The Egoless Sect's core was the Nairatmya Devi Temple on Tiannü Mountain. Based on what they could glean online, Chen Li and Asha concluded that the sect was deeply mysterious—not even a proper Tantric Buddhist order. If their guess was right, a cult lurked beneath the surface.
Cults couldn't be handled by ordinary means. But since the Egoless Sect still wore the guise of a legitimate religious organization, an outright military crackdown was impractical. Asha proposed a strategy: courtesy before force. She would have her personal guard, Ala, position the soldiers in hiding around the mountain, while she and Chen Li would conduct an official "religious visit"—enter the sect's compound under official pretext, gather intelligence, and if evidence of wrongdoing emerged, immediately call in the troops to secure the site.
Chen Li initially opposed the plan—the reconnaissance phase would put them in genuine danger. He didn't worry about himself, but he refused to let Asha take such a risk.
"I'm a Borodinov. I'm conducting an official visit—would they dare harm me?"
Asha's reasoning won him over. He could only insist she bring extra guards and keep Lao Shan close. With a larger entourage, they'd look more like proper officials anyway.
To complete the charade, Asha sent an official letter in the name of the Yanzhou Corps, requesting the sect receive their delegation—but gave them no time to prepare. They sent the letter in the morning and arrived at Tiannü Mountain that same afternoon.
There were already hot spring lodges and businesses on the mountain, so the area had internet—the temple even had its own Wi-Fi. That saved Chen Li trouble; he'd brought signal flares and radios, but a phone worked just fine.
The sect's head monk was known as "Mebarbai Khang Pa"—a Buddhist appellation meaning "Blazing House", and reading "Huozhai", symbolizing the suffering of the mundane world. Thus, in common parlance, people called him Master Huozhai. When Chen Li and Asha arrived unannounced, Master Huozhai received them with great warmth. He led a group of followers to greet them at the temple gate, clasped his hands together, bowed, and intoned: "Tashi Delek."
They returned the gesture in unison: "Tashi Delek."
"Patron Chen, Patron Wei," said Master Huozhai, "this humble temple is honored to receive two such outstanding young talents today. It is this temple that must beg your forgiveness for its unpreparedness."
The old monk's formal, archaic speech caught them off guard. Chen Li exchanged a glance with Asha—clearly, as an Oroccian, she was completely lost when it came to Buddhist etiquette. He had to take the lead. "Master, you are too generous. We should be the ones apologizing for our unannounced visit."
Master Huozhai chuckled. "Patron Chen, you are too modest. That we should meet on this day—this very meeting is karmic affinity—heaven's will at work." He gestured for them to enter. "Please."
Chen Li could only mimic the gesture, saying "Please" in return, and guided the somewhat bewildered Asha through the gate.
"Do all Serians know this Buddhist stuff?" Asha whispered. "You never mentioned it."
"My mother was a devout Buddhist. I picked it up by osmosis."
The Nairatmya Devi Temple was a classic Tantric monastery perched on Tiannü Mountain—newly built, but substantial. The main hall's golden roof was made of gilt bronze tiles, flanked by characteristic Dharma wheels and golden deer. As they toured the temple, Master Huozhai narrated: "The Nairatmya Devi Temple is the largest Buddhist temple in this region and the birthplace of our Egoless Sect. Around Tiannü Mountain, there is a three-kilometer circumambulation path for our followers' daily practice. Pilgrims first walk the path while spinning prayer wheels and chanting. But since you are not of our faith, feel free to explore without following our rituals."
Inside, the master guided them to light butter lamps. He chanted a brief sutra and said: "Offering butter lamps illuminates wisdom and dispels ignorance. May this small act kindle the light of discernment within you."
They were then led to the main hall, where the statue of Nairatmya Devi stood enshrined. Nairatmya Devi—the embodiment of Prajna wisdom, mother of all Buddhas—was depicted in deep blue, with three eyes on a single face, two arms. She wore a crown of skulls, held a vajra chopper in her right hand and a blood-filled skull cup in her left, a staff leaning against her left shoulder. Her expression was ferocious, fangs bared, adorned with bone ornaments, wearing a tiger-skin skirt, standing in a posture of ease atop a lotus and lunar disc.
