Chapter 252 — Demonic Arts Are Not His Forte

The monks were about to step forward when the monk Chenghuai said hastily, "Hold, senior brothers! Let me be the one to subdue this demon and beat this wretch to death!

" Before any of them could speak, Chenghuai had already rushed forward. He winked at Shen Mu and said in a low voice, "When we cross hands, draw it out for a few more exchanges, then concede. Once you have conceded, they will be too ashamed to beat you to death. And one thing more: do not use demonic arts, or their eyes will go red again.

" "This young monk has a good heart, far better than Jingming the white-browed monk.

" Shen Mu's eyes flickered, and he smiled.

"Let us trade a few pointers, you and I. " Chenghuai struck at once, opening with the Tingming Eight Secrets: Alone in the Eastern Sea, Bearing the Spring Thunder.

The instant his body moved, thunder rolled, like a mighty river surging into the sea, like spring thunder bursting forth. At this single move there already arose the strange signs of divine power: the vital essence before and behind him turned to a swelling river, and dimly one made out towering peaks, the waters pouring down from their heights as though they came from heaven itself and crashed into the sea. Carried to such a pitch, the moves of the Tingming Eight Secrets were almost indistinguishable from divine power; the Tingming Mahayana Sutra of the Great Tingming Temple was indeed worthy of its name.

Shen Mu likewise unleashed the Tingming Eight Secrets, no less grand and magnificent: mountains and great rivers, the sea and the spring thunder. With one earth-shaking blast, the muscles of both men quivered, sinew after sinew writhing beneath the skin like slender dragons, driving their strength to its utmost and drawing a great roar of applause from the monks.

"Chenghuai, beat this demon to death! " A gaunt, withered monk with white brows shouted, "This demon dares to cultivate the arts of our Great Tingming Temple! That is blasphemy against the Buddha. Kill him!

" Shen Mu changed his moves and became the Thousand-Armed Vajra.

In an instant came countless attacks; his palms turned to afterimages, as though he had grown a thousand arms, and every motion of every palm burst forth in thunder, like a great Buddha waving his thousand arms to subdue demons, and the monks all changed color at the sight. In sheer comprehension of the Tingming Eight Secrets, Shen Mu, this demon-chieftain of the Dark Demon Cult, had already grasped every subtlety of the art; in this single move, the Thousand-Armed Vajra, his attainment already surpassed that of eight or nine monks in ten within the temple.

The monks' cries grew quieter, and they muttered inwardly, "It seems even Chenghuai's attainment in this move falls short of his. I fear he cannot win. . .

" Chenghuai too executed the Thousand-Armed Vajra, and at the very first clash he knew at once that his attainment was not enough. Hastily he shook his body and roused the Battle-Victory Dharma; his frame swelled, and countless sutra texts emerged around him, encircling his body like a great bell, and dang, dang, dang, the bell tolled without cease. The two thousand-armed Buddhas collided, and in a single instant the superior was decided.

Shen Mu's palm struck the great bell wrought of sutra texts, and at once Buddha-light burst from its walls, ring upon ring. Where was the look of a demon about Shen Mu now?

He was plainly an accomplished monk, a youthful Buddha, an azure dragon coiling about him, his hallowed aspect majestic and serene. The next moment, Chenghuai saw Shen Mu's palm break through the bell; palm became fist, and the fist-seal pressed against his own breast, and his heart lurched in alarm. That blow of Shen Mu's had slipped precisely through the flaw in his Tingming Mahayana Sutra: the fist a seal, entering by the gap and driving straight home, the strike all but planted on his death-point. Yet there was little force in that fist; it barely touched him before Shen Mu drew it back.

The monks' hearts settled. "This demon's cultivation is not high; it is only his moves that are exquisite.

" Chenghuai steadied himself and hurried to counterattack, but Shen Mu's body moved like a roaming dragon, circling and gliding, a thousand arms dancing. In an instant the sutra-bell showed flaws beyond counting; the death-points at his brow, in both ears, both eyes, at his back, his sea of qi, his jade pillow, all were sealed by Shen Mu, and in the blink of an eye he had taken a hundred and more lethal blows.

Every one of those blows was aimed at a flaw in his Tingming Mahayana Sutra. Chenghuai was dumbstruck, feeling himself like a jar leaking on every side, mortal flaws everywhere, and cold sweat rolled down his forehead.

In recent years, to rid himself of his flaws, he had taken it upon himself to amend the Tingming Mahayana Sutra. He had thought the flaw at his throat erased, never reckoning that one hair moved and the whole body stirred; instead his flaws had only multiplied.

"So this demon's cultivation truly is not high!

" The monks were reassured.

"He still cannot break Chenghuai's golden bell of protection. However exquisite his moves, without great cultivation they carry no killing force. " Shen Mu withdrew his hand, and Chenghuai, coming to his senses, bowed in hasty thanks. "Thank you for your guidance, senior brother! Only now do I know that the Tingming Mahayana Sutra may not be lightly altered.

" Shen Mu shook his head. "It is not that it cannot be altered, but that you lack an opponent who can draw out your talents and your potential to the full. If you had a man of brilliant mind and far sight, one who could force you to advance without pause and strip the flaws from your art one by one, then you could become flawless.

" Chenghuai looked at him in haste, and Shen Mu shook his head again. "Not I. I have no such ability.

Go to the Tathagata and have him transmit the Tingming Mahayana Sutra to you directly.

If I am your opponent, the gains you make will be limited. " Chenghuai assented.

"The Tathagata sets great store by karmic affinity. I do not know whether I have such an affinity.

. . Oh no! " His face changed drastically, and he stamped his foot.

"This is bad! If you had lost to me, they would have been too ashamed to go on beating you to death; but now that you have beaten me, they will still want to kill you! What is to be done?

" "Chenghuai, stand down. " A middle-aged monk stepped forward, his face somewhat dark, and berated him: "Junior brother Chenghuai, you are far too softhearted!

This is the subduing of demons and the slaying of devils. You still held back and did not use your full cultivation. Would you spare his life and leave this demon to wreak havoc upon the world?

That is a sin beyond measure!

" Chenghuai opened his mouth to speak, but the monk flicked his sleeve. "Will you not withdraw and examine yourself? " Chenghuai had no choice but to withdraw, feeling deeply wronged. "Where did I hold back?

I used my full strength, every bit of it.

" The middle-aged monk looked at Shen Mu. "Cult Master Shen, you are the master of the Dark Demon Cult, while I am merely a nameless monk of the Heaven Dragon Court of the Great Tingming Temple.

You would not call this the strong bullying the weak, I trust? " Shen Mu smiled. "No.

Call it me, the great, bullying the small.

" The middle-aged monk chanted the Buddha's name and said, "Cult Master Shen, I shall make you know the vastness of the Buddhist Dharma. Look at this dragon pillar beside you: the dragon form upon it is one of the Hundred Dragons Chart of our Great Tingming Temple, and this humble monk will use that very dragon form to send the Cult Master to rebirth in the Land of Utmost Bliss. " Shen Mu studied the dragon pillar beside him. The dragon depicted there was a heavenly dragon, savage and ferocious, its sharp claws hooked downward in the posture of subduing a demon.