Chapter Thirty-Six: The Devouring Power of the Soul

The so-called Soul Devourer refers to the act of consuming the souls of living beings. Observing the posture assumed by the bodyguard before me, I finally understood its purpose. This stance is not some ritual, but rather a position designed to facilitate the separation of the body and soul. The left hand forms the Clear Bottle Seal, driving the soul out of the flesh, while the bent legs and upward-tilted head, with the features turned toward the sky, enable the absorption of the essence of heaven and earth through the senses, gathering it into a force that envelops the soul as it leaves the body, slowly drawing it into the stone, where it is gradually corrupted and devoured.

This is the Soul Devourer.

The stone possesses the power of soul-devouring, forcing me to proceed with utmost caution. Ancient texts record that the Soul Devourer's power requires a medium for transmission, and this medium must be an object of Triple Darkness.

Triple Darkness refers first to the place of ultimate yin, second to the body of ultimate yin, and third to the time of ultimate yin. This stone must possess all three, and the odds of meeting these conditions are a hundred times rarer than winning the lottery.

At that moment, I suddenly sensed the presence of the spirit once more; it had reappeared. Previously, it had been extremely weak, but now its weakness was not so simple—it was also wailing, emitting a sound like a cat's cry, trickling into my ears.

What surprised me was that this time, it had come to seek me out, as if pleading for help. When I had called to it earlier, it had been bewildered, not expecting I possessed such ability.

I relaxed as much as possible, letting it sense I held no hostility. Though it called to me, it remained wary.

To dispel its suspicion, I unconsciously began chanting the Heart Sutra in my mind, employing the skill of Buddhist chanting.

Buddhist chanting is the most basic practice for any cultivator. Whether a monk or a Taoist, whether Eastern or Western, all religious practitioners have this course of practice. Chanting uses one's inner peace, conveyed through the voice, to transmit tranquility to others, creating a sense of serenity. This is somewhat akin to hypnosis in psychology, though hypnosis uses a medium to affect the nerves, while Buddhist chanting uses sound, with many differences and similarities.

I became a university lecturer in psychology not because I met the requisite qualifications, but by chance, using Buddhist chanting to rescue a hostage from a violent man. Not wishing to reveal my skill, I told others I had used hypnosis, and soon many came to consult me about hypnosis.

My chanting was not necessarily better than my peers', but with my unique abilities, I could combine chanting with Taoist techniques, making its effect a hundred times stronger.

The secret meaning of "Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva" is this: the true mind and the illusory mind operate together, declaring that beings of the desire realm function through the union of the eight consciousnesses. One who can thus observe is called Avalokiteshvara.

The realm of "Avalokiteshvara" implies both the observer and the observed, hence the name. Yet the mind that observes is not free, but uses its capacity to witness another mind that is inherently free; finding this mind and being able to observe it is to be Avalokiteshvara.

The Heart Sutra, beyond expressing a sense of tranquility and peace, also instills steadfastness in one's beliefs and transcends sensory perceptions.

As I chanted, the spirit within the stone reacted with extraordinary vitality, as if injected with a stimulant; its previously weak and pained expression became much more comfortable. What surprised me even more was that the Soul Devourer seemed highly averse to my chanting, growing extremely tense.

Suddenly, I understood why the ancient records mention the Soul Devourer first appeared in a temple, where monks’ chanting was heard daily, and it was subdued there. Now, encountering Buddhist chanting again, how could it not be wary?

This realization delighted me, and I intensified my chanting, elevating it to its highest form. The more I chanted, the livelier the spirit became, while the Soul Devourer's power weakened correspondingly.

As I focused my mental strength, delivering the chanting into the stone, the Soul Devourer’s formation was thrown into disarray, forced to resist the Buddhist sound.

Abruptly, the bodyguard’s hand loosened, and the stone dropped to the floor as he collapsed against a chair, his pistol falling from his body.

I glanced at him; he was no longer under the Soul Devourer’s control, though his vitality had been greatly drained, leaving him pallid.

Distracted by the bodyguard, my focus lapsed; I sensed the spirit within the stone sighing, radiating a profound despair. Its pitiful voice weighed heavily on me, believing I would abandon it after saving the bodyguard.

