Volume One: All Things Awaken, Four Seasons Like Spring Chapter Thirty-Four: The Realm of the Black Prison, Schemes in the Bronze Hall

Space twisted, shattering like mirrored glass and dissolving into starlight that vanished in the air. The scene of the cedar grove faded away, leaving only utter darkness before their eyes. Steadying himself, Mo Wen realized something was not right.

“Damn it, Lin, what sort of place is this? There’s no air—I’m dying here!” Sword Dog wailed, transforming into a longsword and disappearing into the coalball space. Lin Xi clung nervously to Mo Wen's hand. As Sword Dog said, there was no trace of oxygen here.

Lin Xi found it hard to breathe, her delicate face flushed red. Mo Wen spoke in a low, steady voice: “Use your internal breath to nourish your body. There’s no oxygen here—we must find a way out quickly.”

Focusing his vision, Mo Wen saw that the two of them stood in a vast emptiness, solid rock beneath their feet, a deathly stillness enveloping the place, as though it housed memories from the dawn of time.

With her internal energy circulating, Lin Xi regained her composure, speaking with some trepidation: “My grandfather gave me this Breaking Talisman. It’s supposed to break through barriers and move us into the nearest space, but I never imagined it would bring us to such a dark place!”

Mo Wen quickly offered comfort, wrapping an arm around Lin Xi’s slender waist as they moved slowly forward. This world seemed boundless, a ceaseless expanse of blackness that weighed upon the spirit.

After nearly an hour, Lin Xi could barely continue. Her internal energy was not as deep as Mo Wen's, and sustaining her body became an ordeal. Mo Wen carefully controlled his own energy, channeling it through his palm into Lin Xi.

The eternal night stretched on without end, and Mo Wen’s heart grew heavy. Once his internal energy was depleted, he knew they would be left to die, their bodies drained as if drowned.

To conserve their strength, the two spoke little, hoping to find some anomaly within this space. Just as they were about to give in to despair, Mo Wen’s foot struck something hard.

The rock beneath them was hewn flat and smooth, so the sudden impact was startling. Though his body was strong, the pain in his toes was real.

Looking down, they saw an iron ring set into the stone. Mo Wen reached for it, grasped, and pulled with all his strength.

With a thunderous rumble, the iron ring lifted a massive stone slab, revealing a staircase descending into the depths, where a faint, eerie light glimmered.

The moment the slab was moved, a familiar sensation swept over them—undeniably, it was Earth’s air.

Greedily drawing in several deep breaths, Mo Wen took Lin Xi’s hand and led her down the stairs. As if sensing their touch, torches lining the walls burst into flame, illuminating the strange images of birds and beasts carved into the stone, each one fierce and lifelike, poised to leap out at any moment.

As they neared the source of the dim light below, they found themselves before a grand bronze hall. Ancient bronze pillars held up the towering ceiling. At the center of the hall sat a ragged monk, cross-legged on the floor. Chains as thick as a thumb bound his hands and feet, the ends fixed to the bronze pillars.

The monk sat with palms pressed together, serene and unmoving, his body covered in dust. Mo Wen and Lin Xi stood about ten meters away. Sensing carefully, Mo Wen found not the slightest trace of spiritual energy from the man.

An ordinary person?

Mo Wen could scarcely believe that an ordinary monk would appear in a place so strange and ominous. He did not act rashly, keeping Lin Xi behind him, and called out in a clear voice, “Master! May I ask, what is this place?”

The monk’s eyes snapped open, as if he had been expecting them.

“You have come, earlier than this old monk anticipated. No matter. As a prisoner, perhaps it is best to reach Nirvana sooner rather than later.”

Mo Wen was taken aback, not understanding the monk’s words. He surrounded himself with Buddhist energy and approached slowly.

The moment Mo Wen released his Buddhist aura, the monk sensed it at once.

“Oh? The Pure Lineage of my Buddhist Sect? It seems I misjudged. Who is your master? Why are you here?”

