.

The courtyard walls had crumbled, revealing piles of bleached bones within.

Moans and sobs echoed from inside the houses.

Li Yingling’s hand instinctively drifted toward the sword at his waist, his gaze sharp with vigilance.

Yuan Kong, however, looked around with serene contentment.

Chu Xingchen strolled lazily, his eyes wandering idly.

"Look, that must be the inn up ahead," Yuan Kong said, pointing at a ramshackle building.

Li Yingling glanced over and saw rows of coffins lined up inside the decrepit structure—less an inn, more a funeral hall.

Around one coffin stood half-burned incense sticks and a few small stools...

Were they using coffins as tables?

Yuan Kong quickened his pace and entered the "inn," his eyes landing on the inverted, rotting corpse of a middle-aged man dressed in burial robes.

He bowed and asked, "Honorable proprietor, is there a Buddhist temple nearby?"

The corpse’s muffled voice rasped from its swollen throat:

"Cut off your head for wine..."

"None? What about Buddha statues? Or Guanyin statues?"

"Lie in the coffin! Lie in the coffin!"

Yuan Kong sighed deeply, his expression troubled.

"I’m a monk—I don’t eat meat. Could you serve something vegetarian?"

"Rip out your heart! Rip out your liver!"

"Many thanks. Then later, you must explain things clearly to me." Yuan Kong smiled warmly, bowing again before motioning for Chu Xingchen and Li Yingling to take their seats.

He found a nearby coffin, sat on a stool, and casually rested his arm on the coffin lid.

Suppressing a sigh, Chu Xingchen sat across from him, while Li Yingling took the spot beside his master.

Yuan Kong vigorously wiped the coffin with his sleeve and remarked,

"Rare to see such a long, rectangular table. Impressive length."

Chu Xingchen nodded. "Indeed... quite unconventional."

Yuan Kong glanced back at the hanging innkeeper, then leaned in and whispered,

"This owner is ruthless—won’t give information unless we eat. Do you have enough money?"

Chu Xingchen’s expression was unreadable.

"I have enough, but I doubt he wants money."

Yuan Kong blinked in confusion. "If not money, then what?"

Li Yingling eyed the freshly polished coffin before them and ventured,

"Your heart, liver, and maybe your head?"

Yuan Kong laughed. "Hah! The owner might be a bit greedy, but this isn’t a shady establishment. He seems decent—just fond of money."

Li Yingling looked up again at the bloated, purple-faced corpse, its tongue lolling and eyes bulging nearly out of their sockets.

He really couldn’t see the "decency" in that.

Behind the hanging innkeeper, the funeral drape was pushed aside.

A skeletal, half-rotten waiter limped forward, carrying a bowl of writhing, plump maggots mixed with dark-red clots of congealed blood.

He slammed the dish onto the coffin-table.

The waiter’s guttural voice snarled, "Eat and die! Eat and die!"

With that, he drew a rusted, bloodstained cleaver and raised it high, poised to strike Yuan Kong’s head.

Li Yingling glanced at his master, who remained utterly unfazed, and steadied himself.

Yuan Kong peered at the dish and sighed pitifully.

"I may not eat meat, but that doesn’t mean I can handle something this spicy."

The waiter brandished the cleaver. "Don’t eat and die! Don’t eat and die!"

"You said it wasn’t spicy..." Yuan Kong picked up an incense stick from the burner and used it as chopsticks, pinching a squirming maggot.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself to swallow it.

Chu Xingchen reached out, stopping Yuan Kong’s hand. His cold gaze fixed on the cleaver-wielding waiter.

With a sneer, he uttered flatly:

"Eat your mother."