Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Mystic Art of the Nine-Character Slash

The stone still lay there quietly, its black surface gleaming with an oily sheen. Compared to ordinary black pebbles, this inconspicuous stone was far uglier. Yet who would have thought that it concealed two hidden forces within it? And it was these two mysterious energies that had prompted the struggle between two factions.

If those two groups knew that what lay inside was a Soul Devourer, I wondered if they would still dare to covet it. Or perhaps they might possess someone capable of suppressing the Soul Devourer. Regardless, I was certain they would gain nothing and lose much.

Despite this, I had no mind to concern myself with the matters of others.

The secret incantation, also known as the True Word, is a practice whereby the cultivator recites a series of mantras, thereby conjuring creative force within and inducing transformation. Through the vibration of these special syllables, one’s energy channels are stirred, the mind focused to a singular point, extraordinary potential awakened, and both supernatural powers and profound wisdom are elicited. Secret incantation is a discipline all cultivators must study; even the Buddhist chanting of monks is a form of it.

For now, I had managed to force the Soul Devourer back with a Buddhist chant, though it remained unharmed. It feared the Buddhist tones only because, during its last entrapment in a temple, it was subdued by such sounds. Should it discover that my chant was not the one it dreaded, it would immediately retaliate—I knew this well. Therefore, my best strategy was to press my advantage.

In esoteric Buddhism, the left hand, ever still, represents the Hand of Compassion to ferry the ignorant. The right, ever moving, is the Hand of Wisdom for guiding the virtuous—a union of compassion and wisdom, leading all mortals to liberation. Pressing the hands together signifies the severance of greed, anger, ignorance, doubt, and pride, dispelling the obstacles of delusion, and distancing oneself from the primordial ignorance of body, speech, and mind. The gesture, or “mudra,” signifies the cessation of the three evils—killing, theft, and lust—while the recitation of Buddha names and contemplation of the divine bring forth the bliss and purity of nirvana.

Among my studies, the core practice is the “Three Mysteries Empowerment,” comprised of the Mystery of Body—forming mudras with the hands; the Mystery of Speech—reciting mantras; and the Mystery of Mind—contemplating the deity. The Mystery of Body is primarily the forming of hand seals, and among the minor esoteric mudras, the profound Nine Syllable Cut is my specialty.

Seated cross-legged, I summoned my mental power to its peak and projected the force of my Buddhist chant toward the stone once more. The Soul Devourer, lurking within, was now impervious to the chant, yet I persisted, intending to drive the spirit within the stone to its utmost alertness. Once I finished reciting the Heart Sutra, I sensed the spirit had reached its prime; its solemn, somber aura told me it was ready, prepared to seize any chance to escape.

I remained motionless and formed the Immovable Wisdom King Mudra. Combined with the powers of heaven and earth, this mudra would grant me unwavering resolve, rendering me immune to the Soul Devourer’s influence.

As soon as I formed the seal, my body trembled involuntarily. The stone, too, shifted slightly as if in response. Indeed, the Soul Devourer now realized that the person using the Buddhist chant was not the one it feared; a force began to emanate from the stone, very different from the previous attraction—perhaps this was its true, dangerous power.

The released energy formed an invisible vortex, spinning madly around me, as if I were trapped in the eye of a whirlpool, torn by its force. The air thickened as though turned to solid stone, and I felt every cell of my skin stretched and deformed. It reminded me of the seventeenth level of the Eighteen Hells—the Millstone Hell—where one’s flesh is ground beneath a giant stone, skin splitting open, blood and sinew exposed, and muscle ground into paste.

This sensation was so dreadful that I nearly screamed aloud. Fortunately, the Immovable Wisdom King Mudra I had formed earlier saved me, and a sudden clarity flashed across my mind.

So, this force was only a psychological attack, meant to muddle one’s mind rather than inflict true harm. Had I panicked, I might have lost myself and gone mad.

The sheer strength of this force from the outset made me reevaluate the Soul Devourer’s power. Now that battle was joined, I would show no mercy; I could not allow it another chance.