Both Chen Li and Asha recoiled. The statue was so lifelike it was terrifying—less like a Buddha and more like a demonic entity. Surrounding it were countless bone implements: kapala bowls, skull incense burners, thigh-bone trumpets, cham masks, and thangka paintings on human skin. They didn't look old, but each was chilling to behold.
"Patrons, you must find our Devi's image quite different from other Buddha statues you have seen?" Master Huozhai had noticed their alarm. He spoke softly, his tone taking on a didactic cadence: "Nairatmya Devi is the emissary of wisdom, the embodiment of supreme realization. The kapala in her left hand is our sect's sacred implement—it represents the soul and vitality of all sentient beings. The vajra chopper in her right symbolizes severing the six root afflictions at their very source."
"Most Buddha statues I've seen are serene and compassionate," Chen Li said carefully. "Yours is certainly... different."
"This is the wrathful form—it embodies our sect's true teaching. Our order is named the Egoless—we practice the generation stage. Contemplate yourself, and rouse the pride of Buddhahood. For ego-clinging resides not only in the mind but is solidified in the very sinews of the body. One must shatter the energetic knots to attain the Egoless Realization. Fall not into existence, fall not into non-existence. Thus, egolessness is the Great Self."
Chen Li and Asha stared at each other, their eyes asking in unison: Did you understand any of that? Their blank expressions answered.
Master Huozhai paid no mind to their confusion—he simply presided over the ritual: "Patrons, the auspicious hour is upon us. To pay homage to Nairatmya Devi, you must perform prostration. If you would be so kind."
"Prostration" meant full-body kowtows—the origin of the term "to prostrate in worship." Chen Li was deeply reluctant, but he had to follow local customs, especially since they were here undercover. There was no point creating trouble over formalities. Seeing Asha's confusion, he whispered: "Just follow my lead."
Chen Li knelt on the cushion, hands flat on the floor, and bowed his head three times. Master Huozhai chanted the three-syllable mantra "Om Ah Hum," brought out a kapala bowl, touched it to Chen Li's crown, and recited "Om Mani Padme Hum." The skull bowl was small—clearly made from a child's cranium—and gave Chen Li an uneasy shiver as it touched his head. Asha copied him. Afterward, she whispered: "What was that?"
"Patron Wei, that was our blessing ritual—it purifies karmic obscurations and transmits mind-to-mind." The master had overheard and explained. He then guided them to offer more butter oil, completing the formal worship before they left the hall.
The sun hung low on the western ridge, painting the sky gold. Master Huozhai led them to the temple's rooftop for a panoramic view of Tiannü Mountain. It was a modest spur of the Yantu range—not particularly majestic—but it was early autumn, and the foliage had begun to turn. Bathed in sunset, the mountain gleamed like gold, complementing the gilded temple—a striking sight.
The master briefly described the scenery, then pointed to a mountain estate to the south: "Patrons, this estate is also our sect's property—with a long history. It contains a hot spring that flows continuously, its rocks covered in emerald-green sublimates, like a dragon spitting pearls—hence its name, Dragon Pearl Spring. We have prepared a modest banquet and readied the hot spring for you. Please stay the night. Tomorrow morning, we shall hold an abhisheka ceremony—we would be honored by your presence."
"Master, your kindness is most appreciated. We would be honored."
The estate hosting the banquet lay south of the temple—from afar it looked unremarkable, but once inside, they found it was a classical Kantoese-style garden, complete with dry landscapes and hillside gardens. The overall atmosphere was serene, contemplative, Zen-like.
Accompanied by their guards, they followed Master Huozhai through the garden, listening to his explanations, and were soon led to the main hall. A crowd was already waiting—chattering and laughing around the dining tables, the mood lively.
When the master entered, the crowd quieted, clasped their hands, and intoned in unison: "Tashi Delek, Master Huozhai."
He returned the greeting and introduced the guests: "Tashi Delek, brothers and sisters. Today, buddha-light shines upon us as we welcome two distinguished visitors—Patron Chen Li from Jinshui and Patron Wei Zishan from Yanzhou. Let us all welcome them!"
Another chorus of "Tashi Delek" followed. The master then introduced the attendees: "These are our followers and their families. We often gather here for fellowship and Dharma study. Please make yourselves at home—if anything is amiss, forgive us."
