Fang Henshui silently recited the incantation in his mind while occasionally stealing glances at the old monk who had changed his fate. He didn't know what path he was on now, but he was certain that he was going against all his lifelong dreams, drifting further and further away.
He had once fantasized about becoming an excellent constable, solving countless cases and rising through the ranks, eventually sitting in the position of county magistrate, or even prefect. Perhaps, when his beard was white, he could even become a governor-general!
He had once fantasized about becoming a peerless martial arts master, defending the Sui Dynasty against countless foreign invasions, earning the emperor's admiration and being granted a title and generalship. When his beard was white, he would have filial children and a large group of disciples, holding a leading position in both the martial arts world and the imperial court.
He had once fantasized about marrying a quiet and virtuous lady from a prominent family. Even if he didn't become a crucial figure in the Sui Dynasty, he still wanted to live a happy and fulfilling life. He wanted to stroll hand-in-hand with his wife along the beach, listening to the tides and watching the sunset, enjoying every spring's warmth and blossoming flowers, savoring every sunrise and sunset.
He even imagined that when he died, he wanted his grave erected on the small hill in his hometown, facing the sea.
But all of that was now gone.
After the old monk Zhihui taught him the incantation of the tortoise breathing technique, he closed his eyes and remained silent. Looking at this old man, who wasn't particularly tall, yet exuded a powerful, imposing aura like a mountain before him, he felt no resistance. The old monk said he was injured, but Fang Henshui knew that even an injured old monk could crush him with a single finger.
Buddhism.
The Buddhist sect, despised like dogs by everyone in the Sui Dynasty, and yet he had become a disciple of Buddhism.
Fang Henshui gave a bitter smile, thinking to himself, why was fate so unfair to him? He was just a constable in a remote county on the outskirts of the Sui Dynasty. Even if he had many grand and magnificent dreams, they were just dreams, weren't they? He was an ordinary man, and every ordinary man harbors some unattainable dreams.
He knew that in the end, he would only live a mediocre life, marrying a fisherman's daughter with skin tanned by the sun and roughened by the sea breeze, and a waist as thick as a bucket but strong. He would have several children, who would wait at the door like hungry birds for him to return home from the government office, and when they saw him, they would rush up, laughing and calling him "Daddy."
Why had things turned out this way?
Whom had he offended to suffer such misfortune?
Fang Henshui thought a lot, and then gradually fell into a deep sleep. He was exhausted. The old monk, though thin and short, was also extremely tired from carrying him all the way, and he hadn't eaten for two days. Some of the food he had scavenged from the students had been lost during their escape, and what remained was only what the old monk could enjoy. He could only look at it, not even daring to smell it.
After falling asleep, he began an endless nightmare. He dreamt he was dressed in a grey monk's robe, draped in a golden cassock, walking across the vast grasslands. Herdsmen in strangely shaped clothes worshipped him fervently, offering him their gold, silver, and the most delicious food.
The most beautiful woman prostrated herself at his feet, kissing his toes.
He looked at the herdsmen with smug satisfaction, feeling the grassland wind, so different from the sea breeze. In his dream, he saw the vast grasslands, as magnificent as the sea, but green and boundless. The wind blew through the grass, creating undulating waves. He stood there, basking in everyone's reverence.
Just then, a black tide suddenly rolled in from the eastern horizon. He stared wide-eyed in horror as the black wave surged relentlessly towards him. It trampled the green grass, crushed the herdsmen, blood and flesh everywhere, and screams and cries echoed through the sky.
Those were the heavily armored cavalry of the Sui Dynasty, shattering the tranquility of his dream. Those Sui cavalrymen, clad in black iron armor, reaped the lives of the herdsmen with their sharp lances, like harvesting wheat. They were like black hurricanes, destroying everything in their path. No one could stop their advance; the resounding bugle calls of the Sui army seemed to tear the sky of the grasslands apart.
He too could not stop that mighty army. He dreamt that he was knocked down by a crimson warhorse, the rider holding a long, dripping sword, his cold eyes fixed on him, devoid of any emotion. He wanted to kneel and beg, but the crimson warhorse held him firmly, preventing him from rising. He wanted to say that he too was a Sui person, but he clearly felt that the eyes behind the Sui general's visor could see through everything.
"You are a traitor, a traitor to the Sui Dynasty, so… you can only die."
The Sui general spoke coldly, then slowly raised the massive red sword. Only then did Fang Henshui realize that the knife hadn't turned red from being stained with blood; it was its natural color—eerie, deep, and terrifyingly red.
The blade was raised, and sunlight seemed to penetrate it.
What a terrifying knife.
What a beautiful knife.
As the knife fell, Fang Henshui even saw his own head roll on the ground. Blood gushed from his neck like a waterfall, each drop stained with shame.
Ah!
Fang Henshui awoke with a start, his body drenched in sweat.
I am no longer a Sui person…
Awake, Fang Henshui trembled, curled up in the corner of the tree hollow. He hugged his knees, burying his head between his legs, afraid to open his eyes to see the world. A long time passed like this, then he suddenly raised his head to look at the old monk, his eyes filled with hatred. It was the dead of night, and the tree hollow was even darker; he could only make out the old monk's vague outline, sitting there cross-legged like a zombie.
The old monk remained in meditation, seemingly oblivious to Fang Jie's unusual behavior.
Fang Henshui bit his lip, blood slowly trickling down his cheek.
...
...
