[Vol. 1, Fragment XIII: Ministry of Justice ? Arrest Warrant (Revoked)]

  "The demonic monk Pudu, addicted to alcohol as if it were his life, gathered crowds for gambling, and repeatedly slept... anywhere at the Imperial Palace gates. Charge: Great Disrespect. Note: Capture failed. The culprit passed away in parinirvana yesterday. Cause of death... laughed himself to death after drinking too much?"

  — Ministry of Justice ? Cold Case Files

  [Internal Note / Directorate of Astronomy] "Sarira (Relic)": The world views it as the crystallization of merit and virtue; the foul-mouthed staff of the Miscellaneous Division call them "Hard Bones." But even they admit: a true Sarira suppresses evil far faster than any sutra.

  The mass graves outside Jiankang City were exceptionally lively tonight.

  Naturally, this liveliness didn't mean a crowd of the living, but rather a howling wind. The wind darted through the dead woods, emitting a whistling wail that sounded less like weeping ghosts and more like a mob of toothless old women collectively cursing the streets.

  Xie Bi’an trudged unevenly up the mountain path littered with paper money and rotting wood. A strand of foxtail grass hung from his lips, and he carried a jar of cheap, throat-burning liquor he had just bought on credit from a roadside tavern.

  "Gleaner Xie," Shen Wu followed behind, the fire striker in his hand flickering wildly in the wind. "Are we truly here to find an eminent monk?"

  Shen Wu looked at the burial pits dug open by wild dogs and the ownerless skulls rolling across the ground, his skepticism reaching its peak. "Even ghosts wouldn't want to live in this place."

  "Proper monks obviously don't live here. They live in the Great Hall of the Buddha, enjoying the offerings of incense."

  Xie Bi’an stopped before a solitary grave that looked like nothing more than a dirt mound. He set the liquor jar on the ground with a dull thud.

  At that moment, a furry little silver head poked out from the collar of his wide fox-fur robe. It was the aberrant cat, Anu, who had accompanied him. This mass grave—covered in mud, shattered bone, and the stench of rot—clearly violated the silver cat's absolute bottom line. A highly human flash of disgust crossed Anu's crushed-diamond eyes. She elegantly extended a front paw and, with a sharp smack, swatted a drifting green ghost-fire into glowing powder, much like swatting away a nauseating fly.

  Afterward, refusing to let her paw linger in the open air for a second longer, she vigorously wiped it against Xie Bi’an’s clean lapels. Scrubbing away the non-existent "yin-mud," Anu proudly raised her head, swept a cold, trash-viewing gaze over the surrounding wandering spirits, and—resolutely preventing her noble toe beans from touching the filthy ground—haughtily shrank back into Xie Bi’an’s embrace.

  "But the one we're looking for is 'improper'." Xie Bi’an ignored Anu and continued his conversation with Shen Wu, pointing at the grave.

  There was no tombstone. Only a rotting wooden plank stuck in the dirt, bearing a crookedly carved line of text. The calligraphy was so frantic it looked like earthworms fighting: Knock with wine, piss off without. Win to become a Buddha, lose to become a ghost.

  Shen Wu’s mouth twitched. The aesthetic of this eminent monk's grave rivaled the storefront of an underground casino.

  "This master's Dharma name was 'Pudu'." Xie Bi’an sat right on the grave mound and patted the rotting plank. "Back when the Imperial Preceptor first entered the capital, every monk in the city went to kneel and bow. Only he stood at the city gates and... let out a resounding fart at the Imperial Preceptor's carriage."

  "And then?" Shen Wu asked.

  "And then he became famous." Xie Bi’an shrugged. "He was hunted by the Imperial Preceptor for three thousand miles, finally hid in this mass grave, and literally laughed himself to death."

  As he spoke, Xie Bi’an slapped away the clay seal of the jar. The pungent aroma of cheap liquor instantly filled the air.

  "Master! The game is open! Someone brought offerings!"

  Xie Bi’an shouted at the mound, then pulled three ivory dice from his robes and tossed them into a broken bowl.

  The dice spun rapidly in the bowl with a crisp clatter.

  Just as Shen Wu was about to say you're insane, the ground beneath his feet shuddered violently with a heavy boom.

  Following that, a skeletal hand with blue-gray skin suddenly thrust out from the grave mound, grabbing the jar of cheap liquor in a vice grip.

  "Wine! Good wine! Even if it's watered-down horse piss, it tastes better than Meng Po's Soup of Oblivion!"

  A voice like a cracked gong drifted up from the dirt. Soon after, the soil churned, and a skeleton draped in a tattered kasaya, sporting a few weeds on its skull, drilled out of the grave like a groundhog.

  It—or rather, he—had not entirely decomposed. A few ounces of dried meat still clung to his face, two clusters of green ghost-fire flickered in his eye sockets, and his hand tightly clutched a battered cattail leaf fan.

