Wu Tong and Zhao Rou stayed several days at the county residence in Penglai, enjoying rare family harmony with his elder brother Wu Xun, who was already married with children. Yet one evening, just as Wu Tong was preparing to depart, Wu Xun returned from the yamen with a troubled expression.
"Brother," he said gravely, "a case has just been reported that is most difficult. I fear only your skills of the jianghu can resolve it."
Wu Tong was startled. "What matter troubles you so? Allow me to share your burden."
Wu Xun explained, "A band of monks has come forward, claiming to follow the Maitreya Sect. Their leader calls himself the reincarnation of the Buddha Maitreya—'The True Lord Maitreya.' In reality, they plunder temples and monasteries, seizing lands and wealth, murdering monks and nuns. They are but butchers dressed as bodhisattvas. This is a grave matter; the constables are helpless against them. Tomorrow, I will send men with you to investigate. Will you go?"
"Such a thing exists?" Wu Tong exclaimed. "Brother, worry not. Tomorrow we will accompany your constables and see this with our own eyes."
At dawn, Wu Tong, Zhao Rou, and the constable Li Lu rode out with several men. After fifty li they reached a small town—and the sight shocked them. Temples burned, images of Buddha smashed, the bodies of monks and nuns strewn across courtyards. Entering one ruined monastery, they gasped aloud: corpses lay sprawled in grotesque heaps.
Within one hall, only a few elderly monks survived. Zhao Rou stepped forward."Master," she asked gently, "why has every monastery here been destroyed? Why have the monks and nuns been slaughtered so?"
The old monk sighed. "I see you are travelers from afar, unknowing of this calamity."
Constable Li Lu came forward. "I am Li Lu, constable of Penglai County. Yesterday monks brought charges to our yamen. Today, by order of County Magistrate Wu, we come to investigate. Master, please tell us the truth."
The old monk's eyes dimmed. "A group has arisen, calling themselves the Maitreya Sect. They claim to save the world's suffering. Their leader proclaims himself the reborn Maitreya Buddha, styling himself 'The True Lord Maitreya.' Yet he teaches robbery and slaughter, urging his followers to murder. He preaches that 'to kill one is to become a bodhisattva of one stage, to kill ten is to advance ten stages.' They shout, 'A new Buddha is born, the old demons must perish!' And strangely, people flock to them in ever greater numbers. Now they boast that next month they will march on Penglai itself, slay the magistrate, and declare a new emperor like An Lushan."
Wu Tong paled. His elder brother was the magistrate—was he not in mortal danger? "Why did you not appeal sooner to the authorities?"
Another old monk answered bitterly, "We did. The magistrate of Wendeng sent officers to suppress them. But the entire force was annihilated. Since then, no officials have dared act."
Only a few old monks remained alive in that vast monastery. Zhao Rou asked, "Then why do you not flee?"
The old monk's voice was faint. "Flee where? An Lushan has seized Chang'an, rebellion spreads. If this so-called True Lord is not stopped, he too will rise in revolt."
Wu Tong nodded grimly. "The venerable one speaks truth." He had heard enough of the sect's twisted practices. The "Maitreya True Lord" displayed false miracles, ensnaring gullible followers. All clad in white, they spoke of the fifty-two stages of bodhisattvahood—especially the ten 'abodes' (the ten-zhus)—and claimed that each life taken advanced them in rank.
Zhao Rou whispered, "Brother Tong, what do you think?"
Wu Tong's eyes darkened with resolve. "If left unchecked, they will indeed storm Penglai. We cannot stand aside. We shall wait for them here, and strike when they come." Turning to the monks, he asked, "When will the Maitreya cult appear?"
"At the hour of Shen," the old monk replied. "They come then to plunder temples and slay monks."
"Then we will be ready," Wu Tong said firmly.
Zhao Rou consoled the monks: "Fear not. Should they dare come, they will not leave alive."
Not long after, shadows flickered outside. A troop of white-robed figures entered. At their head strode the Demon-Subduing Arhat Ge Tianhan. Wu Tong studied him: a square-faced monk of middle height, bald and stern, perhaps in his thirties.
Ge Tianhan sneered, "So, old monk, you dared report us? And found yourself helpers as well?"
The old monk pressed his palms together. "Amitabha… compassion, compassion."
With him came another giant—Demon-Quelling Arhat Zhao Du. He towered nearly eight feet, a body of iron muscle like a bronze statue, robed in ochre, a fierce Vajra embroidered upon his chest. His presence was terrifying, like a wrathful guardian come to life.
Constable Li Lu stepped forth boldly. "I am Constable Li Lu of Penglai! You dare defy the law of the realm?"
Ge Tianhan mocked him. "Oh, the mighty lawman speaks! I am the Maitreya Sect's Demon-Subduing Arhat. This is Demon-Quelling Arhat Zhao Du. Do you not know? The constables Wendeng sent against us are already dead. And yet you dare face us—you are bold indeed."
Li Lu's face flushed with fury. "To slay imperial officers is high treason. You will die for this! I will cut you down here and now!"
He drew his blade and struck.
Ge Tianhan only sneered. "Not so fast. It is I who will kill you first!"
Steel clashed with a resounding clang. The two parted after the first furious exchange. Ge Tianhan snarled: "The monks and nuns of this land are nearly all slain. Only this monastery remains. Good! Now you, too, will be ferried to the Western Paradise!"
With that, he leapt forward, blade flashing. Li Lu met him blow for blow. Though but a constable, his martial skill was not lacking. For ten exchanges they battled fiercely. But then Ge Tianhan lunged in, his blade bearing down like thunder. Li Lu twisted aside, blocking with one stroke and countering with another in a swift spin.
Steel screamed—shraaang!—and a cry of agony tore through the temple…