Volume One: The Journey of the Useless—Blazing Demon-Slay Chapter Forty-One: Boundless Hell—An Array for Entrapment and Annihilation

“Why have we been walking for so long and still haven’t arrived? It feels just like the soul-trapping array I once stumbled into—the path is always ahead, but you never reach the end.”
Yang Chengzi replied, “We shouldn’t be inside an array. There isn’t a single tree here. An array can’t fully conceal itself, and I don’t see any traces or sense any fluctuations of spiritual energy.”
Chen San grew anxious. “Could this be a ghost wall? With you, a Maoshan Taoist, here, would we still encounter a ghost wall?”
Yang Chengzi shook his head. “Impossible. I can’t sense any spirits nearby, and the soul-shaking bell hasn’t rung. There isn’t a monster powerful enough to make us hallucinate from miles away. Besides, you have ghost eyes—a ghost wall can’t stop you.”
At that moment, Chang Yu grew frightened. She hurried forward, linking her arm through Yang Chengzi’s, casting anxious glances around. Yang Chengzi was a little unused to this, but seeing her fear, he didn’t refuse. Chen San, noticing Chang Yu’s distress, lit several large torches, and the group sat together in a circle.
The master gazed at the town before them, frowning. “It seems we didn’t take the wrong path.”
Yang Chengzi turned to ask, “Master, have you discerned anything unusual?”
“Frankly, I am ashamed—I haven’t experienced this myself, so it didn’t occur to me that we might encounter such a thing.”
“Oh? What is it that you speak of?”
The monk Sui Chang nodded and began his tale.
The ancient scriptures once recorded that, centuries ago, several monks violated the eight precepts and were punished by the abbot. They were sent to cultivate their minds through hardship, tasked with journeying over three thousand li to the ancient Loulan temple, where they were to study and memorize the Heart Sutra before they could return. Knowing their transgressions were grave, the monks accepted the challenge without complaint.
Following the abbot’s instructions, they traveled east for over two thousand li, arriving at a desolate expanse of sand dunes. The wind there was relentless, and not a tree could be seen—a barren landscape stretching as far as the eye could see.
Skirting the edge of the dunes, the monks pressed on. Normally, half a day’s travel would suffice to cross, but soon they spotted a city amid the sands. They thought themselves lost, but only a young novice insisted that the abbot’s directions were correct.
In the end, only the novice reached the Loulan temple and explained their journey and the fate of the others. The temple’s abbot told him that there was no city there at all—the monks had seen only an illusion, one from which none ever returned.
Hearing “none ever returned,” Chen San grew agitated. “Master, what do you mean, none ever returned? Don’t scare me.”
The master explained, “The temple’s abbot called that city the Boundless Hell. It sometimes appears, sometimes vanishes, but those who enter it are never seen again.”
“Then shouldn’t we just go back? There’s still a demon in the town that needs to be sealed.”
Yang Chengzi looked calmly at the road they had come by. “I fear we can’t go back—that’s why it’s called Boundless Hell.”
Following Yang Chengzi’s gaze, the group was stunned. Since leaving Wu City, they had walked along the main road. Though not paved with stone, it was clear and well-traveled. Now, under the moonlight, the road had vanished—there was no sign of any path.
It was as if they were trapped in a barren desert, nothing but emptiness in every direction. Chang Yu clung tighter to Yang Chengzi.
Chen San regained his composure and stared at the distant city. “Since we can’t go back, let’s go forward. Perhaps inside the city, we might find a way.”
Yang Chengzi turned to Sui Chang Monk. “Master, could this be a thousand-year-old phantom demon? The story in the scriptures is centuries old—if it’s a demon, it must be nearly a thousand years now. I’ve never encountered a demon of such age; perhaps, as Chen San said, it’s some ancient monster.”
Sui Chang Monk nodded. “There are many things in this world we’ve never met. The city maintains its distance from us—I don’t believe it’s lifeless.”
Chen San was astonished. “Yes, the city always stays so far away. We’ve been walking for nearly an hour—at that distance, we shouldn’t have seen it at all, yet it keeps pace with us.”
Sui Chang Monk continued, “If it’s alive, whether human or ghost, there must be a way to deal with it.”
“What should we do? Walking isn’t working—we’ve been at it so long, and it’s still far away. Do you have a way to reach it faster, to see what it really is?”
Yang Chengzi took several yellow talisman papers from his sleeve. “I’ll send out talismans to scout ahead, see if the city always stays at this distance.”
He chanted, sent three talismans into the air, and as they fell, they were pulled toward the city, vanishing swiftly. The city itself did not move.