  "Eh? It's you, kid?"

  The mad monk Pudu tilted his head, his ghost-fire eyes looking Xie Bi’an up and down. "You haven't even redeemed the underwear you lost to me last time, and you're here to court death again today?"

  Shen Wu subconsciously glanced at Xie Bi’an’s lower half.

  "Ahem." Xie Bi’an's expression didn't flicker. "Master, let the past remain the past. I brought a new friend today, and a big business deal."

  "Friend?" Pudu turned to look at Shen Wu.

  Shen Wu felt a chill sweep through his entire body, but he braced himself and cupped his fists. "Junior Shen Wu of the Mirror Demon Division, greets... the Master."

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  "Mirror Demon Division?" The few teeth left in Pudu's mouth parted into a mocking arc. "The court's hounds. What, did that old bastard Imperial Preceptor finally die? You're here to hire me to chant for his soul? If that's the case, this monk won't charge a copper; I'd even pay out of pocket to stomp on his grave until dawn."

  When he uttered the title "Imperial Preceptor," the clouds over the distant imperial city suddenly surged, as if squeezed viciously by an invisible hand.

  "The Imperial Preceptor isn't dead." Xie Bi’an shook his head. "But he's almost finished refining the Emperor into a zombie. We plan to... burn the Emperor."

  "Burn the Emperor?"

  Pudu paused. Then, he erupted into earth-shattering, maniacal laughter.

  "Hahahaha! Burn the Emperor! Good! You've got balls! Bigger balls than this monk!"

  He laughed so hard his jawbone detached with a sharp crack. He expertly picked it up and snapped it back into place like a building block.

  "Spit it out, what do you need this monk to do?" Pudu took a swig of liquor. The liquid leaked through his jawbone and dripped onto his tattered kasaya, but he couldn't care less.

  "Borrow something of yours."

  Xie Bi’an held up one finger. "A Sarira relic. I need the hardest, smelliest one, the one most capable of suppressing evil qi."

  Pudu's laughter ceased abruptly.

  He stared dead at Xie Bi’an with his green ghost-fire eyes, and the surrounding temperature instantly plummeted to freezing. The wind in the graveyard stopped; even the insect chirps vanished.

  "Kid," Pudu's voice turned glacial. "Do you know what you're saying? This monk might eat meat and drink wine, but these bones were given by the Buddha. You want to dismantle my bones?"

  "Not dismantling bones."

  Xie Bi’an didn't back down; instead, he leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with the shrewdness of an unscrupulous merchant. "I want your... obsession."

  "Back then, you pointed at the Imperial Preceptor and cursed him for three days and three nights, eventually suffocating to death in this mass grave because you couldn't catch your breath. That breath of anger... should still be there, right?"

  Xie Bi’an pointed at Pudu's right hand. "Right here."

  Pudu fell silent.

  He looked down at his right hand.

  The other fingers on that hand had rotted down to white bone, all except the middle finger.

  That middle finger bone displayed a bizarre golden-red hue. It was crystal clear, radiating a violent, unyielding aura of pure rage.

  That was the final middle finger he had raised toward the Imperial Palace right before he died.

  Looking at that finger bone, Shen Wu suddenly found he couldn't laugh. That wasn't vulgarity; that was a curse a man had laid down with his life.

  This wasn't a Sarira of compassion. This was a Sarira of wrath.

  "You've got your eye on this?" Pudu held up the middle finger, his tone playful. "This is my absolute treasure. With this, I can rule this mass grave as king. Even the Black and White Guards of the Underworld don't dare come harvest my soul."

  "Name your price." Xie Bi’an pulled out the Fire Essence and the vial of mermaid tears. "Our 'Grand Ceremony of Liuli' is missing a finale. If your middle finger is placed inside, it would be the ultimate humiliation for the Imperial Preceptor."

  "Think about it," Xie Bi’an coaxed. "The Emperor, painstakingly refined by the Imperial Preceptor, ultimately suppressed by your single middle finger. If this story gets out..."

  "Hehe... hehehe..."

  The ghost-fire in Pudu's eyes danced violently. He was clearly moved by this darkly humorous proposal.

  "Deal!"

  Pudu shouted. He violently extended his right hand, grabbed the golden-red middle finger with his other hand, and snapped it hard.

  Crack! A heart-trembling snap rang out.

  The ghost-fire in Pudu's eye sockets dimmed sharply, as if a corner of his soul had been forcibly torn away. He had snapped off the "Middle Finger Sarira" he had cultivated for a lifetime.

  "Take it!"

  He tossed the still-warm (though technically cold) finger bone to Xie Bi’an. "Tell that old bastard Imperial Preceptor that this is the final dish this monk is treating him to! This finger cures all insubordination!"

