The madman danced his way back to his shabby dwelling. Seeing that Tashi Damba seemed to have obtained the information he wanted, neither Fang Xin nor Zhang Li stopped him.
In truth, Tashi Damba still had many questions, but he knew there was no point in asking further; the madman wouldn't provide more answers. Watching the figure disappear into the distance, Tashi sighed and said, "Let's go."
Zhang Li glanced at the sky and suggested, "It's getting late. How about we stay here for the night and leave tomorrow?"
Tashi Damba replied, "No, we're heading back tonight." Fang Xin nodded in agreement, motioning for Zhang Li to start the car.
Fang Xin could read Tashi Damba's expression clearly—it was one of reverence and fear. Tashi Damba was afraid of his father. De Ren Laoye was not as tall or physically imposing as Tashi, and he was advanced in years, neither as strong in body nor spirit. Yet, Tashi Damba deeply feared him. In his father's presence, Tashi Damba always behaved like a child who had done something wrong, cautious and on edge. Even a small mistake would make him nervous, and De Ren Laoye didn't need to scold him for Tashi to feel his heart pounding and his hair standing on end. Hearing his father cough was enough to unsettle him.
De Ren Laoye was a great sage in the southern region, and Tashi's family was a traditional aristocratic lineage, known for their strict and numerous rules. As the only son, Tashi felt bound by these rules, helpless under their weight. Each time he returned home, he wished his father were away so he could find solace with his mother. This was especially true in recent years, as Tashi's actions—selling dogs for profit—were something his father disapproved of. De Ren Laoye viewed dogs as sacred beings, messengers from the heavens sent to help and protect humans. He believed they deserved reverence equal to or greater than that of humans. But Tashi's actions—caging and selling dogs—brought him constant reprimands. Whenever his father lectured him, Tashi had to kneel, bow his head, and remain silent, unable to defend himself.
This time, however, was different. Fang Xin was coming along. De Ren Laoye held great respect for Fang Xin, a man of similar age and temperament, and the two shared a mutual admiration for each other's knowledge. From their first meeting, they talked like lifelong friends. Fang Xin's expertise in Tibetan Buddhism, sacred sites, and Tibetan history—much of which stemmed from his research on Tibetan mastiffs—had largely been built upon De Ren Laoye's teachings.
Following Tashi Damba's directions, Zhang Li drove for nearly two hours until they arrived at Dawanucuo. By then, it was fully dark. After parking, the three entered Tashi's home, a typical Tibetan-style courtyard. Upon entering, they saw an elderly Tibetan man sweeping the courtyard by candlelight. Tashi called out warmly, "Laba Uncle!"
The old man looked up with slightly cloudy eyes, visibly excited. "Young master? Tashi Damba? You've finally returned! I've missed you so much. Go see your mother—she misses you, too. I'll inform the master." He placed the broom aside and hurried toward the prayer room.
Tashi's expression shifted to one of resignation. He muttered, "So Father is home. Professor, Captain Zhang, please wait here. I'll go see my mother."
Zhang Li looked at the freshly swept ground and the lit lamps around the courtyard and asked curiously, "Why are they sweeping so late at night?"
Fang Xin explained, "During the day, this courtyard is always filled with people coming to hear the sage's teachings. Even your commander has waited here for blessings."
Zhang Li noticed that Tashi and the old man named Laba walked in different directions. He asked, "Why isn't Damba's mother with his father?"
Fang Xin replied, "That's their family rule. Even close relatives like his wife and son must seek permission before meeting De Ren Laoye. Only with his consent are they allowed to enter."
"What?" Zhang Li exclaimed. "What kind of rule is that?"
Fang Xin explained in terms Zhang Li could understand: "It emphasizes the sage's extraordinary status. That's why De Ren Laoye is regarded as akin to a living Buddha in the south."
Zhang Li commented, "Damba seems a little afraid of his father."
Fang Xin chuckled. "A little? He's very afraid. Growing up under such strict family rules, it's inevitable he made mistakes and faced severe punishments. Even after the wounds healed, the fear lingered."
