Chapter 153: The Golden Buddha

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"
"The glory of eradicating the bandits depends on this single battle!"
"Charge forward, all of you! Anyone who retreats half a step will be beheaded!"
"Thump... thump... thump..."

At the foot of Naizi Mountain, the roar of battle drums shook the heavens. Countless battle flags fluttered like clouds hanging from the sky, snapping in the mountain wind and blanketing the entire valley.

Countless Song dynasty soldiers, wearing red-tasseled Fanyang hats and armed with various weapons, pushed arrow-blocking carts or held shield walls as they charged upward from the base toward the bandit stronghold.

The mountain paths of Naizi Mountain were narrow, and the Song forces were waging an uphill assault, making their progress extremely sluggish. Soldiers were continually struck by arrows, uttering strings of miserable screams before tumbling down into the deep valley.

"Archers, form ranks!" an iron-clad Song general roared, drawing his blade.

Squads of Song archers and crossbowmen, bearing quivers on their backs and holding bows in hand, surged forward. Under the cover of swordsmen and shield-bearers, they gathered in front of the stronghold, raised their bows, and fired upward.

The bandits of Naizi Mountain fought back with bows, flying stones, and javelins.

The imperial forces were numerous and possessed sharper weaponry, while the bandits relied on the geographical advantage, offering desperate resistance from their commanding heights. The two sides clashed fiercely, locked in a brutal and desperate struggle.

Unlike previous encounters—where they would touch and immediately retreat—the imperial troops today were gritting their teeth to fight to the death, seemingly under strict orders that the bandit stronghold must be taken at all costs.

At that moment, the Naizi Mountain stronghold was filled with the deafening thunder of drums and a blinding rain of arrows. The roars of both sides echoed like thunder as they slaughtered one another, leaving the mountain slopes littered with corpses.

Naizi Mountain, once picturesque and tranquil, was instantly transformed into a Shura hell.

...

Behind Naizi Mountain, at the cliff known as "Ghost's Dread."

"Judge Huang has issued the order: take the bandit stronghold, and the reward is five hundred strings of cash, twenty bolts of cloth, and five bolts of silk!"

Amidst the biting mountain wind, Song assault commander Zhang Kan raised his blade and roared, "All of you, follow me up!"

With that, Zhang Kan swung a flying grapple, hooked the vines clinging to the opposite cliff, let out a mighty roar, and swung across to the far side first.

Heavy rewards breed brave men! Eighty elite death-defying soldiers, carefully selected by Huang Huan, threw out their flying grapples, iron hooks, and ropes, closely following Zhang Kan as they scaled the opposite cliff.

The cliff was sheer, offering almost no foothold. Gusts of mountain wind howled, and soldiers continually plummeted into the bottomless abyss, emitting one harrowing scream after another.

Even so, despite the terrifying perils of "Ghost's Dread" and its seemingly impassable nature, the majority of the death-defying soldiers successfully crossed over and crept toward the bandit stronghold.

Moments later, towering flames erupted from the rear of the Naizi Mountain bandit stronghold. Amidst the raging fire, countless agile figures darted back and forth through the camp, throwing the stronghold into utter chaos. Shouts, curses, pleas, and cries echoed through the heavens.

...

The battle around Naizi Mountain was raging fiercely. The commotion could be heard from miles away, the thunderous beat of war drums shook the skies, and billowing plumes of thick smoke rose into the air, visible from ten miles off.

"Alas..." Mounted on a fast horse, Li Sanjian looked back, let out a long sigh, and turned his horse's head with complex emotions. Identifying his direction, he whipped his steed and galloped away.

Though the bandits of Naizi Mountain were heinous criminals who provoked bitter hatred, not every single one of them was a vicious villain. Among them were ordinary folk, and even impoverished people from poor families who had been driven to join the outlaws simply because they could no longer survive.

While the bandits were undeniably hateful, such ruthless slaughter filled Li Sanjian's heart with unbearable grief.

