Chapter 296 City of Crooked Women

North India, Kanyakubja.

This city has its own legends. Or rather, the translation of this city's name in Chinese characters comes from the legends recorded by Xuanzang himself. It goes something like this: the original king here had a hundred daughters, and a deity transformed from an old tree took a fancy to his daughters.

The text records that he 'felt a desire in his heart.'

But none of the king's daughters were willing, so he had to send the youngest and least attractive one.

The deity, whose skin was like withered wood, was furious and cursed the other ninety-nine women to become hunchbacked.

Hence the name, City of Crooked Women.

Xuanzang at the time claimed that he could undo the curse.

When King Harsha inquired about this ancient history, Xuanzang spoke of Buddhist teachings.

He spoke of the Mahayana Buddhist Vajra Sutra, which severs all afflictions and attains the exhaustion of outflows, and can naturally break curses.

Privately, when Wei Yuan asked him,

"You know how to undo curses?"

"I don't."

"Then how will you undo it?"

The monk pondered for a moment, then replied, "By wielding the strength of Vajra and severing all afflictions."

An old man takes a fancy to a young girl, and if he can't have her, he casts a curse. Is this thing a deity?

If it were him, he would have swung his zen staff and smashed it.

That's what's called the strength of Vajra.

Beat that withered wood immortal to death.

Wouldn't that solve the curse?

That's called severing all afflictions.

Of course, he said it with a joking tone, but Wei Yuan felt that with Xuanzang's character, if he encountered such a so-called immortal, he would really send him off on the spot. Judging from the legends, the deity with a face like withered wood was likely a tree demon similar to Granny in *A Chinese Ghost Story*.

As for whether Xuanzang could handle it.

Just ask Granny if she dares to attack the Great Vehicle Heaven of Buddhism, the Liberation Heaven of Buddhism, the Tripitaka Dharma Master, Mahadeva. Wei Yuan even suspected that the tree demon in *A Chinese Ghost Story* couldn't break Xuanzang's defense at all.

However, this Kanyakubja, once a place for debating Buddhist principles, and once the most prosperous city in North India, had long been reduced to ruins.

The Harsha Empire disintegrated after King Harsha's death.

It was never unified again.

Countless kings of unparalleled talent had personally created vast empires, but such great achievements naturally perished after their own deaths. Only the First Emperor, although he died, the unification he created has continued to this day, standing out from countless emperors.

For hundreds of generations, the Qin legal system has been followed.

Now Chang'an is still the city of Chang'an, but Kanyakubja has long become a small town in a county.

Wei Yuan found a place where he could see the original location of the city, casually sat cross-legged, looked at this not-so-prosperous place, and slightly closed his eyes, as if he could still see the Kanyakubja of the past, see the Harsha Empire of the past.

The city walls were strong, the towers faced each other, the flower forests and ponds were bright and clear, and exotic goods from various places gathered here.

The residents were happy and prosperous, and their families were rich.

"It's like a dream..."

Wei Yuan murmured with a smile.

His eyes slightly closed, as if he could still see the scenes of the past. The wind blew through the remains of time, carrying the wind of the past, and landed on the shoulders of the present-day knight errant.

Over there, over there was originally a pool, with lotus flowers of various colors growing. There was the market, with stalls selling fruits and grains lined up in a row. The square was surrounded by sculptures and pools, and monks and sages would exchange and debate with each other, while children would watch attentively.

In the distance was the Sangharama Pagoda, piercing straight into the sea of clouds.

At a small stall, a knight errant from the Tang Dynasty would look up, staring blankly at the clouds, thinking of the flying flowers in Chang'an, while Shi Pantuo sighed beside him. In the loud laughter, a burly king of ancient India strode over.

The Tang Dynasty knight errant raised his head and looked at the king beside him.

The two drank wine here.

"Can't you stay here?"

King Harsha asked again, frowning:

"You can become my strongest general, let Xuanzang stay, he can return to secular life, my sister, the most beautiful woman in all of North India, has already practiced Hinayana Buddhism for him, although she doesn't have the great aspiration to save all living beings, she can restrain her own afflictions."

"No, no."

"We're not staying."

"Why? Do you doubt our friendship?"

"No, of course not!"

"Then why?"

The Tang Dynasty knight errant shook his head and laughed:

"You treat us very well, but this is not home after all."

"Home?"

"Yes."

