Chapter Thirty-Four: When Stones Lose Their Temper

Chapter Thirty-Four

Previously, when Tan Danna and I obtained this stone, I hadn’t had a proper look at it. Now seemed the perfect time to study this stone, supposedly worth eighty million. For ordinary people, eighty million is a staggering sum—enough to live worry-free for several lifetimes, or to transform a poor little town beyond recognition. I have no particular interest in money, but I am intrigued by this stone valued at eighty million.

At first glance, the stone looked utterly unremarkable, which is why Gao Jian and the others dismissed it as nothing special. But as I held it in my hand and examined it closely, I began to sense something peculiar about it. Tan Da had placed the stone in a cell phone box. When I received it, I hadn’t opened the box and assumed, given its lightness, that it was just a small stone. Now, unpacked, it did seem strange indeed: a chunk the size of my palm, yet far lighter than any stone of similar volume—as if it were made of foam, light but hard. Its surface was rough and dull, dark as charcoal, with a layer of yellow, dry earth clinging to it, much like a rusty iron lump freshly dug from the ground.

That crust of yellow earth looked almost like a shell, and within, you could just glimpse the black stone below. It seemed oddly familiar, as though I’d seen something like it before.

Wang Tingting poked the stone with her finger and whispered beside my ear, “The outer layer of this earth looks just like the clay on the Terracotta Warriors in Xi’an.”

Her words triggered my memory—no wonder it felt so familiar. Wang Tingting, seeing me nod quietly, smiled with a hint of pride. Could this stone somehow be related to the events on Liu’s side?

Ma Junfeng, catching her remark, glanced at me; Wang Tingting must have mentioned the happenings in Xi’an to him before. However, he seemed less interested in the stone’s origins and more concerned with its nature. He leaned in and murmured, “There’s something odd inside this stone.”

I turned the stone over, inspecting it from all angles. Aside from its shell-like surface, there was surely something unusual within. Still, I’d promised Tan Da that the stone remained the property of that mysterious lady, so it wouldn’t be proper for me to break it open.

Wang Tingting, quick-eyed and impatient, guessed my thoughts and reached out, ready to snatch the stone and split it open right there. Ma Junfeng hurriedly grabbed her arm. “Wait, wait! What do you think you’re doing?”

“I want to see what’s so strange inside,” Wang Tingting pouted, unwilling to give up.

Ma Junfeng could only shrug helplessly. “If you could see what’s strange just by looking, it wouldn’t be strange, would it?”

I studied the stone once more, quietly tracing a talisman in my palm and touching the stone with it. To an observer, it would appear that I was simply feeling the stone, but in truth, my palm was enveloping it in a charm.

A normal touch revealed nothing unusual, but as soon as the talisman was activated, a faint warmth radiated from the stone—like holding a freshly laid egg.

The stone shivered slightly. I knew then that the tremor hadn’t come from my hand, but from the stone itself. Excitement surged within me; the stone was indeed extraordinary.

The talisman triggered a surge of energy in the stone, growing hotter and hotter, which struck me as odd. I lifted my palm to see if anything had changed, only to find the stone attached to my hand as if it had sprouted from my flesh.

The heat intensified, and I could sense the stone’s anger—my charm had apparently provoked it. Its searing heat burned my palm, making me deeply uncomfortable. I tried to pull the stone away, using all my strength, but it clung to me seamlessly, and each attempt to remove it only enraged it further.

My palm grew hotter and hotter, from warmth to pain—not the ordinary sort of burn, but a wrenching pain that seemed to clutch at my very heart and twist it tight. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead, droplets as large as tears falling onto my clothes.

I’d once trained in internal martial arts and could endure considerable pain, but this was not merely physical—it reached into my spirit.

Unable to bear it any longer, I resorted to mudras from Esoteric Buddhism for resistance. Among the various hand seals I had learned, these were the ones I had mastered most thoroughly as a child, fascinated by their forms and styles, never expecting that they would become so useful in adulthood.

Silently, I formed a mental mudra—even though my right hand was immobilized by the stone, with my current cultivation, the gesture was a mere formality; as long as I recited the incantation internally, the mudra was considered complete—a heart-mudra, if you will.

With my mind in turmoil, I silently recited the Vajrasattva mantra, visualizing the seal of the Immovable Wisdom King in my mind. This mudra anchored my will, keeping me clear-headed and momentarily strengthening my body, dulling the pain. Sure enough, as soon as I completed the visualization, the agony lessened considerably and my complexion improved.

But the stone refused to relent, as if doubting my ability to withstand its assault; it continued to challenge me, escalating its efforts. Ma Junfeng, perceiving the situation, exclaimed, “This stone actually has a temper?”

I forced a wry smile and signaled that I was all right. Secretly, I glanced at Ma Junfeng’s hand—his palm bore a dark patch, evidence that he, too, had suffered from the stone, though he had hidden it well enough that no one else noticed; his endurance was remarkable.

Everyone’s eyes were on me. Thanks to the mudra, the burning in my palm was much reduced, though still uncomfortable—trivial now compared to the pain before.

