The Monk with No Heart

The night was pitch-black, as though thick layers of ink had been smeared across the sky. Not even a glimmer of starlight could be seen, yet the candlelight now illuminated the little temple that had lain silent for many years. A handsome young monk, barely in his twenties, sat before a Buddha statue, reciting scripture. Tonight was the seventh day since the old monk's passing. Wuxin could still hear the old monk's final words echoing in his ears: “For more than thirty years, I have kept this fiend sealed away. Today, I shall attain rainbow-body here. Once I pass, the fiend will surely escape and wreak havoc upon the world. So I now bequeath to you all the cultivation I have accumulated in my life. Within seven days, you must absorb it all and make it your own. You must stop this beast from escaping and committing evil.” After speaking, the old monk slowly sat up with Wuxin's support. Wuxin sat facing him in meditation. The old monk gently placed a hand on Wuxin's head and chanted scripture. Flecks of golden light slowly seeped from the old monk's body into the young monk's.