Chapter 53: The Little Boy

After a week of continuous gloomy rain, the entire world seemed shrouded in an impenetrable, heavy melancholy. Teacher Xing stood on the balcony, his gaze deep and grave as he stared at the sky. It was the grievance of a dragon, where profound resentment had transformed into formless chains tightly wrapping around the firmament, pushing it dangerously close to the precipice of entering the demonic path.

Teacher Yang recounted to me what had happened that day. Around dusk, when she returned to the apartment she rented with Teacher Xing, just as she pulled out her keys to unlock the door, she suddenly sensed that something was amiss. Instinctively looking down, she saw a small, blurry young boy crouching beside the door. The boy was curled up like a wounded animal, with his face buried deep in his knees. When he slowly raised his head... at that moment, Teacher Yang’s heart tightened violently. It was a deeply bizarre face; his features looked as though they had endured endless suffering and violent devastation. His entire face was twisted and askew, and his left eyeball was already drooping down. Even so, the little boy was still trying his utmost, barely twitching the corners of his mouth in an attempt to squeeze out a smile.

Looking at this pitiful face covered in wounds, Teacher Yang’s eyes instantly moistened, and tears slipped down. She suddenly realized the identity of the child before her. Recently, Douyin had been frequently pushing a news story—a shocking school bullying incident in society where three vicious delinquents inflicted inhumane harm upon an innocent child, ultimately killing and burying him brutally.

The victimized little boy appeared to bear no malice; he simply seemed to have come to seek their help. Teacher Yang unlocked the door, let the boy inside, and hurriedly called Teacher Xing out.

Teacher Xing walked out of the bedroom wearing casual home clothes. Seeing the little boy, he froze for a moment. Just days prior, while gazing up at the sky from the balcony, he had witnessed a divine dragon being reincarnated into the mortal realm, only to suffer abuse and slaughter. Its true form, residing above the nine heavens, had generated boundless resentment, causing the world to be shrouded in dark clouds and continuous rain for seven full days. At that time, he had sensed that if proper pacification was not provided, this divine dragon truly might fall into the demonic path, beyond redemption. The little boy’s primordial spirit was none other than that very divine dragon.

Teacher Yang asked softly and gently, "Are you the boy from the news who suffered school bullying and was killed?"

Hearing this—just like severely traumatized victims who experience strong trigger reactions the moment they touch upon past events—the boy let out a frantic, hysterical shriek, "Ah—!" In a fraction of a second, his face became covered in countless black veins, resembling a flawless piece of white porcelain smashed to pieces on the ground, then crudely mended with black adhesive, looking both gruesome and ominous enough to strike fear into the heart. From within his body, a powerful resentment and deep hatred surged forth, permeating the air.

The little boy was originally a divine dragon from the divine realm who had descended to the mortal world to undergo reincarnation and tribulations. The culprits who drove him to such a tragic plight were three peers who were actually reincarnated demons.

Teacher Xing felt a deep sense of sympathy for the boy's ordeal, which strongly resonated with him. He recalled his own childhood when his father worked away from home year-round, his mother remarried, and his grandmother raised him alone. As a frail child lacking parental protection from an early age, he understood all too profoundly what kind of bullying one would face and how deep that pain cut.

Teacher Xing closed his eyes and summoned the little boy's primordial spirit with his mind. In the horizon, a streak of a soaring dragon pierced through the void, fluttering down from beyond the nine heavens. The divine dragon possessed a massive body, its scales shimmering with a profound luster. Finally, amidst a flurry of lightning and thunder, it descended to the ground and transformed into a young man clad in dark robes. His appearance was handsome yet bore a trace of sickly pallor; his eyes held gloom and sorrow, as though he were still trapped in the agonizing trauma of having been tortured to death.

The mortal reincarnation was completely oblivious to the existence of the celestial primordial spirit, yet the primordial spirit could perceive every minute detail of the mortal vessel's life in the secular world. The primordial spirit and the heavenly soul are fundamentally an inseparable dual aspect deep within the soul. Now that his mortal incarnation had endured such inhuman torture and murder, the primordial spirit in the heavens felt the same pain, grieving to the extreme and finding it difficult to let go.

A brilliant golden light suddenly burst from Teacher Xing’s palm, condensing into a magnificent golden giant bowl that slowly pressed down from above the dark-robed man’s head, resembling the collapse of the firmament. Within moments, it healed the injuries on his body. Once fully recovered, the dark-robed man bent his knees and knelt respectfully on the ground, kowtowing to thank the Sovereign of Kunlun for healing his wounds.

Naturally perceiving that this divine dragon would never swallow this grievance easily, Teacher Xing asked in a deep voice, "What are your plans next?"

The dark-robed man cast a glance at the tragic state of the little boy's ghost standing beside Teacher Yang, his voice choking slightly with emotion, "I am going to submit a memorial to the Heavenly Court to seek redress for my mortal reincarnation and demand the justice that rightfully belongs to me."

