THE HALL WAS STILL, unchanged from when he had entered. The scent of sandalwood curled around them. The bodhisattva's eyes remained lowered, compassionate and serene amid the ringing of Buddhist bells.
The emperor gasped, his chest heaving. Only when his palm slipped on the mat did he realize his hands were so sweaty they'd almost soaked the cushion beneath him. His heart was racing. When he looked around, the statues still seemed to hold a hint of uncanny savagery. The eerie, indistinct laughter lingered in his ears, etched into his memory.
"I… What happened?"
"You nearly succumbed to your inner demons, Your Majesty." Master Lingzang sighed. The emperor's mental distress was more severe than he thought. He was in a temple surrounded by buddhas, awash in their bells and sutras, yet he was becoming more and more agitated.
"I heard the howling and weeping of ghosts," the emperor said. "They clung to me, refusing to rest—they tried to drag me to hell with them!" The emperor's back was still clammy with sweat. Somehow he felt this place was tainted, though he knew it to be impossible. Daxingshan Temple had been renowned for three hundred years. What wandering ghosts or malevolent spirits would dare dance in front of the bodhisattvas who had stood here for centuries?
He met Master Lingzang's eyes and found himself unable to speak this thought aloud. "Perhaps I'm simply too tired."
"While this old monk was wandering the lands," said Master Lingzang, "I learned of a calming draught that can soothe the mind and settle the spirit. Allow me to write it down for you later. You can ask the imperial physicians to look it over before you decide to use it."
The emperor's smile was stiff. "Thank you."
Seeing how listless he was, Master Lingzang set aside the recitation of sutras. He instructed He Zhong to open the doors and supported the emperor into a side room for rest.
The Buddhist ceremony was a three-day affair, with the second portion beginning in the afternoon. If nothing went awry, the emperor would fast and pray for three days. Afterward, the court would pass down an edict acknowledging the emperor's wrongs and seeking forgiveness from heaven, and the matter would be laid to rest.
The officials were still waiting in Tianwang Hall, unaware of what had transpired. All they knew was that the emperor had exited quickly and that his complexion was poor.
Daxingshan Temple took up an entire block by itself, and there was plenty of room within to accommodate the imperial entourage and ministers. During the afternoon ritual, Yu Qingze and the others followed the attending monks into the main hall so they could listen from the edges of the room.
But the emperor never made an appearance.
Asleep in the side room, he was dreaming a long dream. He dreamed again of Yuwen Yong, as well as his son-in-law Yuwen Yun and the many people he'd killed. They were resurrected in his nightmare, their faces drenched in blood as they pursued him, intent on exacting revenge.
The emperor fled them in his dreams until, exhausted, he finally struggled to wakefulness. As he gazed up at the sky outside the window, he realized night had descended.
He Zhong's gentle voice drifted into his ears. "Your Majesty, you slept soundly all afternoon. Master Lingzang said it was a good thing; the rituals are best performed with a sincere heart, so I hesitated to disturb your slumber. How is Your Majesty feeling now? Would you like some dinner?"
The emperor rubbed his forehead. He felt a lingering grogginess, as if he'd yet to recover from the afternoon's vision, but he was in somewhat better spirits after his rest.
He murmured in affirmation, and He Zhong quickly jogged out. He returned with a group of monks carrying all sorts of vegetarian dishes.
"Today…feels colder than yesterday?" the emperor ventured.
"Yes, it's snowing outside." He Zhong fetched a cloak and draped it over him.
"Tell the kitchen to prepare some warming ginger soup and have it sent to Yu Qingze and the soldiers."
He Zhong bowed in acknowledgment and smiled. "You're very considerate, Your Majesty. This humble servant never thought of doing that." He ordered a young eunuch to stay behind while he busied himself with the emperor's orders.
The emperor casually picked some scriptures from a nearby bookshelf, reading as he ate. A deafening roar echoed in the distance—the muted growl of rolling thunder.