"Master, you are too generous. We came unannounced, and you have received us so warmly—we are deeply humbled!" Chen Li, acting on reflex, raised his glass: "Allow me to drink this cup as a gesture of apology and respect."
The spicy aroma of the wine hit his tongue—and his mind caught up. Why is there alcohol here? He looked at the master in surprise, then around the table—everyone seemed perfectly at ease. He felt increasingly off-balance. He glanced at Asha for help, but she looked equally lost. Chen Li held his glass, unsure whether to set it down or keep it raised—an awkward pause.
Master Huozhai resolved the tension: "Patron Chen, you need not be concerned. Our sect cultivates the Egoless State—forgetting the self, all dharmas equal, turning poison into nectar. Thus, we observe no prohibitions. This too is the principle that egolessness is the Great Self." He poured himself a glass and raised it to the company: "Let us toast Patron Chen together."
Chen Li sat back down, feeling disoriented. If alcohol was permitted, then the lavish spread of delicacies was hardly an issue. Servers moved among the guests, attending to the meal; people conversed and laughed—a scene of genuine festivity.
"Patron Chen, you may not know our sect's history?" The master addressed him again. "Our lineage is eight hundred years old. The founder was titled 'Dorje Chang'—the Vajra-holder Buddha, a great adept. Legend says he was vouchsafed more than three centuries in this very body and attained the rainbow body. The Egoless Realization is our true teaching—entering the Egoless State, realizing the Egoless Dharma, attaining indestructible vajra-body. In Yanzhou, from merchants to officials, many are our followers. The Dharma is boundless—egolessness is the Great Self."
"Master, are you saying that even high-ranking officials in Yanzhou belong to the Egoless Sect?"
"A monk does not speak falsely. I relate but what is so."
The master introduced various guests—local business owners, town officials, even lay practitioners from Yanzhou City. Chen Li paid little heed to the boasting; after making the rounds of obligatory toasts with the sect's senior members, he began observing the attendees more closely.
The guests fell into two groups. Most of the adults were unremarkable, like strangers on the street. But many had brought children—none older than ten, many with distinctly non-Serian features. Chen Li could even identify some as Seven Islanders—clearly unrelated to the adults who accompanied them. And unlike typical children their age, they were unnaturally quiet, heads bowed, eyes darting in fear, barely touching their food.
"Patron Chen, you seem curious about the children." The master had noticed Chen Li's lingering gaze. He raised his glass and approached: "Our sect encourages followers to adopt homeless children—it is a practice to overcome ego-clinging, cultivate forbearance, and walk the Egoless Path. It is part of our cultivation. To take in the abandoned, to raise the orphaned—this is to practice patience, to walk the path of non-attachment, and to tame the grasping self."
Chen Li wasn't convinced, but couldn't fault the explanation. He returned the toast: "Master, your compassion is a great merit."
"Master Huozhai's power is boundless—he saved our entire family!" A middle-aged woman with graying temples came to toast them: "I had a uterine tumor—I was desperate, counting down my days. But with the master's guidance, I realized the Egoless State and received Nairatmya Devi's protection. Her blessing surpassed any surgery or medicine—I am now completely cured without any treatment! If not for the master, I would be dead. He saved us all!"
"Our true teaching is to break the knots and realize egolessness. Expel ego-clinging from your body, sever greed, hatred, and delusion, enter the Egoless State, visualize the deity, transform into radiant light, and receive Nairatmya Devi's protection—eliminating all karmic obstructions, all illness."
Chen Li had run a crash course on Tantric Buddhism via AI after leaving the temple, so he could now keep up. To the classic "tumor patient" story, he posed a question his AI had prepared—a standard one in Tantric circles: "Master, if one clings to the thought of recovery in the name of egolessness, does that not itself become ego-clinging? Is not the very desire to be cured a form of attachment that the cultivation of egolessness should dispel?"