  Xie Bi’an caught the finger bone with sincere reverence. It was incredibly heavy and shockingly hot. What burned wasn't fire, but an almost tangible rage meant to incinerate everything.

  Anu, who had been feigning sleep in disgust within Xie Bi’an’s robes, suddenly shot halfway out. Her aloof, lazy heterochromatic pupils instantly contracted into two dangerous slits. To this extremely picky silver cat, who refused to eat anything but the "inner cores of great demons," this "Middle Finger Sarira"—condensed from the life-long cultivation and violent rage of an eminent monk—was a peerless, exceptionally rare delicacy.

  She didn't let out any anxious cries. Instead, with a graceful speed that left only an afterimage, she thrust out a front paw and smacked it precisely onto Xie Bi’an’s wrist holding the bone. Sharp silver claws popped out slightly, attempting to claim this "top-tier inner core" for herself with undeniable arrogance.

  "This thing has too much fire energy; your delicate stomach can't digest it." Xie Bi’an sighed helplessly, curled his finger, and lightly flicked Anu on the forehead with a soft thump.

  Anu winced in pain, withdrawing her paw with extreme reluctance and letting out a snort of utter disdain from her throat. She shot Xie Bi’an a cold glare with eyes that saw right through the stingy nature of humans. Then, turning her head haughtily, she elegantly licked a trace of violent aura off her paw. She shrank back deep into the lapels, leaving Xie Bi’an only a fluffy back-of-the-head, as if announcing: Fine, keep it. The air here is so foul only Xianchan would like it anyway.

  "Thank you for granting this, Master." Xie Bi’an helplessly patted Anu, then carefully stored the finger bone, feeling as though his palm was about to be cooked by the sheer anger radiating from it.

  "Piss off! Don't delay this monk's drinking!"

  Pudu waved his hand, hugged the jar of liquor, and drilled back into the dirt mound in a flash.

  "Remember! Make the fire big when you burn him! Don't embarrass this monk!"

  The voice echoed from underground, accompanied by the glug-glug sound of drinking.

  Xie Bi’an and Shen Wu stood before the grave, looking at each other.

  "Now that is a true eminent monk," Xie Bi’an sighed.

  He patted his chest, which now held four world-shocking materials: The Fire Essence (from the man-eating Dragon Kiln). The Dragon Vein Dregs (from the depleted national treasury). The Mermaid Tear (from tortured hope). The Middle Finger Sarira (from the wrath of a mad monk).

  "Fire, Earth, Water, Metal... all gathered."

  Xie Bi’an let out a long breath, but immediately after, his face turned deathly pale.

  A piercing drilling hum hit him, bringing a violent ringing in his ears, as if hundreds of flies had simultaneously burrowed into his brain.

  His body swayed. The Liuli right hand suddenly lost its luster, turning a dead, ashen gray. At the same time, that golden thread went frantic, shooting up his wrist and instantly covering his entire forearm.

  "Gleaner Xie!" Shen Wu was quick, grabbing him to keep him from falling. "What's wrong?"

  "Overdrawn..."

  Xie Bi’an smiled bitterly, his entire body going limp against Shen Wu like a puddle of mud. "Running to three places in one day, using the Liuli hand three times, and carrying so many 'dirty things'... this skin sack can't hold up anymore."

  He held up the ashen right hand; it was continuously shedding fragments, like weathering stone.

  "Needs repairs..." Xie Bi’an's voice grew fainter, his eyelids as heavy as lead weights. "Must be repaired..."

  "Repaired where? Back to the Directorate of Astronomy to find an Imperial Physician?" Shen Wu asked anxiously.

  "Imperial Physicians? Those quacks only know how to prescribe tonics." Xie Bi’an rolled his eyes, using his last bit of strength to point toward the most prosperous, brightly lit street in Jiankang City.

  "Go... to the Pavilion of Forgotten Sorrows." "Find Su Xiaoxiao..."

  With those words, Xie Bi’an's head lolled to the side, and he passed out completely.

  Shen Wu stood frozen, looking at the unconscious man in his arms whose hand was literally crumbling to dust, then looked toward the red-light district reeking of rouge and powder in the distance.

  "Her again?"

  Shen Wu gritted his teeth, seemingly recalling the absurd scene he witnessed there last time. "Treating a brothel like a clinic, treating a courtesan like a doctor... Xie Bi’an, you're going to lose your life in a woman's bed sooner or later."

  Shen Wu gritted his teeth and hoisted Xie Bi’an over his shoulder. Though cursing verbally, his feet didn't stop.

  "Madman. All of you are madmen."

  Carrying Xie Bi’an, he marched down the mountain with large strides. The moonlight stretched their shadows long, like two miserable wandering ghosts fleeing toward the dirtiest, yet most tender, money-squandering den in the mortal realm.