Chapter 1901 - Teaching Through Divine Means

The New Daoist platform stood out immediately. Ringed by colorful banners proclaiming "National Peace and Prosperity" and "Reverence to Heaven, Prayers for Blessings," the ritual stage bristled with scripture streamers. At each corner hung or stood curious objects unlike anything the crowd had seen before—most notably, a massive horn-shaped speaker from which Daoqing ballads poured forth, the same melodies the Daoists had been singing through the streets these past days.

The crowd had witnessed ritual performances before—knife mountains, fire walking, cloud tower ascents, and the like—but never such an elaborate theatrical stage. Intrigued by the novelty, spectators found spots to stand or sit, settling in to wait. Vendors wove through the masses, hawking snacks, seeds, and sour plum soup with practiced voices. The scene buzzed with extraordinary vitality.

Soon, a procession of Daoists emerged from behind a curtained enclosure near the riverbank. Leading them came a portly priest resplendent in ceremonial robes embroidered with gold and silver thread, a Purple Gold Lotus Crown perched upon his head. Instead of the traditional court tablet, however, he bore a strange black rod. Behind him, young disciples advanced in two orderly rows—blue-robed boys and green-robed girls—chanting ancient melodies as they processed forward.

Though they sang without apparent effort, their voices carried with crystalline clarity to every corner of the plaza:

I bow my head to the Void, the Unsurpassed Way, Great Compassionate Deliverer from Suffering. Divine light shines a hundred billion rays through dark chaos, Spreading clouds of mercy, sprinkling the rain of Dharma.

The Gorge Stone's cold netherworld, the Prison Without Interval, The Blood Lake, Blood Sea, Blood Basin Pool. The Jade Register grants great amnesty to all sinful souls, Release them from sinking, untold kalpas of suffering.

...

A Daoist priest in the crowd nodded to himself, murmuring: "These Australian Daoists also follow the Great Way of the Supreme Lord. Listen—they're chanting the Yuanshi Tianzun's True Scripture for Saving All from the Blood Lake." His companion merely nodded in silent acknowledgment.

The procession mounted the altar, but instead of performing the traditional invocation, the young disciples divided by gender, forming two flanking columns. The portly priest advanced to the altar's center and drew back the curtain, revealing a long offering table. Strangely, no three animal sacrifices graced its surface—only simple offerings of fragrant flowers, fresh fruits, and water. Behind the table hung a portrait of the Three Pure Ones.

Before this sacred image, the priest did not kneel. He simply held three sticks of sandalwood incense, bowed three times, and placed them in the burner.

The two Daoist observers stared in disbelief. The younger tugged at his elder companion's sleeve, stammering: "Ma-Master, he... he didn't even kneel before the Three Pure Ancestors!" The old Daoist merely shook his head with a heavy sigh.

Then Archpriest Cui took center stage, clad in ritual robes with a wooden sword thrust through his sash. His expression radiated righteous solemnity. When he intoned his memorial oration, his voice rang like a great bell, nearly drowning the commotion at the platform's edges.

The memorial proclaimed:

Alas! In this moment when Guangzhou submits to our rule and the Great Song rises anew, evil ones emerged—harvesting the living, maiming innocents, practicing gu-witchcraft and curses to hex the Elders. Yet our Great Song holds Heaven's Mandate: the dragon energy of the Ram City gathers once more. The Elders of the Great Song are Heaven's chosen, naturally blessed by passing spirits. These ghost-cavern tricks found no purchase against them. Enraged and humiliated, the fiends unleashed pestilence upon the common folk instead. Our innocents suffered this fell harm. Where shall wandering ghosts dwell? How shall roaming spirits find peace?

I make this vow to deliver departed souls and roaming ghosts, composing this funeral oration for their transcendence. I ponder the sorrow of those afflicted by gu-poisoning, the grief of subjects struck by plague, and all the netherworld's resentful spirits. May they hold penitent hearts and cherish thoughts of goodness, sincerely repent and reform, comprehend life and death, abandon rancor for virtue. May they be reborn in the Pure Land or transform into human form, escaping the bitter path, transcending ice and fire, perfecting the Great Way, returning to Nature. Only then may the work of salvation succeed in accordance with the Way of Heaven and Earth.

I have bathed in incense, walked barefoot with hair unbound, set the pure altar with fragrant flowers. The Lotus Waters birth talismans of Fire Refinement; the mist of incense rises like the Milky Way of Heaven. Lanterns and candles array themselves in the pattern of the Dipper; the ritual platform embodies the numerology of Heaven and Earth. Radiant light illuminates all; fire responds to the morning star; brilliance rivals sun and moon, shining through the Nine Darknesses. Vestments of gold and purple, silk sashes coiled with dragons. The altar soars high, nine upon nine forming the citadel. The memorial tablet bears inscriptions of thunder; the commands carry mysterious song.