Master Huozhai visibly faltered. He looked at Chen Li with renewed scrutiny, studied him for a long moment, and fell into deep thought. Finally, he spoke, his tone now less confident: "Patron Chen has been graced with exceptional insight—a deep karmic connection with the Dharma. Indeed, in ultimate truth, healer, healed, and healing are all devoid of self-nature—like illusions. Our sect's contemplation uses appearances as skillful means, until subject and object are non-dual. When contemplation matures, primordial awareness naturally manifests. Thus, 'recovery' does not mean physical permanence—it means using contemplation to release attachment to the body, entering the Egoless State, eliminating karmic obstructions, and transforming consciousness. The manifestation of healing, or its absence, is karmic in nature; the true aim is liberation beyond the physical."
More clouded words. Chen Li couldn't exactly pull out his phone and ask the AI how to respond. He offered a relatively safe follow-up: "Per the master's exposition: is the eradication of karmic obscurations correlated with recovery? Or should one rather refrain from clinging to recovery, lest new dharma-attachment arise?"
The master stared at Chen Li, eyes wide—as if unable to believe such a question had come from him. His fingers stopped moving through the prayer beads. After another long silence, he spoke: "The transformation of illness—even the surrender of life—has its meaning according to karmic law. For the deeply faithful, grace appears in wrathful form; contemplations of Nairatmya Devi reveal the truth of egolessness. For the doubting, karma manifests—and the Dharma is blameless." He paused, then continued before Chen Li could reply: "Patron Chen, our sect's dialectic on egolessness can lead to the preliminary signs of the deathless rainbow body. Tomorrow, we hold an abhisheka ceremony—you are welcome to witness it."
Chen Li had no idea what "deathless rainbow body" meant, but he understood the invitation—and it was exactly the kind of access he needed. He accepted gladly.
Before the evening ended, other senior members chimed in, eager to share their lineage's lore: "Our founder was vouchsafed more than three centuries—at his rainbow dissolution, relics rained for seven days. If you seek the void of the Dharma, our sect offers indestructible vajra-body; if you debate life and death, we point directly to eternal abiding."
"By our methods, one can transform the karmic conditions of the physical body and gradually attain the youthful form. A second-generation disciple practiced for years—his white hair turned black, his lost teeth regrew."
"Our cultivation's aim is to transform the five aggregates and attain Buddhahood in this very body!"
After the banquet, the master strongly recommended they bathe in the Dragon Pearl Spring, claiming it had powerful healing properties—promoting muscle growth, blood circulation, and bone strength. Some local businesses would buy spring water from the estate at high prices, using it as a marketing gimmick.
When they reached the bath, however, they found it was a Kantoese-style layout—the spring was divided by a bamboo screen into men's and women's sections.
Chen Li was ready quickly and soaked for what felt like ages before hearing Asha's voice and the splash of water from the other side. "This feels just like an anime," she said.
"Asha, what do you make of that old monk? No monastic discipline, speaks in riddles, claims their secret methods can cure illness and prolong life. Not to mention those terrifying statues and implements—and all those adopted children, which is seriously unsettling." Chen Li had been bursting with questions and unloaded them all as soon as she arrived. He had no one else to consult—Lao Shan was dutifully guarding the entrance.
Asha's voice sounded displeased: "You're so unromantic—do you have to talk about the monk right now?"
Chen Li was baffled: "Isn't that why we're here?"
"Wow, the old monk wasn't exaggerating—this spring water is really good." Asha completely ignored him. "See that green precipitate on the rocks? Hydrogen sulfide corrosion. It's a classic sulfur spring—high medicinal value."
As an Yanzhou native, Asha had grown up soaking in hot springs and knew far more about them than Chen Li. He joked: "So that's why it smelled a bit funky."
"It's been a long time since we've soaked together, hasn't it?"
Chen Li thought: "We haven't since middle school."
"You always rush through your visits to see Grandfather—never even tried our family's hot springs."
"Honestly, I'm not that into hot springs."
"Our family's springs are famous—you can drink them too. Especially in winter, when everything's white with snow and only here is warm and green." Asha's voice grew softer until Chen Li had to strain to hear. "But Mount Yantu will always be there, and our family's springs will always be waiting for you."
Looking up at the clear night sky, the moon bright and stars scattered, it was a rare fine evening. After soaking a while, Chen Li sat on the stone steps and said: "Asha, did you notice how the children acted at dinner? It wasn't normal. And why adopt so many Seven Island children?"
