Zanxing (Retranslated)

Extra 13 - Flower (2) — Bu Jiang x Mingjing

Zizhen had indeed laid hands on Mingjing a year after arriving at Liuxuan Temple.

A year’s time was enough for the boy to figure out Mingjing’s habits and weaknesses. And when someone is bent on revenge, they will think of all sorts of methods, even if they are just a child.

Moreover, Zizhen was the child of a bandit and had seen many bloody scenes from a young age.

He poisoned Mingjing.

The poison was a forbidden drug from the demon clan, specifically targeting Buddhist practitioners like Mingjing. Among the Demon Clan’s forbidden poisons, this one was particularly effective against cultivators like Mingjing. Within Yue Mountain, Mingjing’s cultivation was the highest, and there were many Buddhist practitioners in Liuxuan Temple. Where there are people, there will always be both open and covert conflicts.

There were many who wanted Mingjing dead, not just Zizhen.

The young monk sat in the Buddhist hall, with blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, staining his monk’s robe.

The youth’s eyes burned with the fire of hatred, like a ferocious beast, slowly closing in on him.

Suddenly, a woman’s light laugh was heard. She seemed to descend from the heavens, gracefully landing on the offering table in the Buddhist hall, looking at the scene before her with a gloating expression, and said, “Ah, the wolf cub finally bit someone.”

Mingjing remained silent.

Over the past year, Zizhen had made several attempts on him, but Mingjing always skillfully avoided them. Each time, Bu Jiang had not intervened. She merely watched them quietly from the shadows, as if observing a dull, repetitive play.

Today, however, she was finally tired of this repetitive act.

Mingjing’s lips continually oozed black blood, and his face was as pale as fragile paper, ready to crumble to dust with the slightest touch.

The forbidden drug of the demon clan was extremely poisonous to cultivators.

Zizhen, with a heart set on destroying everything, charged at him, but Bu Jiang merely flicked her wrist, causing the youth to be thrown away.

Killing a mortal was easy for her.

Bu Jiang looked down from above with a smile and said, “How can you repay kindness with enmity?”

“He is no benefactor,” Zizhen gritted his teeth and struggled, “He killed my father. He is my father’s murderer!”

Bu Jiang thought for a moment, her face showing a hint of difficulty: “Human emotions and grudges are always complex. It’s hard for me to understand. Since it’s unclear, I might as well kill you first. If you’re dead, things will be much simpler.”

Her fingers were about to grip Zizhen’s throat.

Mingjing looked up and said, “Don’t kill him.”

Bu Jiang slowly turned her head.

The monk’s calm voice echoed once more in the Buddhist hall: “Don’t kill him.”

A trace of malice flashed in the woman’s eyes, but she soon smiled, fixing her gaze on Mingjing, and said, “Little Monk, have you forgotten that you are a Buddhist practitioner, not a true Buddha?”

“I killed his father,” Mingjing lowered his eyes, “It’s only natural for him to seek revenge.”

Bu Jiang raised an eyebrow, and the only sound in the hall was the boy’s desperate sobbing.

After a moment, she said, “Alright.” A bright ball of light began to form in her hand.

Zizhen looked at the ball of light, realizing something, and struggled violently: “What are you trying to do?”

In the next moment, the ball of light was forcefully smashed onto his head, and the boy fell silently to the ground.

Mingjing’s gaze tightened.

“Don’t worry.” Bu Jiang clapped her hands, “He’s not dead. I’ve just altered his memory a bit.”

She slowly walked over to Mingjing, half-knelt on the ground until she was at eye level with him, and said with a mix of sigh and jest: “Little Monk, among the men I have liked, you are the softest-hearted one.”

“Even with your life at stake, you still spare him a life. Even the Bodhisattvas in heaven wouldn’t be as generous as you.”

Mingjing remained silent, his expression calm and peaceful.

“What did you do to Zizhen?” he asked.

Bu Jiang smiled leisurely: “You’re in such a state, yet still concerned about others. He’s fine. I used the Heart-Extinguishing Needle to seal his memories. In the future, he won’t come to trouble you again.”

“The Heart-Extinguishing Needle?” Mingjing was taken aback.

“Do you want to learn?” Bu Jiang looked at him, “If you can’t forget me in the future and are troubled by love every day, you can use this method to seal your memories and forget me.”

Her voice carried a subtle temptation.

Mingjing avoided her gaze and gently replied, “No need.”

Bu Jiang seemed to have anticipated his answer and smiled noncommittally.

The monk’s body swayed, as if he might fall at any moment. The woman supported his shoulder and gazed into his eyes.

His eyes were clear and vast like a long lake, while her gaze was captivating, like tendrils of passion entwining him.

“You’ve been poisoned by a demon,” she said casually, “Ordinary medicines can’t save you.”

The monk remained silent.

“Fortunately, you met me,” she said.

After speaking, she gently leaned in, her lips touching the monk’s forehead.

Black mist slowly withdrew from his forehead, and he felt the pain inside him gradually easing. But the kiss did not stop; it was like a flower in the mortal realm that would never wither, emitting a deadly, even more intense poison than before.

Just as he was about to succumb to it, the flower withdrew.

“All done.” Bu Jiang stood up and said, “The poison has been resolved.”

“And the wolf cub no longer remembers you. Little Monk, before I leave, I can finally rest assured.”

The monk’s heart stopped for a moment, and he heard his own voice: “You’re leaving?”

“Didn’t I say that?” She turned back, looking at him with a smile that was neither truly smiling nor truly sad, “The day you fall in love with me is the day I must leave.”

He remained silent.

“Little Monk,” she tilted her head, her face showing a hint of lightheartedness, as if she were very pleased, with no trace of sorrow at their parting, “Although I dislike soft-hearted men the most, I still like you.”

“To move a Buddhist practitioner’s heart is indeed a sin.”

“Fortunately, I am of the demon clan, so I won’t feel guilty about it. Time to go.”

She drifted away like a flower, gracefully and decisively, with no entanglements. She left Liuxuan Temple, departed from Yue Mountain, and walked into the distance where he could no longer see her.

The monk tightened his grip on the prayer beads.

In truth, he had lied.

He knew that this woman came to Liuxuan Temple not for him. The place was rich in spiritual energy. She had just been injured and needed to recuperate here. Everything she said to him was deceit.

He also knew that Bu Jiang should have left six months ago.

He deliberately brought Zizhen back to Liuxuan Temple, knowing that Bu Jiang would be watching from the sidelines. He engaged in a struggle with Zizhen to delay the parting. Until this time, when Zizhen acted, Bu Jiang appeared and thoroughly eliminated the future trouble.

With the future trouble removed, she should leave.

He saw a flower but could not retain its departure, even if it meant lying to the Buddha.

“When will you leave, Benefactor?”

“The day you fall in love with me.”

She leaned closer, with a cunning smile in her eyes: “So when will you fall in love with me?”

The prayer beads glowed softly under the light, and he recalled the first time he met Bu Jiang in the mountains.

She was by the stream, beside the blue stones, casually rubbing the scar on her ankle. Upon hearing movement, she looked up, concealing the faint demonic aura around her, and gave him a bright smile: “Little Monk, I’ve sprained my ankle. Could you help me up?”

In truth, he had loved her from the very beginning.