A heretical cultivator in Bureau 749, I'm the fiercest at pulling out tendons and skinning peop

I am Fa'an.

They said I wasn't human.

The center of the array was spewing out golden light like a seizure, which looked quite warm.

But as they pierced my collarbone and every part of my body, I realized that these things were not warm at all.

It doesn't hurt, it's just cold.

The cold seeps from the very bones and soul, and even the Buddha's light cannot extinguish it.

I sat cross-legged, trying to look like a high-ranking monk, even though I was in shackles.

Only one thought remained in my mind, buzzing around like a song on repeat—

So that's what happened.

So, I'm not a person?

I am the inner demon of my senior brother Faming.

It was the lingering anger he couldn't extinguish when he was lost in meditation, the confusion he felt when he was bewildered while reading scriptures, and the darkest, most unbearable shadow in his heart.

It was those old bald monks in the temple who, through some unscrupulous means, managed to seduce that "dirty thing" from his mind.

No wonder, I've been wandering around Jinshan Temple ever since I can remember.

The abbot said I have good aptitude and a connection with Buddhism.

Let it go... never mind, I won't let it go for now.

They taught me to read, using the winding and complex Sanskrit script;

The scriptures they taught me to recite were the Diamond Sutra and the Surangama Sutra;

Teaching me to meditate is meditation;

The skill you taught me is how to subdue demons.

My senior brother Faming and I slept in the same room, sat on the same meditation cushion, and were taught by the same master.

Whatever he can do, I can do too; whatever he is an expert in, I know it all too well.

We are like reflections in a mirror.

Why is it that I can recite the Diamond Sutra backwards, yet he's always the one getting the praise?

I touched the edge of his mind-reading ability before he did, and the group of monks only showed fear, not a bit of joy.

During the debate, I used witty remarks to shut him up completely, but instead of applause, I received a deep sigh from the abbot that could kill someone, and the undisguised disdain and fear in the eyes of the elders.

Back then, I didn't understand, and I just felt wronged, like God was blind.

I trained like crazy, trying my best to do better. I thought that as long as I was powerful enough that no one could ignore me, they would be able to see me and recognize me, just like they would recognize their senior brother.

I think I actually did it.

In terms of cultivation, I slowly caught up with him; and in my understanding of Buddhism, I seemed to be a bit more flexible than his rigid thinking.

But what did I get in return?

The way they looked at me was even more strange now.

It doesn't feel like looking at a promising junior; it feels more like looking at some inexplicable, creepy thing.

Now I understand everything.

I am the demon within.

How can the inner demons be more capable than the physical body?

This has completely messed things up!

I am just a stepping stone carefully prepared by my senior brother Faming on his path of spiritual practice.

They pulled me out of his mind, stuffed me into his body, and taught me to read, recite scriptures, and learn skills, not so that I could become a human being.

It was so that I could be a mirror, reflecting the evil in my senior brother's heart;

Be a dumping ground for his karma, delusions, and troubles;

Use it as a whetstone to polish his Buddha-like heart.

Once I've absorbed all the filth he should have suffered, once this rock of mine has been firmly crushed, I'll be useless.

It was he, my dear senior brother, who used his supreme Buddhist teachings to purify me and destroy me.

Hey, guess what? That's what you call a pure and clear mind, and perfect merit.

I could hear the sound of their scheme even from inside the camp.

This mercy is so chilling it sends shivers down your spine.

Beautiful, so beautiful.

Ha ha ha ha……

I raised my hand and saw fingers worn smooth and bony from years of tapping the wooden fish and spinning prayer beads.

I wanted to curse, but what came to mind was the saying, "Anger is a fire in the heart that can burn down a forest of merit."

I wanted to tear this damn temple down, but deep in my soul echoed the words, "Put down the butcher's knife and become a Buddha on the spot."

See how capable they are?

They've etched Buddhist principles into my bones and filled my soul.

Even when I try to feel hatred, it feels so weak and wrong.

Hey, even my hatred is pathetic, and it's not even in accordance with the rules.

My arm drooped down, and the chains rattled.

The Buddha's light was still swirling, bright and warm, but I felt even colder. How ironic.

Perhaps, just waiting like this, until the senior brother achieves perfect merit and is liberated by him, would be the best ending for my fake life.

Until that night, the moon was so badly gnawed away by the clouds that it was just a frayed edge, looking terribly pathetic.

"Click...clack..."

Outside the formation, a strange, grating sound came from the outside, like long fingernails scraping against glass, or like rats that had become spirits and were gnawing at the door frame.

I raised my eyes.

Wow, this is something new!

Three dark figures, wrapped up like night-flying bats, squatted outside the formation, their six eyes darting towards me.

One of them was closest, its face almost pressed against the array's light barrier.

That look... I recognize it.

Just like the old man in the temple's pharmacy who looked at his dried, rare herbs, they glowed green, sparkling with curiosity and a slightly creepy, inquisitive spirit.

"Oh my!"

Shen Qianjie tried to suppress his excitement, but his voice trembled with apprehension. "How novel! These bald monks at Jinshan Temple are certainly up to something! They've imprisoned a demon with a physical body inside the formation?"

The man next to him, carrying a knife, exuded a chilling aura and snorted, "Inner demons? Easier to chop them up."

