Chapter 38 — The Ancient Buddha's Mahayana Ferries the Lost

He looked at Mingxing's hand; there, a drop of blood was running down along his fingertip. His palm had been pierced by that spear. Of course, Shen Mu's arms were a blurred mass of blood and flesh, and his wounds were far more severe. Shen Mu drew a long breath; his vital force suddenly blazed, and he launched himself at Mingxing. Alone upon the Eastern Sea, Bearing Spring Thunder! This time he used not the aspect of water but the aspect of fire — like a river of blazing flame falling from heaven and pouring into the sea, as though to set the ocean itself alight! The young monk Mingxing did not stir. He raised his hand to meet the attack, his eyes dazzlingly bright: "Without the mind-art, it is all delusion, the mere husk of form." What he performed was also Alone upon the Eastern Sea, Bearing Spring Thunder. The instant his palm moved, a thunderclap burst from its center — one thunderclap, shattering the soul. The thunder sounded, and Shen Mu's blazing, bitter momentum collapsed on the spot! But in that same instant, fire burst from both of Shen Mu's hands; using his hands as blades, he hacked at Mingxing like a mad fiend! The Butcher's Blade Art — the Sun Scorches a Thousand Piled Waves upon the Eastern Sea! This was an utterly deranged stroke. A butcher's blade art cannot reach its highest power unless the user is mad; it demands the momentum of a great sun newly risen, a thousand waves of the Eastern Sea stacked one atop another, a peerless blade-presence determined to cut through everything, to chop everything to pieces! Chop, chop, chop, chop, chop! A thousand waves piling, a thousand blades piling — nothing can withstand being chopped dead, nothing can withstand being chopped apart! Mingxing's expression changed slightly. But Shen Mu frowned, for he could see the technique Mingxing was about to use — the eighth form of the Thunderclap Eight Formulae: the Myriad-Armed Vajra! The young monk met his hand-blades with his palms, like a Myriad-Armed Vajra, holding off his mad blades! Shen Mu's heart sank. His hands were not true blades; they were hands acting as blades, and Mingxing's defense was extremely strong. It would be no easy task to cut through that palm. "Then be quick! Quicker, quicker still! So quick you cannot catch my blades — Night Raid, Wind and Rain over a Chain of Cities!" Shen Mu was like a man possessed, slashing down in frenzy. There was only one thought in his heart: quick, quick, quick — a quick blade to behead the Buddha! "There is no pig in this world that the Butcher's Blade Art cannot chop to death!" Shen Mu said savagely, his vital force in wild turmoil. Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang— Mingxing parried frantically with the Myriad-Armed Vajra, but a blade suddenly broke through and struck his throat, and the great bell around his body let out a toll. Then the second blade broke through the Myriad-Armed Vajra's defense, cutting the same place on his throat, and again the bell tolled. The third blade, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth! Blade after blade, each faster than the one before, they struck in succession at the same spot on Mingxing's body — his throat! "Senior brother, in those days we studied the same arts under the same roof, and we knew one another intimately. Your Myriad-Armed Vajra has one flaw." Across from the old monk, Old Man Ma said flatly, "It seems you have passed that flaw on to your disciple as well."