Chapter Fifty-Seven: To Eradicate Evil Is to Do Good

In the blink of an eye, the flames consumed the ape, reducing it to ashes. The remnants of the Beast-Taming Sect hidden within cried out in agony, but their voices soon faded, snuffed out entirely. Qingyuan’s expression was stern as he gripped the iron staff tightly and turned to face the newcomer.

The visitor was a monk.

His brows and beard were as white as frost and snow, yet a gentle benevolence suffused his face. His eyes revealed sorrow and hardship, and though his countenance bore traces of wind and frost, not a wrinkle marred his skin, giving him the appearance of an ageless sage with the hair of a crane and the face of a child.

Behind him stood a young novice, delicate-featured and clear-eyed.

“Master!” Gu Cang rushed in.

He had slaughtered all the monsters outside and returned to search for his master, only to find an elderly monk in the cave, reaching behind the master as if to launch a sneak attack.

Without hesitation, he hurled his blade with all his might. Seeing the old monk withdraw his hand, Gu Cang breathed a sigh of relief and swiftly entered the cave, coming to Qingyuan’s side.

Yet Qingyuan’s gaze remained fixed upon the old monk opposite him, his demeanor grave, iron staff clenched tight.

Unfathomable!

He was at least beyond the limits of ordinary men.

A man above men.

A cultivator of the Fourth Heaven.

The Fourth Heaven—each tradition called it differently.

The Confucians named it the Four Virtues: Benevolence, Righteousness, Propriety, Wisdom; the Daoists spoke of Dao, Heaven, Earth, Man; the Buddhists referred to Earth, Water, Fire, Wind, the Four Great Elements.

To enter the mystical gate, to transcend the mundane, was to leave ordinary humanity behind. Thus it was called the Upper Realm, and most called its denizens the Superior Ones.

The Grand Immortal of Purple Heaven believed that at this stage one had shed the common, gained insight into truths unattainable to most, yet the path to the Dao remained long, so one could only gaze from afar and contemplate. Thus, within the June Impure View, these four levels were known as the Hall of Dao Contemplation.

The old monk’s cultivation had at least reached this stage, perhaps even higher.

Qingyuan could not fathom him, and so his heart was heavy.

Outside, seven tiger-wolves had gathered at the cave entrance, having devoured countless wild wolves and grown even fiercer. Another tiger-wolf, caught in the fray, had been destroyed by the other spirit-wrought wolves.

Even so, Qingyuan felt no confidence.

The old monk gazed at the ashes left by the flames, his eyes full of weariness, and sighed, “It is often said that Heaven cherishes life. Benefactor, why must you be so ruthless?”

He looked at Qingyuan, his gaze carrying a subtle meaning.

This young man’s actions were far too severe; perhaps he should be taught the ways of Buddhism.

Qingyuan discerned the implication in his eyes, and his heart tightened, sensing trouble. Yet his expression did not change. With a turn of thought, he suddenly asked, “So the master intended to save him?”

The old monk nodded. “That was indeed my purpose.”

After he spoke, Qingyuan inquired, “Why did the master wish to save him?”

The old monk sighed. “Heaven cherishes life; he too is a living being. This humble monk seeks only to deliver all sentient beings, to do good, to save lives.”

“Then master, you arrived too late.”

Qingyuan gave a low, enigmatic laugh. “He practiced the most sinister arts of the Beast-Taming Sect, feeding on the lives of others to enhance himself. With his cultivation, countless lives have already been claimed. If you wished to save, you should have come sooner. To save him now—is that truly a good deed?”

The old monk replied, “Yet he is still a life. If you spare him, he may yet be reformed.”

“Reformed?” Qingyuan laughed. “If you had saved him, how would you reform him?”

The old monk pressed his palms together, bowed his head, and recited a Buddhist verse. “This humble monk would suppress him, keep him at my side, instruct him constantly in Buddhist teachings, guiding evil to good. If he abandons wickedness and turns to virtue, he may join the Buddhist order or walk the world as he pleases.”

“If he feigns submission, but his evil intent remains, what then? When you release him, he continues his misdeeds. Or perhaps, when you face a formidable foe and are engaged in battle, he seizes the chance to escape?”

Qingyuan raised his brows and pressed, “If he escapes and his heart remains wicked, harming others anew—what then?”

The old monk recited another verse, saying, “I would never allow such a thing. Even if he escapes, I would pursue him.”

“But during your pursuit, the innocents he kills—what of them?”

Qingyuan’s voice rang clear as he pressed, “If I spare him and hand him to you, only for him to escape and do evil again—whose debt is that? His, yours, or mine?”

The old monk was stunned, momentarily speechless.

Seeing this, Qingyuan knew his strategy had struck home and continued, “Perhaps master feels remorse, so you recite scriptures to deliver the souls of the innocents slain, then subdue him as before and take him away once more. Thus your compassion is satisfied? But in my eyes, if he murders again, his sin is his, yours, and mine alike.”

“I have heard that in the Western Buddhist lands, they suppress all manner of evildoers, great monsters and fierce demons, but sometimes the seals are broken and these beings escape, slaughtering countless lives, only to be recaptured and suppressed once more.”

“But if they are not destroyed, the threat remains.”

He stepped forward, speaking loudly, “If, when the demon was first captured, it had been slain, would there have been any later debt?”

The old monk’s brows shifted, and light flickered in his eyes.

“What Buddhist reformation?” Qingyuan demanded. “Even the divine beasts beneath the Buddha’s seat—dragon and elephant—listened to Buddhist teachings for a thousand years, yet when they escaped, they still devoured and wrought evil. Time and again, the Buddhist order suppressed them, but never slew them. At last, when they came to the Middle Land, it was the Daoist Grandmaster who destroyed the Buddhist beast in the empty valley.”

He stepped forward, true energy coursing, and asked, “Even the Buddha’s disciples could not reform them; can master’s teachings reform this man?”

The old monk pressed his palms together. “This humble monk will do his utmost. Since beginning the practice of Buddhist teachings, I have turned many from evil to good. I believe this one is no exception.”

“But there will always be exceptions,” Qingyuan said. “Many speak of compassion, but care only to satisfy their own sense of mercy and virtue, heedless of the consequences their compassion brings.”

“If you bear the heart to kill, slay the monsters, and end the threat—that is true virtue.”

“There is a saying: to eliminate evil is to do good!”

Qingyuan swept his hand, the iron staff across his chest. “Does master still believe I am wrong? Do you wish to seize me and preach the Dharma?”

“To eliminate evil is to do good?” The old monk was silent for a moment. “Is this your belief, benefactor?”

Qingyuan replied coldly, “It is not a belief, merely a natural act.”

The old monk said, “A pity your killing intent is too strong.”

Qingyuan’s brows flickered, his eyes showing an inscrutable meaning.

“He committed great evil, and now fate brought him to me.”

“And I could not abide his wickedness.”

“So I deemed him fit to die.”

“And so I sent him to his death.”

Qingyuan declared proudly, “How is that excessive?”

The old monk said nothing for a time.

Before he could speak, Qingyuan turned his head and commanded, “Let’s go!”

Gu Cang nodded, drew his sword, picked up his spear, and left with Qingyuan.

The old monk remained silent, making no move to stop them.

It was the young novice behind him who looked resentful and aggrieved.

White smoke curled in the cave, the waves of heat not yet dispersed.

Ashes covered the ground.

The rock walls were scorched black.