Seeing the bodyguard had merely fainted, I shifted my attention back to the stone, once again communicating with the spirit, apologizing for what had just happened.

As expected, it responded immediately to my call, full of joy and surprise, not anticipating my willingness to help. Yet it did not know how I could aid it. My chanting comforted it, but whether it could save it remained uncertain.

Unable to communicate in words, we relied on feelings to understand each other. I raised my chanting to its highest level, pouring all my mental strength into it. The Soul Devourer’s power was forced by my energy to retreat gradually into the stone; as its attraction dissipated entirely, I believed the spirit would be safe.

For the first time in two years, I pushed my mental strength to its limit. Though I practiced daily, this confrontation made me feel inadequate.

The attraction was gone, but the spirit sighed deeply, expressing an intense disappointment that I could not comprehend.

I tried communicating again; this time, it went smoothly, its trust in me greatly increased, with no guard. After this experience, it knew that if I meant it harm, it could not resist.

We sensed each other’s hearts—my desire to help, and its amazement and excitement. I also felt its loneliness and delight. Having lingered in one place for untold years, it had grown weary of such existence. This calmness allowed it to enter a state of cultivation, but just as it began to achieve something, it encountered the Soul Devourer. The Soul Devourer tried to corrupt it, but their powers were not far apart. The two forces struggled, yet the Soul Devourer gradually gained the upper hand, slowly devouring it.

Yet escaping the Soul Devourer seemed impossible. I didn’t know why, but sensed that only by thoroughly defeating the Soul Devourer could I rescue the spirit.

If saving one soul meant harming another, I would never do so, finding it utterly despicable. But seeing the Soul Devourer’s evil, I realized it must be subdued, or else many innocents, like Tang Xin, would suffer.

Thinking of Tang Xin chilled my heart—I had been here so long, how could I forget him? It was already two o’clock; two hours had passed in this room. There were three hours left until dawn.

Tang Xin’s problem was the loss of one soul and one spirit, and tonight’s task was to retrieve his soul. I had feared my actions would delay this, but encountering the Soul Devourer made me feel more at ease.

By chance, I had assumed Tang Xin’s soul would return to a place he cherished in life, but remembered that his current state was due to the Soul Devourer’s consumption.

As I grew anxious, the spirit sensed my thoughts, and revealed something that filled me with joy.

The Soul Devourer loves to consume human souls, but each time it draws a soul into the stone, it cannot immediately corrupt it; instead, it must slowly assimilate each soul. The spirit within the stone, unwilling to let the Soul Devourer grow stronger, always tries to snatch away the souls it draws in, preventing it from touching them whenever possible.

Perhaps the Soul Devourer believes these souls are destined to be its food, so it does not care. In other words, Tang Xin’s soul is now within the stone, but due to its peculiar nature, it is like an iron cage—if the cage is opened, the soul must still pass the Soul Devourer to escape.

To thank me for helping it this time, the spirit promised that if I could subdue the Soul Devourer, it would help me retrieve Tang Xin’s soul, and asked me to free it as well.

The stone is an iron cage to them, likely due to its material. I recall records mentioning the Earth’s magnetic field has positive and negative poles, yin and yang. Because opposites attract, many objects are drawn to each other, and spirits, being a collection of energy, are no exception. The body and soul are like a pair before life; when one dies, only the body perishes, the soul remains. The soul is a remnant force in the universe, but its survival in space is weak, so when a person dies, the soul must find its own space—perhaps the underworld.

If it does not go to the underworld, it needs a medium to attach to. For example, someone killed by a knife may have their soul attached to the blade; someone struck by a car may attach to the vehicle.

When no external force separates body and soul, the soul must find a place to dwell. That stone may possess such ability.

The Soul Devourer relies on absorbing human souls to grow stronger. In the spiritual realm this is common, as humans consume animals to survive. But from a human perspective, Soul Devourer is unacceptable. Such evil, harming its own kind, must be eliminated.

Having analyzed all this, I gained a certain understanding of them and resolved upon a course of action.

Whether to save the spirit or Tang Xin, I was determined to use all means to subdue the Soul Devourer. After communicating with the spirit in the stone, I asked it to work with me—when I attacked the Soul Devourer, it should seize the opportunity to escape.