Suddenly, Yang Chengzi’s eyes widened. Chen San, seeing his reaction, grew nervous. “What is it? What did you find?”
Yang Chengzi frowned. “I can’t retrieve the talismans, nor sense them anymore—they disappeared a mile ahead. This thing is always before us, and it limits the range of my spells. My scouting talismans can travel dozens of miles at night, and they didn’t detect any ghostly or demonic aura. That means its power far surpasses mine. My Taoist skills alone are no match for it.”
Hearing this, Chen San grew uneasy, swallowing hard.
“We haven’t fought it yet—don’t lose heart. There are many of us; we’re not in immediate danger. Let’s focus on how to confront it directly. If it never shows itself, we’ll starve before we ever see it.”
Yang Chengzi nodded. “Perhaps that’s its intent—to starve us, then seize our bodies.”
Chang Yu asked, troubled, “If we all die, what would it want with our bodies?”
Chen San grinned. “If it wanted your body, it’d use it to seduce men, then take over their bodies too.”
Chang Yu looked at Chen San’s lewd smile with disgust, her face drawn in misery. “I don’t want to die—I don’t want to seduce men.”
“Don’t listen to him. He’s just scaring you. If it wants bodies, it’d target me or the master. Our bodies, even after death, retain a soul—Buddhist and Taoist powers linger. A powerful demon could inhabit our bodies and use our skills from life. Though it defies the heavenly order, it would allow the demon to enter this world in the flesh.”
Chen San was incredulous. “People’s souls never disperse after death? I thought soul-catchers came for them.”
“They do, normally. When someone dies, their soul is taken. But a single soul remains—the evil soul, a remnant of one’s earthly misdeeds. How long it lingers depends on the depth of one’s sins, but at most, forty-nine days.
Once the evil soul disperses, the corpse can no longer be possessed or used for spells. To dwell in the world in a human body, one must continually seek new bodies.”
“If it kills someone, wouldn’t that give it a new body? Why trap us here?”
Yang Chengzi shook his head. “That wouldn’t work. Those who die violently harbor great resentment, and their evil soul quickly leaves, turning into wrath or vengeful energy. Without the evil soul, it can’t possess the body.”
Chang Yu interjected, “Is dying of starvation not considered a violent death?”
“That’s a death of despair, like dying of illness—no resentment. Only those murdered die violent deaths, with unfinished business or, sometimes, eyes open in death.”
“Why would it want a human body? Why not remain a ghost?”
“That’s for it to answer. There could be many reasons. If it’s a demon yet to face its tribulation, it may want to borrow a human form to escape the cycle of reincarnation and heavenly punishment.
Aside from demons who’ve passed their tribulation, all creatures have limited lifespans. If it finds a body to inhabit, it can survive in this world until the evil soul disperses—without paying the price of its own lifespan. With enough bodies, it could live forever, avoiding the suffering of reincarnation.”
“I never knew being a ghost had such benefits—no need for rebirth.”
Yang Chengzi smiled. “It sounds simple, but these are just my guesses. We’ll know the truth when it comes.”
“Have you thought of a way?”
“We can’t confront it directly—it won’t show itself, so we can’t do anything. Since we can’t find it, let’s make it come to us.”
Chen San was puzzled. “How would it come on its own?”
“If I’m right, it wants the body of either me or the master. If one of us dies, it will surely come for the corpse.”
“You may not eat meat, but your brain certainly works. But if you die, who will kill the monster?”
“We’ll only feign death—to lure it over. Once it comes, we can trap it.”
Yang Chengzi turned and conferred with Sui Chang Monk. “Master, does Buddhism have a simple array to restrain it for a while? The Maoshan arrays take time to set up. If you have a suitable formation, I’d trouble you to arrange it while I make other preparations.”
Sui Chang Monk answered, “No need for feigned death. Buddhism has the Formless Great Array, which conceals one’s vital energy. Once the array is set, we enter it, and nothing outside can sense our life force—as if we were dead.”
“Such an array exists?”
Sui Chang Monk nodded. “Later, write your birth date and time with finger blood on a piece of clothing and place it outside the array. The demon will mistake the clothing for us—there’s no vital energy, so it will approach.
Beneath the clothing, set the Eight-Armed Arhat Array. Once the demon draws near, the Arhat will temporarily seal it. As long as it has no physical form, it won’t escape quickly, and we’ll have a chance to kill it.”
“The master truly is a Buddhist sage—the mastery of Buddhist arrays is remarkable. Since we don’t need to feign death, I’m ready. Once the master completes the array, we’ll wait for it to appear.”