Celestial music rises on all sides; bells and chimes play in harmony. In my left hand I hold sweet dew, the willow branch dripping sap. In my right I carry the jade talisman, its spells intricately carved. My feet tread the Eight Trigrams, stepping through the void to receive the departed. I worship the Five Elders, breaking open the prison to save the dead. Water and fire refine and save; the bright moon illuminates their souls; the pure sea washes their forms. I sprinkle sweet dew to pacify their hun-souls; I command the jade talisman to restore their po-spirits. They mount the Platform of the Seven Stars, performing the ritual protocol of Dizang. My lips chant divine incantations; my sword transforms into talismans. Celestial mist enfolds them; the Three Flowers gather at the Crown in flames of light; the Five Qi return to the Origin on a lotus throne.

I drink water from the Three Rivers and spray it as the mist of the Mysterious Heaven. I dance in the Primordial Garments, conjuring shadows of the Great Void. I summon Heavenly Warriors as generals who open the prison gates; I call Celestial Youths to guide souls across the Blood Lake. The Five-Colored Gold Banners summon souls and call the dead. When the souls return, may they peacefully proceed to the Human Path to be transformed into bodies. The Seven-Colored Sandalwood Incense captures souls and gathers fortune. When the souls return, may they peacefully enjoy human virtues and be reborn as the worthy.

With vermilion brush I inscribe the talisman; with golden ink I write the register. Fire and candle blaze bright, illuminating all directions. Transform resentment and dissolve guilt; pray for peace and safety. I make this oath to the Underworld: may the departed souls never again wander there. Cultivate virtue, practice goodness, pacify heart and establish destiny—to repay the virtue of Heaven and Earth, to inherit the transformation of Yin and Yang, to greatly save the Netherworld, to fulfill the vow of Dizang, bowing in supplication to the Azure Mystery.

I worship the Heavenly Worthy; I prostrate before the Bodhisattva. With humble will I deliver the departed spirits. May they be reborn soon and return to peace.

With this text I make offering to the departed souls. Alas, please enjoy, partake of our offering. Hear the Dharma and be delivered. Universal salvation to all departed spirits.

Cui Hantang shook the Three Pure Ones bell, chanting his incantations in a resonant voice. He wielded the sword in one hand while treading the Dipper steps. Flames burst from his mouth, purifying the four directions. When he completed the deliverance ritual, he sheathed his sword and stood at attention. The talisman in his palm ignited spontaneously. He shouted: "The Lord of Mount Tai has thrown wide the Ghost Gate! Why have you not yet been reborn?!"

A column of black vapor erupted from the platform, accompanied by piercing, ear-splitting shrieks. Within the roiling darkness, countless ghostly figures seemed to writhe and dance. Spectators trembled. The more timid collapsed in fright, covering their eyes. Moments later, the black vapor dispersed. Though the sky remained clear and cloudless, a rainbow now arched horizontally above the platform, resplendent in seven colors.

Those at the front felt faint moisture in the air—subtle yet unmistakable, cool and indescribably comfortable, like sweet dew descended from heaven. They stood transfixed. Those in the back rows, unable to feel that "cool, fragrant" sensation, discussed the rainbow with great animation. The young Daoist exhaled a turbid breath and said: "Master, this priest possesses profound Daoist arts!" He turned for his master's response, only to find the old Daoist wide-eyed, throat making weak "heh-heh" sounds—he'd nearly fainted from shock. The young Daoist hastily supported him, alternately thumping his back and rubbing his chest until the old man recovered enough to sit slumped on the ground, speechless.

After Cui Hantang departed, sixteen new disciples mounted the stage—eight male, eight female. Spectators wondered what sorcery would follow, but the disciples simply formed two rows in crisp blue practice uniforms. Standing proudly among them, sword drawn, was a tall green-robed Daoist—none other than Elder Fu Meng, who had joined at the perfect moment.

Music poured from the loudspeakers. Elder Fu gave a long whistle, drew his longsword, and loosened his topknot. He moved gracefully to the music, dancing and singing. The disciples joined with clear voices:

I grieve in divine sorrow, loosening the reins toward Fusang. Gently I stroke the long sword, jade pendants chiming, raising my cup to drink the Turbid River.

High I fly in peaceful soaring, pure breath commanding Yin and Yang. Roaming all about, among stars and Milky Way unending, sun and moon together shining.