Surprised, the monk asked a string of questions. Mo Wen’s heart trembled, but he did not hesitate and recounted his story.

When he mentioned the passing of the ascetic monk, Master Wuxin, the monk’s face finally showed some expression—a look of sorrow. After Mo Wen finished telling how he had received the Pure Buddhist Inner Cultivation method, he watched the monk’s reaction in silence.

The monk chanted softly, golden Buddhist light radiating from him. The chains binding his limbs clanged and rattled. Then suddenly, a whip dropped from the bronze ceiling, lashing the monk’s body with brutal force, tearing flesh and drawing blood.

Yet the monk seemed accustomed to this, ignoring the pain as he continued reciting sutras. After a while, the chanting ceased, the golden light faded, and the whip withdrew into the ceiling.

“Master, what is this?” Mo Wen asked in shock. Each lash of the whip carried a mysterious power; he knew he could never withstand even one. If it struck him, his soul would have been scattered.

“The Soul-Devouring Whip. Pay it no mind. Since you have inherited my disciple’s teachings, it is surely fate!” the monk said sorrowfully. Mo Wen was astonished—the monk called the ascetic, Wuxin, his disciple. Then that meant...

He quickly stepped forward, bowed deeply, and said respectfully, “Though I do not belong to the Buddhist order, Master Wuxin once taught me. I am half a disciple of the Temple. If I may be so bold, let me call you Grandmaster—please accept my obeisance!”

His words were sincere. Setting aside the grudges within the Buddhist sect, he could not deny the kindness he had received.

Just as he was about to kneel, the monk raised a hand, supporting Mo Wen in midair.

“For that word ‘Grandmaster,’ I will lay down my life to send you out of the Black Prison today,” the old monk said with a smile. Forming seals with one hand, he prepared to cast a powerful spell, but Mo Wen hurriedly called out, “Grandmaster, wait!”

Too many questions filled his heart; he needed answers.

“Grandmaster, why are you imprisoned here? At the summit of Mount Heng, I met Senior Wuwei—he had already broken through illusion. Surely you, Grandmaster, have reached true freedom? Then why...?”

Before Mo Wen could finish, the old monk replied with a serene smile, “Why am I imprisoned here? So-called ‘true freedom’ only exists in the human world. Beyond it—where is true liberation? I imprisoned myself. The only thing that binds me is my own heart.”

Mo Wen was about to ask more when the old monk formed a Buddhist seal, raised his hands above his head, and a golden Buddha shadow appeared behind him. The Soul-Devouring Whip was already poised above, and now struck the monk again.

With a sudden gesture, the monk pointed at Mo Wen. A stream of golden light shot from his fingertip, entering Mo Wen’s body. Instantly, Mo Wen found himself speechless, his feet rooted to the floor, unable to move, forced to endure the endless torrent of golden light pouring into him.

“Brother!” Lin Xi cried, rushing towards Mo Wen, but the golden light bounced her away, sending her crashing against the bronze wall.

Several minutes passed before the old monk withdrew his hand, expending all his power in a single palm that struck the ceiling of the bronze hall.

“Open!”

A vortex appeared in the air above, swirling open. The old monk now looked utterly spent, his once-resonant voice now frail and aged. “Go. This passage will last only half a quarter of an hour. Hurry!”

Regaining control of his body, Mo Wen hurried to Lin Xi’s side. Finding her unharmed, he wasted no time. Lifting her in his arms, he leaped into the vortex.

As soon as Mo Wen entered, the vortex faded and disappeared. Strangely, the old monk, who had seemed on the verge of death, instantly recovered. The wounds from the Soul-Devouring Whip vanished without trace, and a look of cunning satisfaction appeared on his face.

From the shadows of the bronze hall, a sinister voice spoke: “Did he believe you?”

The old monk shook off the chains with a wave of his hand, smiling coldly. “Yes. When he awakens to his memories, and realizes he became a Buddhist disciple—what sort of expression will he have?”

“Heh! That will be most entertaining indeed!”

After another bout of sinister laughter, the bronze hall fell silent once more.