Chapter 16 — Deep in the Ancient Temple a Young Girl Hides
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 2 of 3
His fist suddenly opened; palm and five fingers quivered, the air before his palm was violently compressed, then exploded, blasting the river's surface into flying spray.
"Still no good. I haven't managed Palm Thunder.
" Shen Mu was somewhat disappointed. Even the lowest level of Lord Huo's Eightfold Thunder Roar required Palm Thunder: a fist, a palm, bursting with the thunder's roar — not only soul-shaking, but terrifying in its power.
And at its higher levels it became a divine power, the command of thunder — far beyond anything he could reach now. Racing on, he took a bamboo staff from his back. Its tip jabbed and tapped, and what he wielded was no common staff art but spear art.
He had learned the staff from the Blind Elder, and the Blind Elder's staff art was spear art: the great spear like a raging dragon churning the river, coiling, thrusting, piercing, flicking — every strike sending the river water tumbling after the staff.
Shen Mu put the bamboo staff back and took a great iron hammer from his back, unleashing the hammer art the smith, the Silent Smith, had taught him. The hammer art was plain and clumsy, its force immense, utterly ponderous — the very opposite extreme from the swiftness of his running!
After a long while he felt his qi running short, his body weary, his strength nearly spent; only then did he look around and see that he had come far from Hidden Remnant Village, a hundred and more li downstream. "Without noticing, I've run this far?
" Shen Mu saw an islet in the middle of the river, the water surging past on either side.
His heart stirred, and he charged straight for it. A moment later his feet found solid ground, and he stepped onto the islet.
The islet was not large, like a little hill in the river's heart, no more than a li across, rising some forty zhang above the water, thick with grass and trees.
In the dense woods no birdsong could be heard, only the splashing of water. Not far ahead of Shen Mu a temple hid among the trees, its broken walls showing through. Shen Mu walked up to it. The temple was ruined, long neglected, cobwebs everywhere — though it would do well enough for a rest.
He stopped before the temple. One of its doors had fallen; the interior was dim, but he could still make out a great Buddha standing within, its image gilded with gold leaf that gleamed. Yet no one had come here for a very long time; much of the gold leaf had flaked away, revealing the bronze beneath, and on the bronze were written strange characters, crooked and twisting, as though formed of tadpoles.
And about the Buddha's body ran thick chains, chains that bound the image fast. Shen Mu then saw that these chains stretched out from the little temple, all the way to the islet's shore, plunging into the Surging River.
"How strange.
Why do these chains bind this great Buddha. .
.
Blind Grandpa says that when you enter a temple you burn incense — that's the rule. I've brought no incense, so I can only rest before the temple.
" Shen Mu cleared his throat and bowed to the temple: "This humble one is a man of Hidden Remnant Village, his home beside the river. Passing by your honored temple, I would borrow this precious ground to rest, and I am uneasy at having disturbed its master.
" He hesitated, then went on reciting the words the Blind Elder had taught him: "This humble one has been weak of kidney and frail of body since childhood, his primal yang leaking away early. If there be immortal sisters in this temple, do not come to harm me.
" The Blind Elder was an old hand of the rivers and lakes, and Shen Mu of course believed his words without question; if the Blind Elder taught him to say it, then he said it, and surely nothing would go wrong. His prayer done, Shen Mu sat on the stone steps, took off the iron shoes on his feet, unfastened the iron weights bound to his calves, and breathed in and out, restoring his strength.