Curious to see how far the stone would go, I simultaneously channeled energy through the talisman and maintained the Immovable Wisdom King’s seal. It seemed the stone sensed my intent—it pressed its attack, but I found I could withstand it.

Feigning nonchalance, I continued to test it, trying to gauge its origins. My hand remained raised and motionless, while its assault grew in strength. Had it unleashed its full power at the outset, my hand might have been reduced to ash. Fortunately, it did not, allowing me to play this little game.

After more than ten minutes, as midnight approached, I sensed the stone was reaching its limit; the sleeve below my shoulder had all but evaporated, exposing pale skin—the heat had vaporized the fabric. Wang Tingting and the others, sensing something amiss, had retreated early on from the growing heat. Now, seeing my sleeve dissolve, they stared wide-eyed at me as though I were some monster.

Gradually, the heat subsided—the stone, it seemed, had expended its strength and, unable to overcome me, began to withdraw.

As the warmth faded to the gentle heat of a freshly laid egg, I felt a surge of quiet satisfaction at having bested it. But as I withdrew my hand, I realized something was wrong—the heat had diminished, but the stone still clung stubbornly to my palm. I tried to pry it off, but it held fast, as if mocking my efforts.

Just as I pondered how to persuade it to let go, a sudden surge of heat shot up, charging into my body. Luckily, I still maintained the Immovable Wisdom King’s seal; otherwise, my lapse in concentration would have left me vulnerable to its sneak attack.

Though it failed to catch me off guard, the attempt startled me and made me realize I could not underestimate this stone. Its strength was not what frightened me—it was its intelligence, its awareness of my distractions and its readiness to exploit them.

After several failed ambushes, the stone seemed to resign itself to clinging to my palm. No longer trying to attack, it simply refused to let go, as if determined to stick to me out of sheer petulance.

I tried communicating with it, reaching out with my mind. Human psychic resonance can be powerful, though most people can’t harness it. The most striking examples are twins—when one thinks something, the other often senses it instantly. This is the power of telepathy, a phenomenon that Western countries have made a top research priority.

I once read of a case in Iraq where an American soldier, gravely wounded in an ambush, lapsed into a vegetative state. His twin brother, caring for him daily, never stopped calling out to him. Though doctors declared he would never wake, his brother managed to revive him within a month—a case that made headlines in the US and UK, sparking scientific interest in this field.

Yet, in this regard, Western nations are no match for us in the East. As early as the Shang dynasty, folk traditions spoke of mind reading, telepathic connection over great distances, and other wondrous arts. Ancient texts record countless such practices, which later evolved into “Far-Seeing Eyes” and “Wind-Following Ears”—all variations of psychic resonance.

I tried to communicate with the stone using this principle, using my will as a medium to convey my thoughts. The mind forms intangible messages, transmitting them to the recipient. Humans use their brains to receive external signals, but I had no idea what the stone used—still, since I could sense its presence, it must have a way to receive.

I projected friendliness, making it clear I meant no harm, only wishing to communicate. Yet, startled by my first contact, it recoiled in surprise at my ability to reach it, then promptly ignored me, even taunting me with a sense of smugness.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t do anything about it—I simply wanted to understand what it was. But it was stubborn, refusing to acknowledge me no matter what I said, clearly still sulking over my earlier actions and maintaining an air of defiance. Unless I won its genuine respect, it would not respond.

So, I silently recited the Great Sun Tathagata mantra and formed the Sun Wheel Seal in my mind—a gesture that lets me exert my spiritual abilities to their fullest. Every time I use it, my body feels lighter, my senses—smell and hearing—sharpened to the point where I can hear the flutter of a mosquito’s wings nearby.

Once the heart-mudra was complete, I swiftly formed the Great Vajra Wheel Seal. The stone watched me intently, all its attention focused on me. When I finished the mudra, I acted with lightning speed, prying the stone from my palm. Only then did the stone realize what had happened, but it was too late to stop me or gloat any longer.

Afterward, I tried again to communicate, but it ignored me entirely, retreating into itself like a child sulking in a room after being caught misbehaving.

Brushing off my hands, I handed the stone to Wang Tingting for safekeeping. She instinctively reached out to take it but, recalling my earlier expression, hurriedly drew back, staring at me with wide eyes.

Laughing, I teased, “If you can awaken it, I might as well retire.” She snorted, unconvinced. “Am I really that useless?”

I shook my head helplessly—one must never argue with a woman. As the saying goes, a wise man doesn’t quarrel with a woman.

Just as I set the stone down, midnight struck. At that moment, I felt an odd sensation—a strange attraction pulled at me as my hand left the stone, compelling me to pick it up again, as if under hypnosis.

It was an eerie feeling. I hastily formed a hand seal to steady my mind. Glancing sideways, I saw Ma Junfeng also struggling to control himself. Meanwhile, the two bodyguards closest to the stone were unable to resist the urge—they reached out to grab it.

I shouted urgently, “Pull them back! Don’t let them touch the stone!”