Golden Light Incantation
1458 Words
The priest glanced in the direction of Clown's finger and began to explain:
"This is the Alarm Bell crafted by the Church; it requires no clapper. Whenever evil spirits or monsters manifest nearby, the bell will sound."
The old gatekeeper standing at the door felt a chill run down his spine.
He recalled being awoken last night by a sound that seemed to be the bell, but upon listening more closely, he heard nothing further.
Nick continued, "The sound of the Alarm Bell is crisp and can travel great distances; it can awaken even the deepest sleeper. Should an evil creature appear, both the church and the nearby residents will hear it."
I must have misheard last night; if it truly was the bell, the priest would have heard it too. The old man felt a weight lift from his chest.
"Come, let us have breakfast. I will perform the purification ceremony at your home."
...
At the police station, Clown was checking his belongings.
An old book on herbalism—no issues there.
A set of keys—no issues.
A revolver, loaded with six rounds but lacking bullets.
Clown grimaced; he had always kept this g*n fully loaded.
"Officer, I remember handing over a few coins when I arrived."
"You must be mistaken," the tall, slender officer replied coolly. "Unless you have any other matters, you are free to go."
Shaking his head, Clown quickly exited the police station; the priest had already gone ahead to his home.
...
Following the route in his memory, Clown jogged to his residence on Skunk Street.
He took out his keys and opened the door, calling out, "Please come in, Father."
As he pushed the door open and entered the room, he immediately sensed an inexplicable chill in the air.
Nick opened the Holy Fire Bible and began to chant the sacred verses: "In the dwelling of the faithful, let evil be banished; let impurities be purified in the flames of our Lord."
At last, he lifted the holy emblem before his chest; the circular medallion radiated light, growing intensely warm, casting both light and heat in all directions.
As the priest moved, Clown felt the icy atmosphere gradually dissipate.
He gazed at the emblem, which had returned to its original form, his heart ablaze with fervor.
For someone accustomed to the mundane life of modern society, witnessing such supernatural phenomena was profoundly impactful.
The priest proceeded to other rooms, repeating his actions.
Before long, all the rooms had been purified, and the two began to converse.
"Knock, knock, knock!"
Suddenly, a loud rap sounded from outside the door.
"Open the door quickly," came an anxious voice.
Who could this be? Is someone in a hurry to be reborn? Clown wondered as he opened the door.
A plump, dark-faced officer stood at the threshold.
He peered inside and, seeing Nick, exclaimed like a savior, "Father, Captain Hel requests your presence at Tavern Street."
He hurriedly approached Nick and whispered a few words.
The priest's expression shifted dramatically, his eyes narrowing.
"I'm off. Remember to gather the debts; I will come to collect in a few days."
Nick uttered these words and departed hastily, with the dark-faced officer closely trailing him.
Debts, you say? How brazenly you demand payment! Clown grimaced and began to tidy up the house.
...
These greedy hyenas, these filthy maggots!
Clown cursed as he threw a bag of moldy oats onto the ground.
He swept the house, discovering it had been turned upside down, with all valuable items missing!
Even two red beechwood chairs had vanished without a trace.
Evil spirits were evidently not interested in such things.
Unquestionably, it was those officers who had taken them.
He walked to the small courtyard behind the house, crouching down to inspect the ash-covered stove, feeling a wave of relief.
Praise be to the Lord of Flames; my father's savings are still intact!
Beneath the modest stove, I dug and dug.
Clown picked up a small trowel nearby, clearing away the ashes, and dug deeper for several centimeters until he unearthed a dark ceramic jar.
The jar, the size of a pot, was wrapped in thick layers of linen.
Using the trowel, he sliced through the sealing cord and turned it upside down, letting a small pile of gleaming gold coins tumble out, each bearing the profile of the king.
His father was the only herbalist in town; this was their family's entire savings.
Charming little treasures!
Clown felt a surge of affection for the bearded man depicted on the coins.
Counting, he found thirty-six gold shields.
Is this auspicious number urging me to flee and escape my debts?
With a silent grin, he set aside twelve coins, returned the rest to the jar, sealed it up, and buried it once more.
Clown returned indoors and sat down, pondering his future path.
In his past life, he lived aimlessly, pinching pennies, dreaming of marrying a wife when he was older—no children, just two people making a life together, supporting each other through their arguments until death.
Now, in this extraordinary, magical world, with a skillful advantage, he refused to live a mundane existence!
He longed for adventure, to explore the different landscapes of this world.
Very well, I shall set forth once I possess sufficient strength!
He would repay the priest, provided he could learn the source of that mysterious power from him.
Otherwise, he would simply delay!
As for accumulating interest, that was no concern! Fleeing could solve most issues, including debts!
...
What powers do evil spirits possess? The herbs and food in his home had grown moldy and rotten, as if they had been exposed to dampness for months.
Clown pondered, pinching his nose as he discarded the spoiled items into the street's refuse pit, then returned to the house.
He was eager to experiment with how to acquire skill proficiency and gain new abilities.
The skills from his previous life had already appeared on the golden wall, and he wondered if he could transform some of his past experiences into new skills.
As a competent keyboard warrior, he had a vast array of knowledge, knowing a little about everything.
First, he warmed up with a series of five lightning-fast whip strikes.
Then, he earnestly practiced the first eight forms of the twenty-four basic Tai Chi movements.
That was the extent of his knowledge.
An hour passed, and a sweaty Clown stood with his feet together, pressing his hands down lightly.
Finishing his practice, the golden wall appeared.
What a waste!
No new skills emerged.
Was it a lack of foundation, or was there another reason?
Clown contemplated, ready to try several different skills.
He retrieved a kitchen knife, envisioning a wooden post before him, and diligently began to chop. During the chopping, he focused intently on his technique.
I chop, chop, chop!
Half an hour passed, and still nothing.
Clown found paper and pen, writing a segment of code with far more seriousness than during his past work, yet it bore no fruit.
‘Thus have I heard: At one time, the Buddha was in the country of Shravasti at the Jeta Grove, in the garden of Anathapindika, with a thousand two hundred fifty great bhikkhus.’
He gazed despondently at the golden wall, this man who could only recite the first chapter of the Diamond Sutra smiled bitterly.
Perhaps the Buddha never came to this world.
Now, there was only one method he had yet to try.
Once, while working overtime late into the night, he returned to his rented room on a shared bicycle, suffering from nightmares for a long time despite invoking deities and making prayers.
Ultimately, he received an answer from an old Taoist priest at a small temple.
With a head of white hair but a youthful face, the old priest told him he had encountered something unclean, teaching him the Golden Light Mantra and visualization method.
He had initially had little hope in receiving these teachings.
This mantra was also available online, and he had certainly tried it.
The old priest explained that chanting the mantra served only to consolidate scattered thoughts, allowing for true focus of the mind.
The visualization method was the core, dependent on his ability to grasp the divine intent within.
Desperate measures turned fruitful; after practicing for half a month, it truly worked, and he no longer suffered nightmares.
Clown sat cross-legged on the ground, forming the Golden Light Mudra with his hands, gently closing his eyes and taking deep breaths to regulate his emotions.
When his thoughts became calm like an ancient well, he began to visualize a silver-white full moon suspended not far before him, illuminating his entire being.
- Writer