“Both arrays are simple. Once the Formless Great Array is set, everyone lies inside, pretending to be dead and waiting.”
Sui Chang Monk got up from his chair, limped to the front.
Under the moonlight, the city ahead looked especially eerie. He frowned, removed a string of Buddhist beads from his wrist, untied the cord, leaving eighteen beads in his palm.
“Here, each take a few. Form a circle around me with the eighteen beads, spaced evenly. These beads, made from Nanshan cedar, carry extraordinary fortune and are perfect for the Formless Great Array. Combined with the array, they will completely conceal our vital energy.”
Everyone examined the beads curiously. In the firelight, they appeared reddish, no different from ordinary beads, so they began placing them around.
After several adjustments, the circle was complete. Sui Chang Monk wrote lines of scripture outside the circle with stones. Chen San and the others couldn’t understand them and, seeing the master busy, didn’t ask.
Once he finished, Sui Chang Monk rose, pressed his palms together, and began chanting.
Just as Chen San thought the chanting was taking too long, a giant golden apparition appeared behind Sui Chang Monk. Before he could see it clearly, it soared upward like a golden dragon, then plunged into the scripture on the ground. In an instant, the scripture absorbed the apparition, leaving only faint golden ripples.
Chen San was dumbfounded. He’d used invocation spells often, but without Taoist foundations, never remembered what happened—this was the first time he witnessed such a stunning feat. He stared, mouth agape.
The others, lacking spiritual sight, didn’t see the apparition. Sui Chang Monk turned and saw Chen San’s astonished face, laughing. “I like your look—just like me as a baby, haha.”
Chen San, realizing he was the butt of the joke, swallowed awkwardly.
“Teach me sometime—it looks powerful.”
Sui Chang Monk shook his head. “Young man, the world still holds much for you. When you no longer yearn for it, I’ll teach you.”
Chen San rolled his eyes. “You two really are brothers—one wants me to be a Taoist, the other a monk. I won’t do it! I haven’t even seen what the world has to offer.”
“Then step aside—don’t get in the way.”
Embarrassed, Chen San shuffled away. Sui Chang Monk returned to the circle, sitting cross-legged.
When everyone had entered the circle, Sui Chang Monk said to Yang Chengzi, “Write your birth date and time. After chanting, toss your clothes into the Arhat array. I’ll place the Formless Great Array’s core, and everyone will lie down—then we’re ready.”
Yang Chengzi and the master removed their outer garments, bit their fingers and wrote their birth dates in blood on the clothes, then tossed them into the air, chanting and stomping down with the right foot.
The clothes fell into the Arhat array as if two people had collapsed.
Chen San watched closely, shifting his gaze between the clothes and Yang Chengzi.
“No, no, it looks like two people actually fell over there!”
Yang Chengzi said, “It’s a Maoshan spell—transformation magic. If you become a Taoist, I can teach you.”
Chen San rolled his eyes and lay beside the master, silent.
Sui Chang Monk, seeing the spell complete, said, “Everyone lie within the circle—don’t leave. It’s not large, so squeeze in. Give the girl some space.”
Chang Yu sat down obediently, smiling at Sui Chang Monk. “The master knows how to care for people, unlike Chen San, who always teases me!”
Chen San, lying down, felt tired and wanted to sleep, ignoring Chang Yu.
Sui Chang Monk sat cross-legged in the center. When everyone was settled, he pressed his palms together, closed his eyes, unwound the beads from his neck, wrapping them around his thumbs, still chanting incomprehensible scripture.
No one knew how long he chanted. If the master hadn’t toppled over onto Chen San’s leg, Chen San would have been lulled to sleep by the chanting.
Both arrays were set, vital energy vanished, and the master’s and Yang Chengzi’s clothes lay in the Arhat array. All was prepared, awaiting the phantom demon’s appearance.
On the desolate ground, the group lay huddled. Though autumn hadn’t come yet, the wind chilled them. Chang Yu, shivering after a short while, had no blanket or quilt. She tried to squeeze next to Yang Chengzi, but Chen San blocked her, so she looked up at Chen San, sleeping soundly, unsure if he was truly asleep or feigning.
The wind howled, adding to the bleakness. She had never endured hardship—coming out to find Yang Chengzi was hard enough, though her parents had agreed. Sharing a bed with villagers was manageable, but at least there was a bed. Now, not even a blanket, let alone a bed. She thought of her soft, warm quilt at home and Cui’er, who kept her company.