HTCYH Ch 36

Chapter 36: The Great Battle

Tu Si listened quietly to everyone’s sharing and summaries before finally asking, “Then where did Liang Tiancai’s Kuman Thong* come from?”

Fang Xia closed her eyes briefly and said, “Li Chun’er dug up Liang Xiu’er’s grave, dissected her corpse, and made the Kuman Thong from it.”

Ke Xian added: “Liang Tiancai’s background is indeed pitiful, but Fang Xia, I need to tell you this—he’s not some good man! He is actually a northern Myanmar warlord. The reason no trace of illegal income shows up under his name is because he has another hidden identity there. His so-called ability to always win at gambling isn’t because of the Kuman Thong—it’s because he himself is the shadow owner of the casino.”

When Tu Si heard mention of Myanmar’s northern region, he instinctively glanced at Ke Xian, then casually shifted his gaze away. He said faintly, “So then, could it be that his city identity being exposed by Li Chun’er and Yang Chengji is actually just another part of his revenge plan? Was he aiming to massacre the entire village?”

Throughout this exchange, Xu Jinyan had been sitting wide-eyed, mouth agape, only capable of blurting out interjections like “Huh?”, “What?”, “Damn!”, “What the hell?” It felt as though he were the only true outsider caught in an endless web of conspiracy, drawn into something fathomless.

Once everyone had shared and pieced together the rough storyline, they suddenly realized Xu Jinyan had not yet revealed his clues.

All eyes turned to him. Xu Jinyan scratched his head and gave a sheepish grin. “Yang Chengji is just a brainless fool being used as someone else’s weapon. Sure, he slept with Liang Xiu’er, but he thought the two were in a relationship. When Liang Xiu’er committed suicide, he accompanied Liang Tiancai to investigate her death. Then he realized he’d been cheated on and in a fit of rage, he lashed out verbally—Liang Tiancai beat him half to death for it. After that, he held a grudge against Liang Tiancai. Later, at a bar, he had a one-night stand with Li Chun’er and basically ended up aboard her pirate ship, so to speak—teaming up with her to plot against Liang Tiancai. He’s basically just a transitional pawn, a filler character.”

Tu Si nodded, then asked, “So how did Liang Tiancai intend to carry out this village massacre plan? Did he drag Li Chun’er and Yang Chengji into some suicide-by-gun plot? And then use that chaos to push the whole village into criminal development so that the police could wipe them all out?”

Ai Lin shook his head. “Not just that. Liang Tiancai orchestrated the villagers into committing crimes that garnered the highest police merits. Selling pornography, drugs—the gambling was the least of it. His acting, his counterintelligence abilities—they’re extraordinary. He is a high-level criminal mind. From Cui Ruxue’s perspective, deception came so easily. Cui resembled Liang Xiu’er by about sixty percent, and that detail alone—once you know Liang Tiancai’s past—almost makes you think of poetic parallels, like kindred souls, blinding you to many crucial clues.

Only after the Captain reminded me did I realize: Liang Tiancai’s affection for Cui Ruxue was genuine, but so was his calculation to take her life. That so-called suicide letter was a trap for Cui. He wanted her to investigate his death, trace it to the village, and lure her into digging up the truth. Then he could kill her cleanly, leaving no mark. Her parents would discover her disappearance and report it to the police. One string of clues would naturally connect to another, leading investigators to Li-Liang Village, revealing it as the crime hub. The police would wipe out the entire village while Liang Tiancai fled abroad ahead of time. Even if the police found him eventually, it would be too late. Truly, he deserves the title—genius, but a genius of crime.”

Fang Xia rubbed her head in shock. “Wait—so this whole thing has been a murder-mystery game? The real ghosts here are people’s hearts?”

Wu Ming nodded. “Originally it should have remained a suspense case. But because it touched upon the Kuman Thong, a ‘god’ intervened. The Kuman Thong’s resentment, the Vajrapani Bodhisattva’s seals—it turned suspense into supernatural. Liang Tiancai spreading a cult may have been his revenge on Li Chun’er. She dissected a corpse to refine the Kuman Thong; Liang Tiancai in turn dissected her to refine another. In a way, it matches his psychology. But Liang himself clearly didn’t believe in gods—his practice of Buddhist vegetarian restraint seems to have been deception. The village was destroyed by his hand, and he in turn perished by the hand of a god. In the end, they’re all villains.”

Tu Si nodded with dawning realization. “So that’s why the final boss is Li Chun’er. Her obsession was the strongest, her faith in the supernatural deepest, her extremity has made her the perfect god’s vessel.”

No sooner did Tu Si finish speaking than the room plunged into darkness. The shattered glass bulb flickered weakly, and in a blink the world flipped from day into night. The group instantly tensed, adopting defensive stances.

“Om-be-dza-ba-ni-hum-pei (嗡。別炸。把利。吽。呸。).” A Sanskrit-style mantra echoed around the house.

Tu Si turned and saw the Vajrapani Bodhisattva’s statue was gone from its altar. Retreating quickly, he said: “Get out of the house!”

But the well-trained team had already dashed outside before his warning. Just as Fang Xia carried Ke Xian out last, a massive vajra cudgel—equal in size to the house—came crashing down, smashing the structure to rubble. Fang Xia was flung a couple meters away by the shockwave, dragging Ke Xian with him.

They looked up at the towering Vajrapani Bodhisattva, six stories tall, preparing for another strike. Fang Xia tossed Ke Xian toward Xu Jinyan, then rolled out of the way, barely dodging the second strike.