Snow and thunder at the same time? Startled, the emperor turned to look outside, his pleasant mood vanishing in an instant.
He'd encountered thunder during snowfall once in his youth and felt no sense of foreboding at the time. But considering the series of strange occurrences over the past few days, even the slightest anomaly set his heart racing. After today's horrifying visions, he was paranoid and jumping at shadows.
Another wave of thunder rumbled, clap echoing after clap as the snowflakes drifted down.
He knew he wouldn't be the only one disturbed. First the eclipse, now a thunderstorm in winter—the common folk would also start to entertain wild ideas about omens.
Unsettled, he could no longer focus on the scriptures. He dropped the book on the desk. "Come," he said to the eunuch, "let us go for a walk!"
He would call on Master Lingzang. Right now, the abbot was the only one who could understand him, the only one who could bring him hope.
The clever young eunuch understood at once. He hurried out, questioning monks along the way until he was told that Master Lingzang was still in the main hall, then returned to lead the emperor there.
As night settled over the city, Daxingshan Temple fell into a deep and unnerving silence. Guards patrolled the grounds, and torches cast a flickering light against the stone walls. Ancient trees thronged outside, their branches cloaking the paths that had been tranquil during the day in thick and eerie shadows.
Perhaps it was the drop in temperature, or perhaps the sinister scenery—a shiver went up the young eunuch's spine. He dared not rub his arms with the emperor nearby, but he could feel the fine hairs on his body standing on end.
At last they approached the main hall. Bright light spilled from the cracks in the tightly shut doors and windows. On a blizzard-filled night like this, leaving the doors open would only extinguish the candles.
The young eunuch was about to step forward to announce the emperor's presence when the emperor held up a hand. He took a few steps forward himself and pushed the door open a crack. It was late at night, yet Master Lingzang was still in the hall. The emperor didn't wish to disturb him if he was attending to important matters. He peered carefully inside.
What he saw left him frozen with terror—it was a sight he'd never forget for the rest of his life.
Master Lingzang was indeed in the main hall. Though the hall was lit by bright candlelight, the abbot was the only one there. He sat cross-legged on the floor with a basin placed before him. The vessel was wide and shallow, like the paper-burning basins used in funerary rites, but this wasn't what caught the emperor's attention. He'd glimpsed something far more horrific.
The basin was filled to the rim with bloody entrails. Master Lingzang scooped up gory handfuls, his head lowered as he shoved them into his mouth and chewed. Blood dribbled from the corners of his lips. As the emperor watched, he paused and licked the blood from his hands as if he hadn't had enough.
The emperor's mind went blank. Was he still trapped in his nightmares? He staggered back a few steps, then his legs gave out and he fell to the ground. The young eunuch dove to help him but was dragged down as well.
"Your Majesty? What's wrong? Your Majesty!"
Through the narrow crack in the door, he saw Master Lingzang's head turn toward him. A twisted grin split his blood-smeared face. Trembling in fear, the emperor forced a cry past his frozen throat: "Help, someone! Come quickly!"
As his voice rang out, the sounds of shouts and the distant clash of swords rose from the direction of the monks' quarters by the back courtyard. The emperor whipped his head around. "What's happening?!"
"Protect His Majesty!" The cry went up as the Imperial Guards around the main hall gathered swiftly before him. The emperor finally felt some small measure of relief.
"Shao Yong," he ordered the captain. "Go find out what's going on!" He paused, then pointed at the hall. "And there. Go in and bring out Master Lingzang!"
The guards dispersed, leaving a small group clustered around the emperor, scanning their surroundings with wary expressions.
Something terrible had happened. But the emperor wasn't worried yet. Yu Qingze and the others were still present—these were men who'd fought their way out of the battlefield, famous generals who'd slaughtered countless enemies. Whatever petty ruffians were causing trouble here were no match for them.
Yet just as the thought occurred to him, the guards surrounding the emperor suddenly cried out and crumpled to the ground. Before the emperor could react, two men in black grabbed him and dragged him into the hall.