When Fang Jie awoke, he stretched, only to fail once again in trying to calculate the time. This dungeon was perpetually dark; even under a clear blue sky, it was frighteningly dark here without a lamp. The light was always a dim, yellowish hue, making it impossible to discern day from night by a single oil lamp.
Staying in this place for a long time could drive one insane. He lost all sense of day and night, living in a daze. Perhaps intentionally, the times his meals were delivered were irregular. This caused Fang Jie to completely lose track of time, gradually becoming too lazy to even consider whether the sun or moon hung in the sky outside.
If Fang Jie didn't speak, the stone chamber was so quiet you could almost hear your own heartbeat. People always crave a peaceful life at times, wanting to avoid being disturbed by anyone or anything. But when truly in such an absolutely silent, enclosed room, an overwhelming fear often creeps in.
There was no sound at all; even the slightest movement of the body sounded jarring.
Fang Jie frowned, and after a long pause, his expression finally brightened. A long, sharp fart was forced out of his stomach, shattering the silence of the stone chamber. The sound rang out abruptly, so proud.
Fang Jie smiled smugly, turned over, and went back to sleep.
Perhaps this was a pointless struggle, not laughable, but rather tinged with a desolate air.
When Fang Jie opened his eyes for the second time, nothing in the room had changed. The oil lamp tirelessly kept watch, its oil seemingly inexhaustible. Just as Fang Jie got up to relieve himself after holding it in for so long, he heard voices outside the iron gate.
From this alone, he couldn't be sure it was daytime, because someone was always on guard outside. And there were always some bored people who would come to see him at any time, push open the iron gate, and exchange a few utterly pointless words. For example, the one-armed man seemed to enjoy watching Fang Jie's current disheveled state whenever he had free time.
Fang Jie quickly got off the stone bed, rushed to a corner, picked up the chamber pot, and urinated in a stream of yellowish urine. His expression was one of pure ecstasy, as if he had just slept with a beautiful woman.
The iron door opened, and the person who entered paused upon seeing Fang Jie pulling up his trousers, a strong displeasure flashing across his face.
This was someone Fang Jie had never seen before, very young. He wore a light gray, almost moon-white brocade robe, a jade pendant hanging from his belt, its red tassels particularly striking. This person was tall and slender, but not very tall. He appeared to reach at most below Fang Jie's ears. He was described as tall and slender because his proportions seemed perfect.
This young man had a very pale complexion, not the kind of paleness achieved through makeup or a sickly paleness, but a healthy, almost jade-like white. He had thin, slightly arched eyebrows, large eyes, and an arrogant gaze. His chin was slightly pointed compared to a man's, but it didn't look out of place.
Among a group of men, he would definitely be considered handsome.
But Fang Jie could tell at a glance that this was a girl. A self-important girl at that, a self-important girl who thought she could fool all the lecherous eyes by wearing men's clothing.
Behind her was a big shot, yet she followed the young man with great deference. So, as Fang Jie pulled up his pants, he wondered what kind of person this girl, who could have Hou Wenji, the Commander of the Imperial Guard, as her follower, must be.
"Disgusting."
The woman dressed as a man frowned and raised her hand to cover her nose.
"Eating, drinking, defecating, and urinating are the most normal and ordinary things. If you find even that disgusting, I really don't know what you find not disgusting. Besides… your definition of disgust is far too superficial; you completely misunderstand what disgust truly means."
Fang Jie casually sat back on the stone bed, took off his shoes, and began picking his toes.
"Your Highness…"
Hou Wenji called softly, trying to calm the woman whose face had darkened. She was the one who had been taken back by the soldiers of the Imperial Guard brought by the Crane Cry Daoist on Half-Moon Mountain that day. If Fang Jie had been there, he would have easily deduced her identity.
The woman, her face stern, slowly took a breath, trying to appear calm. She had come here purely out of curiosity, curious to know what the successor of her beloved seventh uncle looked like. But seeing Fang Jie now, she was clearly disappointed. Although the dirty fellow had delicate features, the way he sat on the stone bed picking his toes was truly repulsive.
"Alright."
She walked to the chair and sat down, trying her best to appear indifferent and calm. "Then tell me, what is truly disgusting?"
Fang Jie glanced at Hou Wenji, pointed to his nose, and asked, "Do I have to answer?"
He couldn't help but frown as his finger approached his nose; his fingers, which had just been picking at his toes, really didn't smell good.
Hou Wenji nodded. "Absolutely."
Fang Jie hummed in agreement, sat up straight, and stared at the woman for a moment, his gaze sweeping over her head without restraint. This made the woman even more displeased, but she feigned composure to appear assertive. She didn't get angry, simply because this prisoner seemed to look down on her. If she did, perhaps this annoying guy would look down on her even more.
"Disgusting things…you can imagine that you ate a pile of shit for breakfast. The person who defecated might have been a little inflamed, so the pile of shit was somewhat dark and hard. Therefore, it would be sticky when chewed and not easy to swallow."
The woman's face changed, and her stomach churned.
"Of course, you can treat this like dry rice. You can find someone with an upset stomach to have diarrhea and drink it like porridge. Like rinsing your mouth, wash away the dry rice you ate before."
The woman pursed her lips tightly, her gaze towards Fang Jie growing increasingly angry. The churning in her stomach almost made her lose control, but she ultimately didn't vomit.
"This is disgusting? Nothing special!"
She asked with a cold laugh.
"No, no, no."
Fang Jie waved his hands repeatedly, then looked into her eyes seriously and said, "What's disgusting is... you got something stuck in your teeth."
Ugh—
She finally couldn't hold it in any longer and vomited.