"But De Ren Laoye doesn't seem stronger than Tashi," Zhang Li remarked, recalling Tashi's imposing physique.
Fang Xin said, "No, De Ren Laoye isn't physically imposing. He's an old man, much like me."
"Then why is Damba still afraid?" Zhang Li was puzzled.
"It's a kind of authority, a wisdom-filled authority that's hard to describe in words. If you get to meet De Ren Laoye, you'll understand."
Just then, Tashi returned, accompanied by a middle-aged Tibetan woman. Like most hardworking Tibetan women, she wore a headscarf and traditional attire. Her face showed faint wrinkles, but her smile radiated warmth as she leaned close to her towering son. In that moment, Zhang Li was struck by a sudden realization—he saw what happiness looked like on her face.
Tashi pointed to Fang Xin from afar and said, "Mother, this is my professor."
The woman exclaimed joyfully, "Ah! Fang Xin, blessings to you!"
Fang Xin replied in Tibetan, "Blessings to you, Aunt Meiduo. It's an honor to meet you."
The three conversed in Tibetan, leaving Zhang Li feeling out of place. Sensing his discomfort, Tashi explained, "My mother doesn't speak Mandarin." Later, when Meiduo invited them in with the phrase, "Please come in," Tashi translated for Zhang Li.
Inside a side hall, they sat cross-legged as Meiduo served them tea. Fang Xin received his tea with both hands, and Zhang Li imitated him.
While the three conversed happily, Zhang Li's eyes wandered, taking in the room. The space retained the traditional structure of a Tibetan home but was adorned with intricate decorations. Golden walls gleamed under lamplight. The hearth was adorned with auspicious symbols and detailed depictions of Buddhist deities. The furniture, painted in intricate patterns and lacquered in gold, exuded a sense of luxury. Yet, the room lacked modern conveniences like a sofa or television.
Fang Xin noticed Zhang Li's wandering eyes and softly reprimanded him, "Don't look around too much—it's impolite."
Shortly after, the old man Laba entered, greeting Meiduo in Tibetan before turning to Tashi. "Young master, the master is calling for you."
Tashi Damba stuck out his tongue at his mother and made a playful face, as if to say, "Here comes another scolding." His mother said a few words, seemingly to comfort him, and he reluctantly left the room.
Before long, a voice, clear despite its age, came from outside the door, speaking in Mandarin: "Professor Fang Xin, that child Tashi has been so rude. He should have informed me earlier instead of keeping you waiting so long."
Fang Xin quickly stood up and replied from inside, "De Ren Ala, it has been a long time. I've missed you greatly."
Zhang Li immediately realized that the speaker must be De Ren Laoye. Turning to look, he saw an elderly man with a slightly stocky build and an aura of vitality standing at the door. De Ren Laoye was clean-shaven, and his facial features bore a striking resemblance to Tashi Damba's, as if carved from the same mold. However, his face was broader, his expression kinder, and his demeanor radiated both warmth and an unshakable authority—a presence that commanded both respect and affection.
De Ren Laoye embraced Fang Xin before sitting at the left of the fire pit. Fang Xin sat beside him, followed by Tashi Damba, with Zhang Li seated farther down and Meiduo on the right. The old steward, Laba, stood to the side.
De Ren Laoye spoke in a calm voice, but it carried a weight that was impossible to ignore. "I know about the man you found. Perhaps it is fate. The Gobba tribe was always destined to face divine retribution—something determined thousands of years ago."
Professor Fang Xin asked earnestly, "Oh? Has De Ren Ala foreseen the Gobba tribe's fate?" His tone carried no trace of sarcasm, as Fang Xin was well aware that De Ren Laoye often had insights beyond the comprehension of ordinary people.
De Ren Laoye replied, "The words that madman was chanting—Tashi remembered parts of them and repeated them to me. They are from a Buddhist ritual for subduing demons—the Mantra of Acala Vidyārāja."
