Tarthocas : Chronicles of the Transmigrating Scribe

Ling Xuan stood there, completely shocked. The only construction he was connected to was The Construction of The Ox Pathway! His mind raced with questions. How did the priest know about his most guarded secret?

“How did he know!?” Ling Xuan muttered, his thoughts swirling. But he quickly brushed the thought away. It wasn’t the priest who had spoken those words; it was something else, something far more powerful and knowledgeable.

“Avalokiteśvara Isle, eh?” Ling Xuan’s emotions slowly bubbled down, replaced by a resolute determination. He felt an urge to get away from the forest, which he did without hesitation. He moved swiftly, his thoughts focused on the new destination and what it might hold for him.

As Ling Xuan left, the priest’s eyes flickered open, a strange clarity in his gaze. He slowly rose and inspected his surroundings. The unconscious individuals lay scattered around him, and a dark expression crossed his face. He clenched his hand into a fist.

BAM!

The bodies of the individuals exploded into a bloody mist, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood. The crimson cloud hung in the air for a moment before dissipating, leaving a gruesome scene in its wake.

“Our Lord Almighty has considered ye sinful,” the priest muttered, his voice tinged with a hint of regret and sadness. He then turned and went on his way, the forest growing silent once more, as if absorbing the grim event that had just transpired.

As Ling Xuan sat on the bed, his mind churned with the events that had transpired. A single mystery tugged at him, gnawing at his thoughts. The Temple, that skull, that priest—each element was a piece of a larger, perplexing puzzle.

What was the skull? How was the priest able to give power to the attackers? These questions confused Ling Xuan to no end. The more he thought about it, the more tangled the web of mysteries became.

“Avalokiteśvara Isle,” Ling Xuan murmured to himself, scribbling the name on a piece of paper. He stared at the unfamiliar characters, his brow furrowed in concentration. The name wasn’t like anything he had ever heard in this world.

“Whatever, I’ll find out tomorrow,” Ling Xuan thought, trying to set his mind at ease. He folded the piece of paper and tucked it into his robe, then lay down to rest. As sleep overtook him, his mind was a storm of possibilities and plans, each more tantalizing and dangerous than the last.

The morning sun filtered through the window, casting a warm glow on Ling Xuan's face. He woke up feeling a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Today, he would begin his search for Avalokiteśvara Isle.

As Ling Xuan sat in the inn, eating his toasted potato with curd, his mind was still preoccupied with the mysterious name. He chewed slowly, lost in thought. The inn's dining area was bustling with activity, the clatter of dishes and the hum of conversation filling the air, but Ling Xuan barely noticed.

His mind kept returning to the events of the previous day—the priest, the skull, and the attackers imbued with strange powers. And always, the name: Avalokiteśvara Isle.

He needed to find someone knowledgeable about ancient languages and mystical places. As Ling Xuan paid for his food, someone called out to him.

“Didn’t expect to see you here!” As Ling Xuan turned around, he was surprised to find the speaker.

It was none other than the matchmaker he had met on the ship during his journey to the Archipelago.

“What are you doing here?” Ling Xuan asked.

“Oh, this was my destination. Do you remember the time I said I had looked into your strings? Well, there I saw us meeting today, and I guess you want to find out whether Avalokiteśvara Isle exists, right?”

“The ability to perceive strings of fate is really useful, isn’t it?” Ling Xuan praised.

“No, nothing of the sort. As I had mentioned previously, your fate is extremely constant. It has not even a single change. Thus, seeing your strings is equivalent to seeing the truest form of the future,” the matchmaker revealed.

“Ah, I see. Can you say where this Isle is?” Ling Xuan went straight to the main topic.

“Hahaha, the answer is extremely simple. You see, Avalokiteśvara Isle is the meaning of the actual word and not the true name of it.”

“Then what is?”

“Chenrezig Ling! The first island of the Archipelago where the Maitreya of Shambhala resides!” At once, Ling Xuan understood the matchmaker's revelation.

“Thank you, Senior!” Ling Xuan bowed deeply.

“Hahaha, it’s nothing. I have benefited immensely from you as well! Because of your strings, I have perceived the coming future! I will only give you this advice which I’ve seen from the future: drink the gourd and devour the apple!” The matchmaker spoke with a stern expression.

“Alright, I’ll do that.” Although Ling Xuan hadn’t a single clue as to what the matchmaker meant, he still listened.

“Very well, you should get going now. The ship to Dewa Ling should be leaving soon. Here is the ticket.” Saying this, the matchmaker handed Ling Xuan a small, intricately designed ticket before walking away once again.

As Ling Xuan made his way to the docks, the morning hustle and bustle of the marketplace surrounded him. Merchants shouted out their wares, children ran through the streets, and the smell of freshly baked bread and exotic spices filled the air. Despite the vibrant atmosphere, Ling Xuan’s mind was focused on the journey ahead.

The docks were a hive of activity. Sailors loaded cargo onto ships, and passengers milled about, preparing for their voyages. Ling Xuan scanned the area for the ship bound for Dewa Ling and soon found it—a sturdy vessel with sails billowing in the morning breeze.

He approached the gangplank, ticket in hand. The ship's crew, noticing his approach, nodded and allowed him to board. Ling Xuan made his way to the deck, finding a spot near the railing where he could watch the harbour as the ship prepared to depart.

“Drink the gourd and devour the apple, eh? Let’s see what the Maitreya hides on that island.” Ling Xuan muttered to himself, gazing at the retreating shoreline. As the ship sailed away, he looked back at the island, watching the great temple tower above everything. Slowly, it faded into nothingness as he ventured farther away, a sense of anticipation building within him.

As Ling Xuan journeyed to his next destination, on Chenrezig Ling, a certain individual sat in deep meditation. Ankles crossed and clothed in elaborate jewellery, the figure exuded an aura of serenity and power. The air around them seemed to hum with energy.

Suddenly, their eyes snapped open, a piercing gaze cutting through the dimly lit chamber.

“Pralaya is arriving,” they whispered, the words filled with a chilling certainty.