Coiled around the Bodhisattva’s right wrist was a black serpent, and atop its head sat the ghost of Li Chun’er. She sat cross-legged, her fingers interlocked in a mudra: middle fingers pressed together, index fingers upright and parted forward, thumbs pressing the ring fingers, the whole held at chest level. Her mouth chanted: “Om-be-dza-ba-ni-hum-pei.”

At each incantation, the Bodhisattva struck again and again. Such colossal blows none of the squad dared resist directly—they scattered to dodge instead. Poor Ke Xian, the frail technician, got tossed about like a ball between Tu Si, Fang Xia, and Xu Jinyan. His shrieks soon turned to retching, and by the end he was rolling his eyes, foaming at the mouth.

As the others scattered into the forest and Wu Ming’s attack drew the Bodhisattva’s full gaze, Tu Si coiled his tendrils around its arm, agilely climbing upward toward Li Chun’er.

But reaching her was not easy. The massive serpent’s head was formed from countless writhing black snakes. They darted quickly, snapping at Tu Si’s tendrils—any touched disintegrated into black muck. Tu Si had to keep flinging new tendrils, swinging, dodging midair while lashing with his white-flame whip to clear fleeting footholds.

Even so, he was bitten on his right arm. This time, however, he was prepared. The moment the venom entered his flesh, he used a dagger to cut away the infected meat, preventing its spread.

Finally, he drew close. His whip slashed—white flames passed through Li Chun’er’s form, which shattered instantly. She was only a phantom projection.

But then he saw her sitting atop the Bodhisattva’s skeletal crown instead. Tu Si pivoted, climbing again.

She kept manifesting randomly across the god’s form, mocking and leading him in a relentless chase. Tu Si, however, showed no frustration—only persistent strikes at each illusion. Li Chun’er eventually grew addicted to the game, discarding her chanting for giggling taunts, turning the chase into a cruel cat-and-mouse game where the mouse teased the cat.

After an unknown length of pursuit, Tu Si’s strength waned. His pace slowed, and another bite tore at his waist. He burned away the snakes with his whip, cut out the poisoned chunk of flesh, and looked up—there stood Wu Ming high upon the Vajra cudgel, fingers weaving seals, chanting like an immortal monk.

The snakes retreated, the Bodhisattva’s motions slowed and stopped. Tu Si mirrored Wu Ming’s gestures, forming the Vajrapani heart-mantra mudra.

Realizing she was being distracted, Li Chun’er panicked. Losing control of the Bodhisattva, she cursed and scrambled back to the crown, chanting hurriedly again.

But before the Bodhisattva could fully reanimate, a sharp whistle pierced the air—drawing her gaze. A hundred meters away, Xu Jinyan leaned casually, a Glock in his left hand, a loudspeaker in his right, whistling derisively.

As soon as he had her attention, Xu grinned slyly and pulled the trigger. The bullet flew straight into her chest. At such distance, even rifles needed careful aim, yet Xu had managed it effortlessly with a handgun—delivering a lethal blow.

Li Chun’er shrieked, exploding into white mist. But in seconds she reformed, unharmed. Enraged, she snarled viciously at Xu, hands weaving seals as she chanted. Her finger pointed toward him—when suddenly he too mirrored her, fingers forming a mudra, one hand pointing at her. Then, with a smirk, he cocked his wrist—the parallel fingers angled outward.

At once, the entire squad mirrored the gesture. From the Bodhisattva’s skeletal jaws, countless spiked chains erupted, wrapping around Li Chun’er and binding her tightly. Even as a spirit, she could not break free.

The Bodhisattva lifted its cudgel once more and brought it down in a crushing blow. Li Chun’er was skewered to the runic center, flames erupting around her. Her screams tore through the night as scarlet fire consumed her body, finally shrinking her into a small red crystal orb. Inside, fire still burned, trapping her in agony—undying, but condemned to despair.

At Xu Jinyan’s whistle, Wu Ming had already flashed to Tu Si’s side, pulling the inexperienced Tu Si away from the Bodhisattva.

When the ritual sealed, the whole squad gathered around the burning runes. There, the black-gold, red-marked serpent once coiled around the Bodhisattva’s wrist slithered to the orb, swallowed it whole, then writhed violently before snapping in half. Its tail writhed, birthing from its torn end a human embryo the size of a fist, still bound to the dangling tail by umbilical cord.

Meanwhile, the serpent’s head sprouted limbs, forming a humanoid body. Then the long snout began biting its own abdomen, tearing out the orb, swallowing it, sprouting again, cutting itself open again. This repeated cycle continued until the serpent was nothing but a head. At last, its skull split apart like a butchered eel, falling still. Its opened flesh was spread evenly, from which five pairs of limbs had grown. At the very center of its head, the red orb still burned—but its flame had turned into a black-purple hue, reeking of corruption.

Tu Si instinctively prepared to purify the corrupted core—but Wu Ming seized his collar, holding him back.

Wu Ming barked sharply: “I told you! Purification must be done under my orders! What were you trying to do? Disobey a direct order? Act on your own? Stand down!”

Startled, Tu Si froze. He could tell this time Wu Ming’s anger was real, not an act. Confused, he stepped back a pace, feeling wronged and uncertain—was this scolding because he had slipped up during battle, or simply because he had disobeyed orders by rushing to purify the crystal?