Asha was silent for a long while, then spoke in a strained tone: "Maybe they just like Seven Island children."
"And the temple—I checked—it was built less than ten years ago, exactly matching the sect's rise."
"But the estate is old—though it was renovated a few years ago."
Chen Li was surprised: "How do you know?"
"I'm an art student—professional judgment. And don't you find it odd? A Tantric sect with a Kantoese-style garden and hot spring?"
"Odd?" Chen Li pulled out his phone. The estate had indeed been an old building before being remodeled into a Kantoese garden.
"It's like using a knife and fork for a hamburger—not impossible, but strange. The kind of thing only we art theory students do for thesis innovation."
Chen Li laughed: "That's not innovation—that's just mashing things together."
Asha ignored him: "What did you say to the old monk? I didn't understand a word."
"I guessed there'd be a healing story and had the AI prep questions. But I didn't understand a word that bald fraud was saying either—good thing I recorded it." He reached for his phone to feed the debate transcript to the AI.
"Can we analyze the statue photos too? I secretly took some."
"Don't let them hear—photographing Buddha statues is highly disrespectful to believers."
Asha snorted dismissively: "Believers? How many battalions do they have? Besides, using children's skulls as bowls—even the Buddha would be furious!"
"Those are ritual implements—kapalas. Tantrism believes the brain contains the soul and vitality, and the skull is closest to the brain, so it has the strongest spiritual power."
"Stop—it's disgusting."
The next morning, they were invited to attend the abhisheka ceremony at the temple.
"Abhisheka" literally means "empowerment"—the most sacred and secret transmission rite in Tantric Buddhism. The master transmits the lineage's power and blessings to disciples; only those who have received abhisheka may practice the secret teachings. The ceremony is usually shrouded in absolute secrecy—outsiders witnessing it, hearing secret mantras, is considered severe dharma-theft. Thus, inviting Chen Li and Asha to observe was a gesture of immense trust and goodwill.
The ceremony took place in the rear hall of the temple. A mandala of intricate colored sand had been prepared, with curtains and guardian monks stationed around. It was a very different atmosphere from the previous day's tour—solemn and imposing.
Few people attended—besides Master Huozhai and senior monks, only a handful of candidates for initiation. Abhisheka was a complex process, typically lasting several days. The first stage was purification and preparation—the master consecrating the mandala, the disciples taking vows and generating bodhicitta, inner abhisheka, mandala offerings—and only after thorough preparation did the formal ritual begin.
Today was the core ceremony; the candidates had completed their preparations and were ready to enter the mandala. The mandala was a colorful sand painting—Tantrism believed it contained all phenomena, each grain of sand representing a Buddha, carrying profound power. Four monks had worked for seven or eight days to construct it. The Nairatmya Devi Temple's mandala was relatively simple—less than a meter square, possibly built hastily, with fewer deities. Led by the master, the disciples circumambulated the mandala, paying homage to the buddhas within.
Ordinarily, the disciples would visualize the deity—imagine themselves becoming the Buddha, receiving his light. Master Huozhai emphasized that the sect's true teaching was entering the Egoless State—free, clear, luminous. To aid this, he produced a small vial of "hell-water." After drinking it, the disciples would receive blessings.
Chen Li's brow furrowed as he watched them drink—he distinctly smelled alcohol and soda, like a cocktail. Within minutes, their breathing slowed, their eyes grew distant, their tense expressions relaxed into placidity. The master proclaimed they had entered the Egoless State.
It was only seven in the morning. Chen Li was more inclined to think they'd been drugged than to believe in that nebulous "Egoless State."
As the disciples entered their altered states, the ceremony reached its climax—the formal abhisheka. Details varied among sects, but the general progression was similar: vase abhisheka, secret abhisheka, wisdom abhisheka, and word-meaning abhisheka. Vase abhisheka—the most common—involved sprinkling blessed water or nectar over the disciple's head; it was an initial empowerment to subdue the five poisons, break attachments, and awaken buddha-nature.
But at this point, Master Huozhai left the rear hall through a back door. Chen Li and Asha exchanged glances—seeing no reaction from the others, they assumed it was part of the ritual and dared not ask. He returned with a silver vase and presided.
