The Void King

2. The Beads’ Vow & A New Beginning

Zhou Feng was overwhelmed with emotion, almost trembling with anger. His entire life had been ruined by this seemingly ordinary string of Buddhist prayer beads. If not for them, he’d still be by his grandmother’s side. If not for them, he would never have been mysteriously thrown into this strange world.

 

Just as rage threatened to consume him, the prayer beads that had lain quietly in his sea of consciousness suddenly trembled. The pale golden liquid that filled his consciousness surged outward, flowing into every part of his body. Wherever it went, his raging blood and chaotic energy calmed, as gentle and docile as lambs.

 

But what truly stunned Zhou Feng was that wherever that golden light passed, his long-broken, tangled meridians were knitting themselves back together — perfectly. It was miraculous. Bittersweet emotions rose in his chest. These beads had dragged him here and stripped him of everything, yet they were also the very thing saving him now.

 

As he wrestled with his thoughts, the prayer beads began to spin rapidly. Then, eight glowing golden words appeared in his mind:

 

"I will not become a Buddha until hell is empty."

 

"I will not become a Buddha until hell is empty?" Zhou Feng breathed out in shock. Wasn’t this the great vow of Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva? As someone who studied Asian culture and history, how could he not recognise it? Ksitigarbha was one of Buddhism’s four great Bodhisattvas, the sovereign of the underworld — revered above even the Ten Kings of Hell.

 

I vow not to become a Buddha until hell is emptied.

 

A vow of infinite compassion and unshakable resolve. Ksitigarbha had sworn to save all suffering beings before seeking his own enlightenment.

 

"Why… why am I seeing this?" Zhou Feng frowned, his mind racing. What did it mean? He’d bought the beads cheaply at an antique shop, never imagining something like this could happen.

 

He remembered that night clearly. He’d been asleep when the room filled with howling winds and ghostly wails. Terrifying faces surrounded him — fangs bared, eyes burning with ghostly fire. The cold was biting, the screams deafening. Whether they feared the prayer beads in his hand or something else, they’d swarmed toward him. Then darkness took him, and he’d awoken here.

 

A loud, echoing sound snapped him back to the present. The golden words faded, his consciousness slowly cleared, and his soul settled firmly back into his body.

 

He gasped awake, his clothes soaked through with cold sweat. "Was… was that all a dream?"

 

But then his expression froze. He reached inward — and his eyes went wide.

 

Every single meridian in his body was whole and unbroken. All twelve regular meridians. All eight extraordinary meridians. Not just healed — they felt stronger, more resilient than they’d ever been before.

 

"These beads… they couldn’t possibly belong to Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva, could they?" The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

 

[Congratulations to the successor of the Buddhist prayer beads.]

 

A deep, ancient voice echoed in his mind. Zhou Feng scrambled out of bed, spinning around to face an empty room. "Who’s there? Who are you?"

 

After a long pause, the voice spoke again:

 

[I am the remnant will of the Void King — the beads’ protector.]

 

Zhou Feng didn’t press further. He understood — this was a legacy left behind, not a living person. It wouldn’t answer questions.

 

[I lived for over fourteen thousand years and reached the Sky Realm. At the final tribulation, I could not cross into Nirvana. Unwilling to fade into nothing, I poured all my life’s wisdom and power into these prayer beads. Now, you are my sole successor. Your virtue or vice matters not to me. I have but one wish: master my skills, and let the name of Void King resound across the world once more. You must discover the beads’ secrets and my knowledge on your own. To awaken the beads’ true power, you will need endless essence of demonic blood.]

 

Slowly, the voice faded into silence. There was a deep, lingering sorrow in those final words.

 

Zhou Feng checked his body again. His internal energy flowed smoothly, freely — but his cultivation base had dropped from the ninth level of Body Tempering. His energy was thinner now, yet he felt no discouragement. His meridians were whole and stronger than ever. Rebuilding would be only a matter of time.

 

"I feel… incredible," he murmured. He stretched, and his muscles hummed with new vitality. When he punched the air, it cut through with a sharp whoosh.

 

The first level of Body Tempering required two hundred pounds of force — and he already possessed that strength without even cultivating. A surge of excitement coursed through him. He wanted to start immediately, but he knew better than to rush. He needed a quiet place to train in peace. And he knew exactly where to go.

 

With his mind made up, Zhou Feng washed, dressed, and stepped out into the early morning. The sun was just rising — perfect time to begin.

 

"Oh ho ho! Look who it is — our family’s once-great genius, Zhou Feng!"

 

He’d barely stepped into the courtyard when five young men blocked his path. They were fellow fifth-generation clansmen, about his age. In his prime, they’d all been eager to call him "Brother Feng." Now that he’d fallen, they saw only a target to mock.

 

Zhou Feng simply smiled. He wasn’t the same boy who let taunts get under his skin.

 

"Still acting high and mighty?" The one named Zhou Bing stepped forward, stung by his indifference. He’d always feared Zhou Feng before — but everyone knew Zhou Feng was a useless cripple now. And Zhou Bing? He was a proud first-level Body Tempering cultivator.

 

"Please step aside," Zhou Feng said calmly. "I have somewhere to be."

 

"What did you say?" Zhou Bing flushed. The others gasped. How dare the trash speak like that? "You asking for a beating?"

 

"Get out of my way," Zhou Feng said, his voice cool and steady.

 

Zhou Bing snarled and lunged, fingers curled into claws, aiming straight for Zhou Feng’s face.

 

Zhou Feng leaned back, shifted his weight, and slipped aside like a wisp of smoke. Zhou Bing’s attack met only air. Before he could recover, Zhou Feng struck — a single, precise blow to the back of his neck. Zhou Bing pitched forward, sailed through the air, and crumpled five meters away, completely unconscious.

 

Zhou Feng looked at the remaining four, who stood frozen in terror. "Next time you block my path, be prepared for the same result."

 

With a wave of his sleeve, he walked past them and was gone.

 

It took several minutes before the four finally snapped out of their shock. They exchanged terrified glances and one of them blurted out:

 

"His dantian… it’s not damaged at all!"

 

"Hurry — we must report this to Young Master Zhou Kan at once!"