Green clouds my robe, white rainbow my sash, My long arrows shot at the Heavenly Wolf...

Fu Meng's martial arts background shone through brilliantly. His hybrid performance—Taiji sword forms blended with square-dancing moves—dazzled the eye. Elders unfamiliar with the backstory couldn't help but admire: "How dashing and handsome! When did New Daoism acquire such a figure?"

"First ghosts and spirits, now a variety show. What exactly is Archpriest Cui doing?" Mu Min surveyed the memorial scene. What trace of solemn dignity remained? The entire affair had devolved into a temple fair.

While New Daoism staged its lively performance, the Buddhists across the way refused to be outdone. Cymbals clashed as monks chanted sutras in unison, performing "flower forms" and other entertainments that attracted considerable crowds.

The Catholics, however, could only muster elderly nuns from the Lingao Convent in black robes singing hymns—their entertainment value paled in comparison. An open-air Mass lacked the mysterious atmosphere of a towering, cavernous cathedral. Though the newly appointed Bishop of Guangzhou, Ma Yangchun, exerted himself completely, performing the full Requiem Mass with "the most supremely solemn bearing," attendance was sparse. Only a few hundred Guangzhou church members participated below.

"While relatives still grieve, strangers have already begun to sing. Such is life, nothing more," Liu Xiang remarked, assuming a pose of deep contemplation.

"This memorial ceremony is one thing, but bringing in the Three Great Religions for this performance—won't the Senate..." Lin Baiguang voiced some concern.

"Teaching through divine means merely serves the education of the masses," Liu Xiang replied. "At this stage, the cultural level of the masses remains universally low. Religious belief can educate and restrain them quite usefully. I believe the Senate majority will understand—so long as we don't publicly declare support for any particular denomination." He called out: "Chief Mu."

"What is it?"

"Next, Archpriest Cui will conduct an eighteen-day Grand Luotian Jiao at the Temple of the Five Immortals. Assign some National Army soldiers and police to help maintain order. And make sure to count the days carefully—not one day fewer!"

Mu Min recognized Liu Xiang's intent to needle Archpriest Cui—eighteen consecutive days of ritual would surely exhaust him. Still, the Archpriest had flesh to spare; he could probably endure. Suppressing her laughter, she replied: "Understood. I'll definitely assist and supervise him."

"Alright, the memorial is handled. Now for the trial phase." He looked at Shen Ruiming. "How do you plan to arrange it?"

"Personnel composition first: Liang Xinhu will preside as judge. I'll serve as prosecutor myself, with young Elder Zhang as my assistant. Any other requirements? Should we arrange associate judges or jurors?"

"Associate judges and jurors—I don't think that's necessary. We fundamentally follow the civil law system; jury trials belong to the common law tradition. Moreover, given current social conditions, that would essentially give local gentry a green light to interfere with the judiciary."

"You're a woman—in traditional thinking, women embody benevolence and compassion. And you're also an Elder. Having you appear as defense counsel couldn't be more appropriate."

"To be honest, I really don't want to defend these beasts—just reading the case files makes me want to vomit!" Zhang Yunmi still harbored psychological resistance.

Shen Ruiming offered further encouragement. Liu Xiang and Liang Xinhu also rallied her, finally stabilizing her emotions.

Today's meeting essentially served as a "director's conference"—a thorough review of trial procedures for tomorrow's public trial of the thirteen principal defendants, ensuring optimal effect.

All legal documents had been carefully revised—opening statements, indictments, defense briefs, even confessions and witness testimonies. Shen Ruiming's requirement: "No loopholes, no logical problems, complete in every detail."

The first two points proved relatively easy—after all, they had solid evidence and weren't fabricating false cases. But "complete in every detail"—those four words presented real difficulty. The prisoners had endured countless torments, tortured to the brink of death and back, all to extract specific details from their memories.

The prisoners had all privately accepted a deal: confess and follow trial procedures. In exchange, Shen Ruiming guaranteed two things—first, they would not suffer death by a thousand cuts; second, after death, their bodies would not be handed over to Cui Hantang for disposal. The latter prospect seemed to frighten these cold-blooded killers even more than the former.

Nevertheless, Shen Ruiming insisted on preparing contingency plans, particularly for gathering witness testimony and physical evidence—in case any defendant suddenly recanted or testimonies contained discrepancies.

"This is our first lesson in modern law for Guangzhou—indeed, for all the people of the Ming. A legal education. Mere success is insufficient. Our standard is 'perfect and flawless!'" Shen Ruiming declared.