I snorted coldly and began to chant the Six-Syllable Mantra—Om Mani Padme Hum. In recent years, I rarely used secret incantations; the Nine Syllable Cut sufficed for minor foes. But this time, I faced a Soul Devourer that had appeared over a thousand years ago, and its dreadful power left me unsure of my ability to subdue it. Thus, I dared not give it a second chance.

The Six-Syllable Mantra—Om Mani Padme Hum—embodies the wisdom and compassion of all Buddhas, encapsulating the essence of eighty-four thousand teachings. Among all mantras, none surpasses it. Reciting it (often called “Mani”) is akin to reciting the entire canon. It perfects the Six Paramitas and closes the doors to the six realms of rebirth.

Each syllable of the mantra was forced out through my will, each word meant to pierce the Soul Devourer’s heart.

I had to maintain control, lest the spirit within the stone be harmed; were it wounded, it would suffer a grievous loss of vitality, like a man suffering a botched surgery.

Buddhism’s wisdom is vast and profound, and to gain even a sliver of such pure insight is a rare fortune. By merging my heart with the mantra, I achieved inner clarity. Once the mind is focused, so too is the will, and my mental power increased.

Mental power is a mysterious force, the pursuit of all cultivators—also called spiritual power. Some are born with it, like Li Baoguo the “national treasure,” or other extraordinary individuals. In reality, even one in a million with such a gift is exceedingly rare.

Both innate and acquired mental power are crucial; innate denotes a natural affinity for wisdom, acquired the talent to reach the Great Vehicle.

My own mental power is inborn, a trait passed down in my family—the reason our Wanyan line has always been sparse.

With the spirit inside the stone, I had to take extra care. When I unleashed the Six-Syllable Mantra, the Soul Devourer, apart from a few spasms, showed little reaction.

I refused to believe it could resist the mantra, so I repeated it over and over with my will. Each time I chanted, the Soul Devourer twitched, and the spirit, being so close, was also affected, uttering plaintive cries.

The spirit’s power was not much less than the Soul Devourer’s. The mantra only partially affected it, yet it could hardly bear it; thus, the Soul Devourer could not be faring much better. Clearly, the tactic was working. But if the spirit were seriously harmed, it might not escape, and without it, Tang Xin’s soul could not be rescued. I had to consider this.

At that moment, the Soul Devourer, cunning as ever, discerned my concern and began to retaliate.

Its attack was not as ferocious as I imagined—no surging waves or mountain-crushing force, but a calmness so deep it was unnerving.

This put me on high alert. Tang Xin was still waiting for me at Gu Jing’s place; a single misstep might doom him to eternal slumber.

Suddenly, my cellphone rang insistently in my pocket. Who was calling—Old Ren, Gu Jing, or Wang? The number was unfamiliar, not saved in my contacts.

Could it be Old Ren? If so, it must be urgent. Or perhaps Gu Jing? If he was busy with Gangzi’s matter, he wouldn’t use the soul-banner unless necessary. And since Tang Xin’s soul was here, even that might not help; the only reason to call would be for something at his apartment complex.

Then I thought of Li Feng, though if he were in trouble, the call would have come from the complex, not Gu Jing. Or perhaps Wang Tingting, with her notorious impatience.

I felt a vague sense of unease I couldn’t quite name.

Just as I was about to answer, I sensed a familiar voice calling me—a voice so familiar I couldn’t place it. I decided to answer; the truth would reveal itself.

As I pressed the answer key, I heard that voice sigh—a sigh that went straight to my heart, stunning me into sudden awareness. I dropped the phone, formed an Internal Lion Seal with both hands, and recited the Vajrasattva Demon-Subduing Mantra.

With the seal completed, my mind cleared completely. I shouted, “So, you dare to manipulate the mind!” Had I not awoken in time, I might never have escaped, forever trapped in its illusory world.

The Soul Devourer had read my mind, using my worries to lure me into its snare. Had I not regained consciousness, I would have been lost to its fabricated space.

The Six-Syllable Mantra was too indiscriminate, risking harm to the spirit within. That approach would not do.

