Mahayana 112
BGM: Punishing Grey Raven - Endless Path
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Chapter 112: Slaying the Ferryman of the River of Forgetfulness – Lingyun Falls, His Dao Extinguished
TL : Cnine
ED/PF :
Part 1
They flew on for a while longer before finally arriving. A desolate pier emerged from the gloom ahead, abandoned and silent, with a handful of small ferry boats resting by the dock.
No one knew what material the boat was made from, yet it floated upon the River of Forgetfulness, where nothing else could remain afloat.
At the bow of each small boat hung a green lantern, faintly resembling the one carried by Lady Meng Po. At the stern stood figures clad in black robes, each holding a bamboo pole. They were eerie and uncanny, their bodies steeped in the stillness of death.
On the dock stood a stone stele, engraved with three blood-red characters: Yellow Spring Ferry.
Upon arriving here, Xiao Yifeng swiftly recalled Little Snow, allowing the greatly exhausted pet to return to his body and rest.
Just as he was about to put away the Yellow Spring Ferry stele, a sharp sword aura suddenly slashed towards him. It was Mo Shuiyao, who had caught up at last.
Mo Shuiyao descended swiftly, landing not far from Xiao Yifeng, a short dagger gleaming in her grasp. Her face was pale to the point of bloodlessness, her exhaustion obvious, yet the look she fixed upon Xiao Yifeng was anything but weak.
“Since Fellow Daoist Wu Chen had already acquired two stone steles, might you allow this one to fall into my hands?” Her words were courteous, but her face was cold and merciless.
“If Miss Mo desires it, then the stele is yours,” Xiao Yifeng said calmly. He had no intention of quarrelling with her, especially when he knew full well he could not defeat her.
It was a race against timet. He had no wish to linger with this group for even a moment longer. They had set their sights on Su Miaoqing’s source blood.
Without hesitation, he seized Su Miaoqing’s hand, rushed to the ferry, and jumped aboard a boat. His voice dropped low and firm. “Boatman. I’m crossing the river. Set sail immediately.”
The boatman, whose figure shrouded entirely in a black robe, lifted his head and looked Xiao Yifeng and Su Miaoqing over, as though verifying who they were.
After a brief pause, he nodded and rasped, “Since you both hold a Samsara Stele, you are entitled to one free crossing. Sit tight.”
He then slowly loosened the rope securing the boat, planting the bamboo pole gently into the water. The small vessel glided away from the bank.
“Wu Chen, you little brat! Stop right there and hand over that stele!” A thunderous shout erupted behind them. The Old Demon King and the other had arrived.
No one knew what means they had employed, but they had caught up far faster than expected.
Mo Shuiyao saw what was going on and thought, why not. She slapped some fresh blood onto the stele, jumped onto a boat, and yelled at the black-robed boatman, “Oi, hurry up and go!”
“Not a chance! Stay right there!” Two flying hooks came zooming in. With zero time to dodge, she stuck her dagger out and blocked them, grunting like she’d just made a terrible life choice.
Lucky for her, the boatman picked that moment to push the boat off the shore. Once the boat was clear, everyone else chickened out and stopped throwing magic artefact over the river.
After all, the River of Forgetfulness had a reputation for dragging anything flying over it straight down to be chewed into nothing. Nobody wanted to test that rumour personally.
The rest of the group landed at the dock, saw two boats already leaving, jumped onto the remaining ones, and started yelling, “Set sail, set sail!”
To their surprise, the boatmen all lifted their heads to look at them and spoke in unison, “Outsiders without a Samsara Stele must pay a fare to cross the River of Forgetfulness. Do you consent?”
“Set sail already! Hurry the hell up! I’ve got more money than I can spend. Name your price and it’s yours!” The Old Demon King barked impatiently.
Hearing this, the boatman slowly pushed the boat away from the shore. Daoist Lingyun, seeing this, followed suit and also ordered his boat to depart.
Liu Yue was just about to speak when Luo Yun, standing at his side, stopped him. Luo Yun stepped forward and asked calmly, “Boatman, may I ask what you accept as payment?”
“A person’s seven emotions and six desires, one of the three souls and seven spirits, or else the memory you treasure most,” the boatman rasped.