Teacher Xing nodded. Because the little boy's affairs were entangled with the pending case, he could not merge with his primordial spirit to return to the divine realm together; the dark-robed man, serving as the primordial spirit, had to return alone.

The dark-robed man uttered a soft call, and beneath his feet, a dazzling, multicolored auspicious cloud instantly converged, radiating brilliant light. Treading upon the auspicious cloud, he set off to ascend to the Heavenly Court and seek an audience with the Jade Emperor.

On the other hand, the little boy's earthly soul and human soul still remained in the mortal realm. Since the seven-day mourning period had not yet passed, they needed to stay close to his family. Teacher Yang summoned underworld soldiers from the netherworld, instructing them to escort the little boy's soul safely back to his parents. Once those seven days elapsed, the boy's soul would have to enter the netherworld to face the judgment and ruling of King Yama. As for the three boys who had taken his life, besides facing mortal laws, they would also face the laws of heaven and earth.

How many people have ignored the hazards of school bullying, always feeling that children cannot be all that bad? In reality, children's benevolence and malice are the purest of all. Their kindness is absolute kindness, and their wickedness is absolute wickedness. And the malice of a child is the truest evil in this world, because they rely on their status as minors to indulge themselves without restraint or fear of consequences.

Anyone who bullies others in school bullying is uniformly a reincarnated demon, which is why they are born with such wicked seeds.

After the little boy was sent away, Teacher Yang lay awake for the entire night. Not only was she saddened by the boy's ordeal, but she suddenly felt a piercing pain in her heart—a pain that surged like a tide, as though it were about to tear her entire heart apart, her skin so pale it almost seemed ready to dissolve under the lamplight.

Teacher Xing furrowed his brows, his eyes revealing restlessness and worry, yet no matter how he sensed the situation, he came up empty-handed. There were very few things beyond his ability to perceive.

Perhaps, just as Yuan Chen had once said, Teacher Xing and Teacher Yang were a couple fused as one, their information magnetic fields integrated into a single entity. Some matters had to be handled with the aid of outsiders, rendering him unable to intervene directly. Thus, in the dead of night, he contacted Zhong Yang.

The divine realm possesses countless cultivation methods, and thus their specialized skills vary. Teacher Xing held the highest martial prowess, Teacher Yang excelled in BaZi and Feng Shui, I was responsible for descending to the mortal realm specifically for writing, Wang Xinyue possessed exceptionally strong sensory perception, and Cao Na’s specialized skills remained unknown for now, save for her immensely powerful Fahui Bowl. Zhong Yang’s greatest ability, however, was her magical insight—a pair of eyes that could instantly scan out the source of any ailment.

Zhong Yang’s eyes emitted a dim green glow, which projected onto Teacher Yang’s chest. Concentrating for a moment, the mist before her eyes seemed to disperse, gradually revealing a rather handsome man. That man was an ethereal ghost, standing right upon Teacher Yang’s heart.

At that moment, Teacher Yang’s heart had been mercilessly pierced by countless fine needles, leaving behind shocking, jagged cracks resembling a shattered porcelain piece. No wonder she felt a heart-wrenching pain, as though it could fracture at any second.

Zhong Yang described the man’s appearance to Teacher Yang, prompting her to suddenly recall who he was.

More than a decade ago, Teacher Yang had dated a boyfriend named Wang Rong'an. He was handsome and treated her quite well, but unfortunately, Wang Rong'an was an impractical hoodlum. Always aiming high while lacking capability, he dreamed of getting rich overnight rather than working steadily. Ultimately, Teacher Yang chose to break up with him.

Initially, Wang Rong'an was deeply reluctant to let go, frequently sending her gifts via courier every few days and begging to reconcile. Then one day, he composed a lengthy, affectionate text message to her, claiming he had found an opportunity to attain great wealth and urging Teacher Yang to wait for him and never marry anyone else. The day he returned rolling in wealth would be the day he came back to marry her.

From that day on, Wang Rong'an seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving no further trace. At first, Teacher Yang thought Wang Rong'an had finally realized that forced attachments were futile and had given up his harassment; little did she know that Wang Rong'an was actually dead.

On the very night Zhong Yang helped her diagnose the affliction, Teacher Yang had a dream.

She found herself in that distant and desolate land of northern Myanmar, surrounded by abandoned industrial parks overgrown with weeds in a desolate scene. A dilapidated two-story building stood there in isolation. In the dim light inside, Wang Rong'an was being subjected to a ruthless beating by a group of burly men.

Wang Rong'an’s face no longer retained its former handsomeness; instead, it was covered in patches of bruises and swelling. His eyes were hollow and filled with despair as he screamed and begged bitterly, "I beg you, stop hitting me! I really am completely broke. I’ve begged all my friends and family back home. The online loans you made me borrow, I gritted my teeth and took them out too, but I truly don't have any more money. Let me go, please let me leave..."

These desperate pleas echoed through the empty building, yet they failed to touch the iron-hard hearts of the assailants. In the dream, Teacher Yang could only watch helplessly from the side, an indescribable sense of sorrow and powerlessness welling up in her heart.