"Chu Hengdao, shut up!" Shen Qianjie and Zhou Langchen glared at him at the same time.

Zhou Langchen turned around, rubbing his hands together like fly legs, his voice so smooth it could be used to stir-fry vegetables: "Little Master... no, this Demon Brother?"

He pressed his face against the smooth wall, winking and saying, "Do you know where all the good stuff at Jinshan Temple is hidden? Can you show me the way?"

I stared at him without saying a word.

I am Faming's inner demon, the "dirty thing" that grows in his mind.

The sutras that circulated in his mind during meditation, the heartbeat when he secretly went to the scripture pavilion to look for a secret manual, the random thoughts he had when he occasionally stared blankly at the old crooked tree on the back mountain where the wine was buried...

As long as he knows something, whether it's a matter of sound reasoning or something shady, I'll at least get some response from him.

As the temple's precious darling, Faming knew a great deal.

Where is the treasure hidden?

The third floor tile on the left on the third floor of the Sutra Repository has an empty space underneath.

The navel of the Buddha statue in the Medicine Buddha Hall can be pried open.

There was a hidden mechanism under the tattered futon in the abbot's meditation room.

I know everything.

But what right do I have to say that?

What good would it do me to tell you?

These three thieves grabbed the treasure and ran off, while I'm stuck here in jail, waiting for my dear senior brother to come and "bring me warmth"?

The moment the thought popped into my head, I couldn't help but laugh at myself.

Yes, that's good.

He didn't think about "monks don't lie," he didn't think about "protecting temple property is glorious," and he didn't think about "quickly informing his fellow monks."

I just feel that there's no benefit for me, so I don't want to talk about it.

happy.

This feels much clearer and more comfortable than reciting those scriptures about "cutting flesh to feed eagles".

I guess I'm actually a pretty pure and pretty decent inner demon.

He's bad in a straightforward way, without any pretense.

Shen Qianjie, who looked at me like I was examining a medicinal herb specimen, leaned closer and carefully scanned me from head to toe.

His eyes suddenly lit up, as if he had discovered a brilliant fart, and his voice even had a hook:

"Hey, I want to ask you something. Tell us where the treasure is, and the three of us brothers will conveniently fish you out of this iron cage. How about it?"

I lifted my eyelids slightly.

The smooth-talking Zhou Langchen immediately chimed in, "Exactly! It's not easy for a demon to acquire a physical body. If it doesn't go out and have some fun, see the world, wouldn't that be a waste!"

Chu Hengdao, holding his sword, snorted again, "Troublesome."

"Shut up, you bastard!" Shen Qianjie and Zhou Langchen said in unison.

Shen Qianjie turned back, rubbing his hands even more vigorously, as if he wanted to rub them together until sparks flew, his tone so fervent it could burn:

"Look at you, brother, this demonic body of yours is conspicuous wherever you go, like a white moon in a pile of coal. But luckily, I happen to have some skills; manipulating flesh and skin, changing one's appearance is a piece of cake for me! I'll cover up this bad luck for you, no problem!"

As he spoke, he actually reached into his robes and pulled out a greasy, twisted storage bag. He probed inside with his spiritual sense and muttered:

"Let me see, do we have enough stock... Human skin? We used it all up last time. Demon molts? Sigh, Old Zhou used that wolf demon skin to prop up the table legs... Crocodile skin? Too rough, doesn't suit your style, brother..."

He rummaged around for a long time, and finally pulled out something, shook it out, and even he was stunned for a moment.

"Uh, it seems like this is the only one left."

I looked up.

Under the moonlight, he was carrying a large, shiny, black dog skin in his hand.

It was a whole dog skin, complete with a tail and four paw covers.

The air was quiet for a brief moment.

Chu Hengdao, who was holding a sword, seemed to twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Zhou Langchen clicked his tongue: "Old Shen, isn't this a bit too shabby? At least use human skin!"

Shen Qianjie was also feeling a bit embarrassed, but he still forced himself to keep going:

"What do you mean 'shabby'? Look at that coat! That quality! A purebred Black-backed Snow-Treading Cloud Dog, it's been dead for at least a hundred or two hundred years, and its fur is still so smooth. It must have been at least a demon king in life! It's just that it's a dog, so... brother, will you make do with this?"

I glanced at the black, oily dog ​​skin that shimmered slightly in the moonlight.

He looked down again and glanced at his own drab, dull outfit.

The image of my senior brother Faming flashed through my mind—his face, forever compassionate and forever immaculate.

I dodged the gazes of those bald monks in the temple as they looked at me, a mixture of disgust, fear, and a barely concealed "we'll see when you're done for" look.

They passed by the glittering, yet colder-than-an-ice-cave glass cage.

Then, I grinned and smiled.

The laughter was a little hoarse, and in the quiet of the night, which was as still as a graveyard, it sounded somewhat eerie.

Dog skin?

What's wrong with the dog skin?

The dog skin is nice.

It can shelter me from the wind and rain, and it can completely cover up my "shameless" inner demon.

It can also take me away from this awful place.

"Okay."

I heard my own voice, dry and lifeless, yet carrying a lightness that I myself couldn't quite figure out.

"So what if it's dog skin?"

"Take me out of here."

"I'll take you to find the treasure."