"What!" Fang Xin exclaimed. He had considered that the chants might be some kind of ritual or invocation, but he never expected it to be the Mantra of Acala Vidyārāja. This mantra, along with the Great Compassion Mantra and the Mantra of the Six Realms, is one of the highest rituals in Buddhist scripture. It requires a highly enlightened monk to maintain a calm and focused mind to recite it. Such mantras are symbols of deep faith, spiritual rank, and identity—not something an ordinary madman could possibly recite. How could the madman know it? Fang Xin's doubt was evident in his expression.
Noticing Fang Xin's confusion, De Ren Laoye explained, "According to the hints in our Bodhi Ancestor Heart Sutra, the Gobba tribe fell into darkness and became servants of the great demon Zanmo. They were punished by the benevolent goddess Palden Lhamo and confined to the Demon Fortress. While this may sound like mythology meant to enlighten people, the Gobba tribe's true role was as the guardians of the southernmost temple—the last of the Four Sacred Temples. The rituals they practiced were passed down through generations. They are the only ones who know the entrance to the southern temple. However, their strict doctrines forbade anyone from their village from approaching the sacred site. The Mantra of Acala Vidyārāja is inscribed on the protective beast statue in front of that temple."
Fang Xin asked, "But do the Four Sacred Temples really exist? Based on what I know, their locations seem asymmetrical, and the periods in which they were built are widely separated. It's hard to see how they could be considered part of a single system."
De Ren Laoye smiled, touching his forehead with his left hand and then forming a mudra at his chest—a gesture acknowledging Fang Xin's wisdom. He said, "What people now call the Four Sacred Temples is a blurry concept derived from ancient hymns and historical records. Only the teachings of the Nyingma school retain this terminology. Later schools, such as the Gelug and Sakya, discarded the concept as unverifiable. In truth, the original Four Temples were built by the Great Dharma Kings during the early dissemination of Buddhism. They were not positioned at the farthest points of the cardinal directions but were instead aligned with the points of the Buddhist swastika symbol. These included the Jokhang and Ramoche Temples in the northwest, Pabongka in the southwest, Gyaya Temple in the northeast, and Shusheng Temple in the southeast. The Gobba tribe has been the traditional guardians of these temples."
Hearing this, Fang Xin's doubts only deepened. Gyaya Temple? Isn't it supposed to be Samye Monastery? And what is Shusheng Temple? Where is it? He glanced at Tashi Damba, who was also frowning, clearly trying to recall something. Even Laba, the steward, seemed puzzled by these temple names—it was apparent that De Ren Laoye had never mentioned them before.
Only Zhang Li seemed uninterested, as his limited time in Tibet had left him unfamiliar with its history and cultural relics. His focus remained on Meiduo, Tashi Damba's mother. The kind woman kept gazing at her tall son with a gentle smile of contentment. To Zhang Li, her smile represented pure happiness, mirroring the expression of his own mother back home in the countryside. Her face, weathered from years of hard labor, bore similar early wrinkles. Zhang Li felt a pang of homesickness. It had been two years since he last visited his family. Though he knew his mother missed him deeply, he stayed on this harsh plateau, driven by a sense of duty to his country—and the hope of earning the financial support that would allow him to buy a home in the city for his family.
Meanwhile, Fang Xin voiced his lingering questions. De Ren Laoye adjusted the hem of his Tibetan robe to make it neater before beginning his explanation. "This is a secret. If I hadn't fully committed the Bodhi Ancestor Heart Sutra to memory from a young age and understood its meaning, I wouldn't be able to provide you with an answer."
Fang Xin recognized that the Bodhi Ancestor Heart Sutra was the ancient Nyingma scripture preserved in the Potala Palace—a treasured heirloom of Tashi Damba's family.
Sitting upright with an air of solemnity, De Ren Laoye continued, his tone becoming graver and more authoritative. "This matter relates to the Great Calamity that occurred after the Buddha's passing…"