The knight errant sat cross-legged, his body swaying, his ponytail swaying, a bodhi leaf in his mouth, a smile in his eyes, a smile on his lips, he seemed to be immersed in joy, as if he was about to be brewed into a jar of fine wine, he said:

"Do you know the joy of riding a horse across the northern lands? Do you know how intoxicating the wind of Jiangnan is? Do you know the unrestrained freedom of riding a fast horse, raising your head to drink wine, and leaping over the Hukou Waterfall of the Yellow River?"

"Do you know the wind of Chang'an?"

"Do you know the sound of the Great Tang Dynasty sweeping across the Dragon Head Plain?"

"Do you know the heroic spirit of Yan and Zhao, do you know the magnificence of Qin and Jin?"

"No matter how good this place is, it's not our home after all. If we don't return to that land one day, then Xuanzang and I will always be wandering travelers. Doesn't the saying 'This heart at peace is my hometown' prove that only our hometown can make my heart settle down?"

"Even wandering travelers always want to go home."

King Harsha no longer tried to persuade him, and the two drank heavily.

They parted after getting drunk.

"Our friendship will not change, I'll be waiting for you to come back and drink with me again."

The king said this.

He walked into the years of history.

When his eyes were closed, the faces and smiles of many past friends were extremely clear. Was it afternoon? Or had it just passed noon? Shi Pantuo was sighing, the camel bells were jingling, the sunlight streamed down through the leaves of the bodhi tree, the bearded man was laughing loudly, the sounds of hawking, wine selling, arguing, and children's laughter were incredibly real.

Opening his eyes, there was only a ruin. Shi Pantuo, King Harsha, Xuanzang, and the place where they used to drink wine had all turned into smoke and dissipated, sealed in the dim yellow past. Coming and going were the modern North Indians, and even the ruins of King Harsha had vanished. Only the same sunlight as in the past fell on his face.

Wei Yuan turned his hand and stuck the Harsha Sword upside down into the ground.

He took out two wine bowls from his sleeve.

And a pot of wine.

He sat down on the ground.

He poured the wine into the wine bowls.

A smile appeared on the face of the Tang Dynasty knight errant. He raised the wine bowl, raised his glass to the city of fifteen hundred years ago, to his good friend of fifteen hundred years ago, and said softly with a smile: "I'm back."

"Bringing the fine wine of Chang'an."

"Bringing the flowers of Chang'an."

In his chats with that bearded man, Wei Yuan had more than once disparaged the fine wines of North India and praised the fine wines of Chang'an to the skies, claiming that lotus flowers sprung from the ground when drinking them. In fact, he was poor at that time. To talk about fine wine, he was really embarrassed, he hadn't drunk much of it, after all, Wang Xuanze wasn't well-off either.

And if he were to say to Xuanzang, 'I'm out of money, give me money, I want to go drink!'

He would probably be dragged back on the spot by that monk, who would grab the top of his head with one hand.

A full-time street idler in Chang'an.

You actually ran to a monk to borrow money to buy wine to drink?!

Amitabha, misfortune in the family! Misfortune in the family!

Although he hadn't drunk much fine wine from Chang'an, when he was in the royal palace of North India, sitting on soft embroidered blankets and drinking fine wine served in golden utensils, he still recalled the yellow wine from the Chang'an workshops of the past. It seemed to have the wind of Chang'an in it, and it was made from the grains of Qi and Lu, which was all good.

Wei Yuan raised his glass alone and clinked it against the wine vessel in front of the Harsha Sword.

Then he raised his head and drank the wine. In his eleven years in ancient India, when they first met, they both regarded each other as troublemakers. He leaned against the withered old tree, looked down on the past, drank the first bowl of wine, and said to himself:

"Tian Zhu (India)."

Then came the second bowl, chanting softly: "Chang'an."

The third bowl. "Returning home."

The fourth time, he poured a whole bowl, almost overflowing, paused, and drank it all in one gulp, his aura majestic.

"Ten Thousand Miles Sword!"

Then his aura turned gentle: "Buddhism."

"Sangharama."

Wei Yuan drank bowl after bowl of strong wine. After Sangharama, it was millennia, it was sword fighting, it was going back and forth, holding a sword north, south, east, and west, asking who the heroes were, all of whom were swallowed into his belly. He drank a full eleven bowls of wine.

The scenes of the past, together with this fine wine from Chang'an, were all taken into his belly. Wei Yuan seemed to be drunk even in his soul. For a moment, he couldn't tell whether the one sitting here was the museum curator of later generations, or the knight errant of the Tang Dynasty, or just revealing his true nature.