Hearing this, everyone’s expression shifted. The Old Demon King and Daoist Lingyun, already drifting away from the shore, went deathly pale.
After a brief pause, Lin Xiao stepped onto the ferry and said calmly, “Let’s go.”
The price was cruel, almost unbearable, yet the river left them no choice. One by one, they boarded the boat. Their eyes flickered with unease, schemes and fears churning beneath forced calm.
The small boat drifted slowly towards the centre of the River of Forgetfulness. Xiao Yifeng’s boat did not slow in the slightest. Then, without warning, their boat stopped. The boatman spoke, cold and mechanical, “Please pay the fare.”
“Can’t we pay once we’re across?” The Old Demon King snapped.
“No.” The boatman shook his head without hesitation.
“And what if I don’t?” The Old Demon King asked again, his voice ladden with menace.
“If you don’t pay, the boat won’t move.” The boatman’s tone was still unnervingly calm.
The Old Demon King was just about to resort to force to make the boat continue when a furious cry erupted from another side.
“I’ve already lost my chance at the Great Dao! And now you want me to lose my soul or my seven emotions as well? What reason do I have left to live?” Old Daoist Lingyun roared, sounding half-mad. Clearly lost his composure.
“Please pay the fare!” The boatman repeated, cold and mechanical.
“Die!” Old Daoist Lingyun’s eyes flashed with murderous intent as he lashed out with his whisk at the boatman.
Crack! The sound rang out as the boatman was cut clean in half, his body collapsing onto the deck of the boat.
“Humph, you charlatan, dare to play tricks on me!” Old Daoist Lingyun laughed madly. “Even without you, I’ll still cross the River of Forgetfulness!”
Yet to his horror, a smile crept across the boatman’s deathly pale face, even as it lay severed. He chuckled softly. “Thank you, fellow Daoist, for releasing me. Now, you shall become the new boatman of the River of Forgetfulness.”
The boatman dissolved into ash, and his black robe stitched itself together in mid-air, drifting straight towards Old Daoist Lingyun.
It wrapped around him in an instant. No matter how fiercely he struggled or tore at it, the robe would not come off.
“Ah! What is this cursed thing?! Someone, help!” Old Daoist Lingyun screamed.
The others were stunned. None of them had ever seen something so terrifying.
The black robe tightened around him, crushing his resistance along with his voice. His screams faded away until he stood there, emotionless and still.
Then, as though responding to some ancient call, he turned stiffly towards the bamboo pole lying nearby. He picked it up, set it into the water, and began to pole the boat towards the port.
His movements were smooth, practiced, disturbingly familiar. Soon, he merged with the other boatmen, just another black-robed figure among them.
The sight made everyone’s skin crawl. The Old Demon King, who had nearly attacked moments before, found his raised palm frozen in place.
He hastily lowered his hand, forcing out an awkward smile. The boatman released a soft, nearly inaudible sigh, yet it sent a cold shiver through his entire body.
He dared not think what might have happened had he struck first. The figure standing there, pushing the boat across the river, could easily have been him.
One by one, the group made their exchanges in silence. Some surrendered one of their seven emotions; others gave up the memories they held most dear.
By the time they finished, Xiao Yifeng’s ferry was already approaching the other shore.
Watching from afar, Su Miaoqing and the others felt a surge of complicated emotions. Without the Samsara Stele, would they not have have shared the same fate?
“Why did Old Daoist Lingyun become a boatman?” Su Miaoqing asked softly, confusion in her voice.
“There is a legend,” Xiao Yifeng said with a sigh, “that anyone who kills the boatman of the River of Forgetfulness must take his place. They will ferry souls for a thousand years before earning another chance at reincarnation. Or until they are killed themselves.”
“That is far too pitiful,” Su Miaoqing said quietly.
“He brought it upon himself,” Xiao Yifeng said gently. “Had greed not consumed him, his path of cultivation would not have broken. Had his Dao heart not collapsed, he would never have attacked the boatman. Do not let it trouble you.”
Su Miaoqing nodded and turned her attention to the distant shore, studying it carefully.
“Being able to cross this river safely today is all thanks to Fellow Daoist Wu Chen,” Mo Shuiyao called out from behind. “I hope you will continue to guide us ahead. I am truly grateful.”