Under the system where scholar-officials governed the realm alongside the emperor, punishments did not extend to the scholar-officials. Song laws appeared relatively lenient, but this applied only to the literati class, the imperial clan, and royal relatives. For ordinary commoners, the Song penal code was exceptionally harsh, especially concerning bandits and thieves. Punishments were severe, often resulting in beheading, confiscation of property, exposure of the corpse in the marketplace, or even *lingchi*—a terrifying and bloody form of execution. If captured, what kind of fate could mountain bandits like those of Naizi Mountain possibly expect?

Yet what could Li Sanjian do? What could he possibly change?

The imperial forces' ability to smoothly breach the bandit stronghold was largely due to Li Sanjian himself, which only made his state of mind even more complex and conflicted. He could not tell whether he should feel joyful or remorseful.

...

Outside the city walls of Bianjing, the Eastern Capital of the Song Dynasty, stood a nunnery.

This nunnery was one of the largest Buddhist convents in Bianjing, occupying about five *qing* of official farmland, and was known as the Nunnery of the Pure Maiden.

The Nunnery of the Pure Maiden was grand and majestic, towering amidst lush woods. Spiritual energy permeated the clear air, and the tolling of temple bells echoed across the wilderness.

The main hall of the nunnery was three stories high and housed various Buddha statues, accompanied by dozens of meditation rooms. It was populated primarily by Buddhist nuns, numbering over a hundred.

A steady stream of pious men and women came to the Nunnery of the Pure Maiden to burn incense and worship the Buddha, among them numerous princes, high ministers, royal relatives, and aristocratic clansmen.

Truth be told, burning incense and worshipping the Buddha while occasionally catching a glimpse of youthful, attractive nuns was far more pleasing to the eyes than looking at bulky, crude monks!

"May the Buddha bless me; if my wish is fulfilled, I shall regild your golden body and offer generous incense," prayed a person clad in the ordinary official robes of a Song commandery prince, holding several sticks of incense as he silently addressed a Buddha statue inside one of the grand halls.

"Your Highness, Cai Xiuxo, the son of the Secretariat Director, is waiting outside the hall," a trusted confidant and advisor whispered to the prince.

"Did the Secretariat Director not come?" the prince asked with a trace of disappointment.

The advisor nodded.

"Very well, invite him to the side chamber; I shall be there shortly. Remember, you must be thoroughly respectful toward him," the prince instructed after a moment of contemplation.

"As you command," the advisor acknowledged and withdrew to make the arrangements.

The prince then accepted a cup of scented tea handed to him by a nun, took a few sips, massaged his temples, and peered intently ahead as the scene before him grew increasingly blurry.

Lately, his eye affliction had been worsening day by day, especially his right eye, which could barely distinguish objects in the distance. The prince felt an extraordinary agony in his heart; things placed closer were somewhat better, but once they exceeded a distance of one foot, everything became hazy.

The prince had spent a fortune inviting famous physicians from all over, yet his condition showed no improvement; instead, it grew steadily worse.

As time went on, would he go completely blind? The prince felt an overwhelming sense of dread.

Before his vision failed entirely, this matter had to be accomplished; only then would there remain a glimmer of survival, the prince resolved in his heart.

...

"Your humble servant, Cai Xiuxo, pays respects to Your Highness. May Your Highness be blessed with boundless fortune and peace," Cai Xiuxo greeted with a bow as he entered the room, catching sight of the prince who squinted with half-closed eyes.

The prince who entered was Zhao Qi, the ninth son of Emperor Shenzong of Song, Zhao Xu. In his youth, he had suffered from a severe infantile convulsion that nearly claimed his life. Although cured by a famous physician later on, it left behind persistent sequelae, of which his eye disease was the most severe.

At present, not only could Zhao Qi not see distant objects clearly, but he also suffered from a slight squint, tilting his head whenever he looked at people or things.

"There is no need for such elaborate formalities, Young Master Fan. Please take a seat, and serve tea," Zhao Qi said with a welcoming smile to Cai Xiuxo.

"Thank you, Your Highness." Cai Xiuxo sat down unassumingly not far from Zhao Qi so that the prince could see him clearly.