When the brutal beating ended, they exchanged meaningful glances. One of the Myanmar men barked orders in Burmese to the others. Without hesitation, those men hoisted Wang Rong'an up like a feeble, struggling prey and dragged him toward the second floor.

On the second floor, a room resembled a hospital operating room. Not only was it equipped with an operating table, but it also scattered a dozen gleaming scalpels and various precision medical devices that lay quietly waiting for an unknown purpose, exuding an ominous aura into the air.

Wang Rong'an was roughly pinned down onto the operating table, his limbs tightly bound so he couldn't move. He was like a helpless lamb awaiting the verdict of fate. Terror and despair intertwined in his eyes; realizing what horrifying fate awaited him, his voice trembled with a mixture of entreaty and unwillingness, "No... don't! What on earth are you going to do to me?!"

Because anesthetics were scarce, the procedure was performed without any anesthesia. In a completely unmedicated state, Wang Rong'an’s chest was ruthlessly sliced open, and his two vibrant kidneys were brutally excised from his body.

Throughout the preceding events, Teacher Yang had remained a mere spectator, but the moment she witnessed this harrowing, inhuman scene with her own eyes, she covered her trembling lips tightly with both hands, fell weakly to her knees, and retched dryly, tears streaming down uncontrollably. Even though she no longer loved Wang Rong'an, she believed that any flesh-and-blood human being would feel extreme revulsion upon witnessing such a spectacle. It was a profound sympathy and terror born from the primal instinct of life, transcending personal likes and dislikes—especially when the victim was someone she had once known well, magnifying the emotion to the point of suffocation.

In a flash—as if a heavy black velvet curtain on a stage had dropped and risen again—the scene before her transformed abruptly, shifting from northern Myanmar to the netherworld.

This was the realm where departed souls resided; there was no sunlight, nor was it pitch black. A murky, dim twilight permeated the surroundings, and wandering souls walked along paths like expressionless puppets.

Wang Rong'an pulled a dazed Teacher Yang toward a dilapidated tile-roofed house at the end of the path. Unspeakable joy flickered in his eyes, accompanied by a trace of imperceptible trembling in his voice, "Yueyue, no matter how many years we missed, I finally found you after all."

Hearing this, Teacher Yang’s heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively refused, "I must return to the mortal world; that is where I belong."

As if immersed in his own world, Wang Rong'an continued speaking on his own, "The mortal world is so bitter. I cannot bear to see you live day after day in a wounded, suffering body. Stay! Keep me company. I have a house here, and we can be together just like we used to be."

Trembling with panic, Teacher Yang broke free from his grip, "I can return to the mortal world and recite the Ksitigarbha Sutra for you, helping you transcend reincarnation and attain bliss in the Pure Land."

Wang Rong'an’s gaze suddenly turned gloomy and sinister, his voice intensely dark, "You actually dare to delusionally attempt to liberate me through scripture recitation? Do you think that since even Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva could not liberate me, what makes you think your chanting could have the slightest effect?!"

As it turned out, Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva had once descended with great compassion, attempting to guide him to the other shore. However, Wang Rong'an was consumed by deep resentment upon his death, coupled with an obsession for Yang Yue that bordered on madness. This obsession acted like a shackle, firmly trapping his soul—an unresolved fixation pushing him to the brink of entering the demonic path.

Despite what he said, Teacher Yang resolved to try anyway. She devoutly began to silently recite the Ksitigarbha Sutra. Yet, just as Wang Rong'an had predicted, as the scripture slipped word by word past her lips, an indescribable, agonizing pain gradually welled up in her chest. The pain surged like a tide until she could no longer continue chanting, forcing her to clutch her chest in agony while her entire body trembled involuntarily from spasms.

"I told you long ago it was useless!"

Dragging the weak and powerless Teacher Yang—just like those burly men in Myanmar had ruthlessly dragged him to tie him to the operating table—Wang Rong'an pulled her toward that dilapidated tile-roofed house.

Teacher Yang suddenly had an ominous premonition: if she truly stepped into that house, she would end up just like Wang Rong'an when he was forcibly strapped to the operating table to have his kidneys harvested—she would never find a way back to the realm of the living.

Gathering the very last ounce of her strength, she screamed for dear life, "Teacher Xing, save me—!"

From the sky above the netherworld, a dazzling golden light suddenly poured down. Teacher Xing’s primordial spirit, the Sovereign of Kunlun, clad in white battle robes with a waist tied by an auspicious-cloud-patterned belt, had sword-like brows slanted upward, his eyes resembling ink that could never be dissolved. Raising both palms, light burst forth from the centers like the rising sun, dazzling and brilliant. This light enveloped Wang Rong'an with an irresistible, sacred force. Wang Rong'an’s eyes widened in horror, and beneath this golden radiance, his figure began to blur, ultimately dissolving into a wisp of smoke and vanishing into nothingness.