Finally, eleven bowls of wine were drunk clean.

The Tang Dynasty knight errant, who couldn't pour out even a drop of wine no matter how hard he tried, looked at the place that was no longer the same, and was stunned for a long time. Then he laughed loudly, and finally, in a state of disappointment, he threw away the fine wine from Chang'an, staggered to his feet: "Let's go! Let's go!" He flicked his sleeves, and the Harsha Sword was directly erased of all traces, as if it were an ordinary object, and left here.

Eleven years of travel.

Eleven years of acquaintance.

I return you eleven bowls of strong wine.

You gave me this sword, and after circling for sixteen hundred years, I return it to you now, Bearded Man.

This is what is called, having a beginning and an end.

We people, we people...

The knight errant staggered away.

The Great Sun Sword, representing the ancient divinity and mythical concept, was left here, overlooking the ruins of Kanyakubja below, just like King Harsha of the past. And the Tang Dynasty knight errant left with his joy exhausted, without even looking at the Harsha Sword that exuded scorching divine power.

His footsteps paused.

It seemed like an illusion, or perhaps he was drunk. Behind him, it seemed that there was still that city of Kanyakubja. He could hear the jingling of camel bells. There was Shi Pantuo, there were his drinking buddies, Xuanzang was lecturing on Buddhist teachings, those old monk-like monks were dozing off, the beautiful ruler was gazing at Xuanzang, and the bearded man was holding a sword, holding a drink, and looking at him.

Sixteen hundred years ago, the valiant king asked with a smile: "What are you thinking about?"

The knight errant, staring blankly at the white clouds, said: "Nothing."

Sixteen hundred years later, the knight errant didn't turn his head back.

In the end, he just waved his hand to Kanyakubja, to his friends of the past, with his back turned.

He shouted loudly:

"I'm leaving!"

He walked out of his memories.

The wind blew across the sword, and the Harsha Sword鳴啸, as if humming.

Wei Yuan returned to the green ox. The white-haired youth, reeking of alcohol, was frantically swiping on his phone, his eyes bloodshot. When he saw Wei Yuan return, he widened his eyes and said angrily, "Potter, where did you post it! Where did you post it?!"

He reached out to grab Wei Yuan's collar.

But Wei Yuan raised his hand and pressed it down. Wuzhi Qi was stunned by the latter's natural reaction.

Wei Yuan didn't notice, his tone light and cheerful, even with a hint of gentleness:

"That sentence? I lied to you."

Wuzhi Qi was stunned, then furious:

"You!!!"

Wei Yuan asked in confusion: "I thought that with your intelligence and decisiveness, Water Lord, you would be able to see through my trap at a glance..."

"Could it be... you actually fell for it?"

"?!?!""

Wuzhi Qi's voice came to an abrupt halt. He was stunned for a while, then gritted his teeth and said word by word:

"Of course... of course I saw through it."

Wei Yuan clapped his hands and sighed: "As expected of the Water Lord!"

"Amazing, amazing."

"In other words, my trap didn't have any negative impact on you at all, right?"

Wuzhi Qi was blocked by a word. He struggled for a long time before squeezing out a sentence from between his tiger teeth:

"...Right."

The unrestrained knight errant wore a smile. The old green ox saw that he no longer had the Harsha Divine Sword, which naturally had a vast mythical concept, and asked in surprise:

"What about the mythical concept?"

"I left it behind."

"You're not taking it with you?"

"Taking what with me?"

The old green ox was stunned, looking at the youth who answered casually in front of him. Then he couldn't help but clap his hands and laugh, saying: "Confucius's teachings are right! Confucius's teachings are right! You no longer need to learn, any foreign object is a impurity. You have already attained the Dao, you already have a path, hahaha..."

He laughed heartily, then whispered in his heart with a smile.

I don't have to worry about you anymore.

Wei Yuan originally intended to leave directly, but the green ox had already transformed back into its original form.

Wei Yuan stroked the big green ox, sat on its back as he had done more than two thousand years ago. He took out his phone, opened Zhang Ruosu's contact, and originally sent a long string of jokes as he had done in the past, but in the end, he deleted them all.

What he finally sent

was only six words.

"Dao Ancestor's remains return."

ps: Today's second update...3800 words, thank you Bai's Illusion for 30,000 starting coins, thank you~

Well, although I have some time, I have to prepare well for the next time, the big one, tomorrow.

I hope this plot can be written smoothly, lying down.