Apramāṇa Bat Yaoguai Chiefs
Location
Found by following the coastline north-east of the North Shrine of the Bitter Lake. May disappear if not confronted before defeating Yellowbrow and completing Chapter 3.
Description
Years ago, in mountains remote, there was a small temple built by the local villagers. The temple was unattended, housing only a black statue, with dried lamps and an empty censer.
One day, a wandering swordsman passed by and decided to spend the night in the temple before continuing his journey. As he was drifting off to sleep, he suddenly heard the sound of wind behind him. Opening his eyes slightly, he saw the statue on the altar sprout wings and take flight. The creature had scythe-like claws on its feet. Terrified, the swordsman quickly rolled over, drew his sword, and engaged in a fierce battle with the statue, eventually slaying it.
The next morning, the villagers gathered outside the temple, bringing flowers and wine to thank the swordsman for ridding them of the yaoguai. They explained that many such temples in the mountains were inhabited by these yaoguai disguised as statues and asked the swordsman to eliminate them all. Seeing the villagers had brought a great deal of silver, greed overtook him, and he agreed, asking them to lead the way.
Surrounded by the villagers, who praised and urged him on, the swordsman was led deep into the forest to a larger ancient temple. As soon as he entered the hall, he saw incense burning high and candles glowing brightly. On the altar sat a larger statue, similar in appearance to the one he had killed before, but coated in gold, with a particularly majestic and imposing presence. Sensing danger, the swordsman tried to flee, but the statue took flight, flapping its wings to unleash a frosty wind that froze him in place.
Watching the golden statue used its hooked claws to pierce the swordsman’s shoulders and drag him into the back of the temple, the villagers all knelt and made their wishes. The next day, everything they had wished for appeared at their doorsteps.
Poetry
Dwelling in a Buddha’s form,
With wings to ride the wind’s storm.
An iron heart, through toil it sings,
A golden shell, in splendor it springs.
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