Forgot to prepare the blessed water? Chen Li thought, eyes fixed on the vase. For some reason, since the master's return, a deep unease had settled in him. He could have sworn he smelled a faint metallic tang—the scent of blood. It made his hair stand on end, his heart pound.
As the liquid poured from the vase, Chen Li's eyes widened—his ears rang, his spine chilled, his blood seemed to flow backward. The blood scent was no illusion. The silver vase was pouring out crimson blood.
The master, expressionless, poured the blood over the disciples' heads. They emerged from the blood-soaked ritual as if rising from a pool of gore, their faces peaceful and content—a sight of hellish horror in the dim temple light.
Chen Li's eyes bulged, his mouth dry, sweat pouring. His right hand instinctively went to his waist, to his pistol. He chambered a round, disengaged the safety, raised the gun to the ceiling, and pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The deafening gunshot hit like a pause button—freezing everyone in place. Then, a cry from outside, and the rear hall door crashed open. A female officer's command rang out:
"Yanzhou Corps! Nobody move!"
An entire platoon of Yanzhou Corps soldiers flooded in, securing all monks and followers. Ala, Asha's personal guard, approached and saluted: "Mr. Chen gave us prior notice."
But Ala leaned in to whisper something to Asha. Asha's eyes shot wide, she sprang from her seat, shrieking "Go!"—her voice trembling—pushed past the master and intervening monks, and bolted out the door toward the rear of the hall.
Chen Li followed with gun drawn, bursting through the back door. The stench hit him like a wall—putrid and nauseating. He held his breath instinctively. His eyes struggled to adjust to the dim light. The room was spacious, with a table in the center. Once his vision cleared, as the stench and buzzing flies overwhelmed him, the scene came into focus: a young boy—maybe twelve—strapped to the table, his face deathly pale, drenched in blood, a long gash across his abdomen, entrails discarded on the ground. He was lifeless. Blood splattered the floor, walls, and ceiling. The buzzing grew to a roar—black clouds of flies swarming in the darkness. As the flashlight beam hit them, they exploded like a thunderbolt over everyone's heads.
Asha gagged and vomited on the spot.
Chen Li felt acid rising in his throat, forced it down, took her arm, and led her outside. He helped her lean against a tree and patted her back as she retched.
"It's okay, it's okay. I'm here."
When there was nothing left in her stomach, she finally stopped. She pushed away the water Ala offered, looked up—eyes red, tears and mucus streaming, hands clenched into trembling fists. She took several deep, ragged breaths before grinding out: "Why? How could they?"
Chen Li handed Asha to Ala's care and returned to the rear hall. Master Huozhai and the senior monks had been bound by Lao Shan's men. Seeing Chen Li, the master looked utterly incredulous: "Mr. Chen—what is this? What is the meaning of this?"
His reaction caught Chen Li off guard. "What do you think we're doing?"
"Mr. Chen, this must be a misunderstanding!" The master was panicked, sweating, no longer using his archaic speech. "You represent the authorities! If we have somehow given offense, name it—there is no need for this! We were not deceiving you—we truly have the method for immortality!"
"Immortality?" Chen Li recalled the previous night's boasting—they had indeed repeatedly mentioned longevity.
"Yes! We have the means—we can extract adrenochrome! It turns white hair black, extends life, preserves youth!"
"Adrenochrome?"
"As a gesture of good faith, we prepared some for you!" The master pointed desperately at a small box on the altar. Lao Shan fetched it. Inside was a chilled container with two sealed vials of pink solution.
"These two vials are high-purity—worth a million. That should prove our sincerity. Whatever else you want, just name it! But this—why?"
Chen Li finally understood: "You thought we came to officially recognize you, and you prepared a fortune in gifts?"
The master was speechless. He stammered for a while before managing: "What else would it be?"
Chen Li didn't know how to respond. He ran a hand through his hair and paced out of the hall. Leaning against the doorframe, he took a deep breath and gazed at the golden temple. The sun was high, the weather clear. A light breeze drifted through the door, disturbing the colorful sand of the mandala—scattering the intricate design into nothingness.
It was then he noticed a couplet on the rear hall's doors:
House ablaze—greed as fuel, hate as wind, delusion's flames;
Karma clear—evils piled, woes amassed, heaven's net.
Mirror shines bright!