How could Cai Xiuxo not know about Zhao Qi's eye condition? If he had sat far away, forcing Zhao Qi to strain awkwardly and exposing his failing sight in the process, wouldn't it have been terribly embarrassing? Wouldn't it have provoked Zhao Qi's shame and resentment?

"Today, this Prince has invited the Young Master here to present a gift to Lord Zhongshu," Zhao Qi stated bluntly.

With that, Zhao Qi gently pushed a tray covered with a red silk cloth toward Cai Xiuxo.

Cai Xiuxo gently lifted the red silk, revealing a golden Buddha statue resting on the tray. It gleamed brilliantly, instantly casting a golden radiance that illuminated the meditation room as brightly as day.

The golden Buddha was exquisitely crafted, with lifelike facial features. Its pupils were of an unusual color—a pale blue—emitting a faint, mystical azure glow within the chamber.

Upon closer inspection, Cai Xiuxo realized that the Buddha's eyes were made of sapphires, indicating that the statue was exceptionally precious and clearly not an artifact of the Central Plains.

Sure enough, Zhao Qi spoke up next: "This is a Buddha statue I acquired at a great cost. It comes from the Western Regions and was personally consecrated and blessed by the esteemed Western Region Master Fan Jing. It is said that this Buddha can ward off evil spirits, dispel pestilence, and bring good fortune and destiny."

"Such a weighty and generous gift from Your Highness is truly more than your servant dares to accept," Cai Xiuxo said, hastily rising from his seat to decline.

The golden Buddha was so precious and exquisitely made that it instantly stirred a desire to possess it—a feeling Cai Xiuxo shared. Nevertheless, he still went through the motions of declining.

"I heard that Lord Zhongshu is fond of Buddhist matters in his daily life, which is why I specially entrusted someone to bring this Buddha back from the Western Regions. Why is the Young Master refusing it now?" Zhao Qi asked, fixing his gaze intently on Cai Xiuxo.

He had long heard that Cai Xiuxo was an extremely greedy man who would pluck a feather from a passing goose. The fact that he was now rejecting such a generous gift caused Zhao Qi a trace of surprise while secretly amusing him.

Since Zhao Qi had already put it that way, how dare Cai Xiuxo actually refuse? Displaying an expression of helpless resignation, as if parting with his very soul, Cai Xiuxo said, "Since Your Highness insists, this servant shall accept it on behalf of my father. I thank Your Highness, though my father and I are filled with overwhelming trepidation."

"Ha-ha! A mere trifle, not worth mentioning. Come, Young Master Fan, please partake in the tea." Seeing that Cai Xiuxo had finally accepted the golden Buddha readily, Zhao Qi burst into a hearty laugh of delight and repeatedly urged him to drink.

With a heavy gift paving the way, both host and guest instantly felt completely at ease. Delighted by each other's company, they conversed freely and without reservation.

After a short while, Cai Xiuxo spoke up: "Your Highness has shown such deep favor to my father and me, leaving us profoundly shaken. As the saying goes, 'You throw a peach to me, I return a plum to you.' I also have a piece of advice to offer Your Highness."

*It's finally coming,* Zhao Qi thought to himself. *It seems he's truly a man who won't scatter the hawk until he sees the rabbit...*

"Please speak your mind, Young Master Fan," Zhao Qi replied with a smile.

Cai Xiuxo glanced around. Seeing that the meditation room was completely empty save for the two of them, he leaned close to Zhao Qi's ear and whispered in a low voice: "Gradually developing into a chronic affliction, which medicines fail to cure..."

"What?" Zhao Qi was startled and asked in an urgent whisper, "Has it truly reached such a stage?"

Cai Xiuxo nodded solemnly.

"Imperial Brother..." Zhao Qi choked up with tears, though whether due to his eye condition or not, it was all thunder without rain—not a single tear fell from his eyes.

At that exact moment, a muffled feminine moan suddenly drifted from the inner chamber, startling the two men out of their wits.

Cai Xiuxo was so frightened that his soul nearly left his body.