But just because I dared not use the mantra did not mean I couldn’t subdue it. Besides the secret incantation, the Mystery of Body would suffice.

I summoned all my mental power, aiming to end things in a single blow. I formed the Nine Syllable Cut—a mudra I had used only once before, two years ago, during a paranormal incident. The Immovable Wisdom King Mudra was but one of its forms.

I focused my mind, recited the secret mantra, and gathered all my will into my fingertips. The mantra, fused with my intent, swelled into a formidable force, and in an instant, energy surged from me, radiating through skin and hair. I spat out ten syllables: “Rin, Pyo, To, Sha, Kai, Jin, Retsu, Zai, Zen, Kyo!”

With each syllable, my hands formed the corresponding mudra: Rin—Immovable Wisdom King, Pyo—Great Vajra Wheel, To—Outer Lion, followed by Inner Lion, Outer Binding, Wisdom Fist, Sun Wheel, and Treasure Vase. My hands moved swiftly, and at the final syllable, I pointed directly at the Soul Devourer.

The force shot forth with a crackling sound. The Nine Syllable Cut was a most domineering technique—when, years ago, hundreds of vengeful spirits besieged the school auditorium, I had dispersed their wrath with this very method.

When the power met the Soul Devourer, a ringing hum sounded, and the palm-sized stone began spinning madly on the ground, the air thickening into a dense fog.

I watched the mist warily—if the force emerged, I would have succeeded. The moment it appeared, I would seal the stone, depriving the Soul Devourer of a vessel. Separated from the spirit, I could then subdue it with the Six-Syllable Mantra.

The stone spun faster and faster, and suddenly, several energies burst forth—not just one. If it were only the Soul Devourer, there would not have been so many. But there was no time to ponder; if the Soul Devourer emerged, I would block its escape first.

Yet the mysterious forces did not attack me as I expected, but scattered to the sides. The spirit at my side cheered—it had escaped.

Though I could not speak with it, I sensed its elation. It had seized the opportunity and brought forth the trapped souls within.

They were free, though in my moment of distraction, the Soul Devourer slipped back into the stone, sealing itself away.

I tried multiple hand seals upon the stone, but to no effect; it was adept at hiding. If it wished to remain concealed, then so be it. I bit my finger, chanted a secret spell, and used a sealing technique, smearing my blood on the stone.

Though I had not subjugated the Soul Devourer, the blow from the Nine Syllable Cut had gravely weakened it, preventing further mischief. With my blood and a secret mantra, I sealed it within; barring unforeseen events, it would not break free again.

This ending, though not perfect, was satisfactory enough.

I took out a talisman given to me by Gu Jing and, following his instructions, collected the freed souls into it.

Seeing Tang Xin’s soul among them, I finally felt at ease.

The spirit, who had trusted me before, now trembled in fear, thinking I might capture it as well.

Only after I put away the talisman without harming it did it finally relax.

I examined the spirit carefully; it resembled an elf, with a human face but a conical head, no feet, just a trailing appendage, and two small hands. If it had wings, I might have thought it an angel.

I smiled and said, “Thank you for that sigh. Had it not been for you, I would have fallen into its trap.”

My gratitude delighted it, and it danced about in joy. After so many years—perhaps a thousand, perhaps eight hundred—it was finally free and naturally ecstatic.

It seemed quite proud of my thanks. As it floated towards the door, it suddenly stopped and looked back at me, shrieking in protest—it had realized I’d set up a barrier there.

I dispelled the formation, and it patted its chest in relief.

“What will you do now? With your resting place gone, you can’t wander forever. Will you seek a new place to cultivate?” I asked, seeing it like a child, which explained its earlier mischief.

It thought for a moment, then nodded vigorously. It floated over, touched my hand in friendship, and uttered a few plaintive cries, as if bidding farewell.

I took out a talisman and, igniting it with my heart’s fire, said, “You are free; go wherever you wish. If you ever need my help, follow this path to find me.”

The talisman, a guiding charm, carried my blood—its power, driven by the secret mantra, would guide it to me if needed.

It whimpered softly, touched my hand a few more times, then turned and vanished through the doorway.