Pure Land
Indra's words echoed in the air, like a stone dropped into a still lake. The ripples it stirred were the bloodshot and deep brooding in Asura's eyes. The fear of the surrounding celestial beings practically solidified, piercing Asura's keen senses. The desire to kill still roared in his veins, and the fragments of Shanfatian's spirit still burned within him, clamoring to crush all those who had harmed, imprisoned, or exploited Indra.
His ghost claws clenched tightly, his joints made crackling sounds, the air around him was distorted by his power, and the remaining temple rubble trembled slightly, as if it would completely collapse in the next moment.
However, Indra's fingers gently stroked the edge of his broken horned helmet. The touch, stained with cold blood, strangely suppressed a hint of rage. Asura's crimson pupils focused on Indra's pale yet calm face.
"Why?" Ashura's voice was hoarse, as if it came from the depths of the abyss. "Initially, it was for revenge, for the survival of the ghosts, and to break this disgusting order." He looked around, and wherever his gaze took him, the celestial beings shuddered and retreated. "Then... it was to find you."
His gaze returned to Indra, focused and...almost confused. "You said I hated you. Perhaps I did. But you asked me why I came here..." He paused, as if sorting through the turmoil of emotions he had never expressed. "I'm only here to take you away, Indra. That's all."
"As for them?" Ashura's gaze swept over the trembling celestial nobles once again, his contempt barely concealed. "Their life and death, to me, is no different from dust. But if you feel their blood will stain your hands, or your 'pure land'..." He sneered, with a savage tolerance, "I can spare their lives."
This wasn't mercy, but sheer disregard. In the face of his power, these once-mighty beings were now too insignificant to warrant his killing urge. His world now had room for only one person.
A flicker of light flickered in Indra's golden pupils, like a warm current finally flowing beneath the surface of a frozen lake. He saw Asura's almost clumsy, violent core—within it lay an almost obsessive obsession with him, transcending hatred, transcending race, and even transcending a love of killing itself.
He sighed softly, a sigh filled with endless exhaustion, yet also a sense of relief. "My hero... you are still my hero." He leaned into Ashura's strong arms, drawing on the burning yet reassuring strength. "But I don't want a 'pure land' filled with only death and fear."
He struggled, trying to stand up straight. Ashura frowned, but carefully loosened his grip a little to support him.
Indra addressed the surviving Celestials. His voice, still weak, carried clearly through the silent temple: "Shanfatian is gone, and with him the old order has collapsed. There are no victors in this war. Celestials, ghosts, humans... enough blood has been shed."
His gaze swept across those confused faces. "I will not beg for your forgiveness on Ashura's behalf, just as I will not ask him to forgive you. The chains of hatred must be broken at this moment."
He turned to look at Ashura, his eyes earnest and firm: "Ashura, you conquered this place and earned the right to define order with your strength. Now, I ask you to define a new order."
"An order that no longer divides noble and humble by bloodline and birth." "An order that allows light and darkness to coexist, and the heavens and the abyss to no longer be in eternal opposition." "An order... that allows lotus flowers to bloom in every corner, whether it's the sacred pool of heaven or the scorched earth of the abyss."
Ashura stared at him silently, complex emotions swirling in the depths of his sharp, silver-gray eyes. His pursuit had never been about domination, but rather about breaking oppression and... the belonging of the person before him. The path Indra described wasn't the familiar path of crushing all with force, but strangely... it didn't repel him.
"You know I have no patience for this, Indra." Ashura finally snorted, "Managing this bunch of rubbish is frustrating just thinking about it."
"I know." Emperor Shitian smiled faintly, a smile that was weak but radiant. "So, I'll do it. You'll be responsible for deterring all those who dare to break the rules, whether they're from the Celestial Clan, the Ghost Clan, or even the monsters of the Abyss. And I..."
He took a deep breath, as if channeling all his remaining strength into his next words: "I will rebuild this place. Not in the name of the gods, nor in the name of ghosts and gods. But in the name... of 'Pure Land'."
At this moment, he was no longer the seemingly weak and vulnerable prince, nor the alien cursed by the Thousand Eyes, nor a prisoner in need of rescue. He was Indra, the one who understood hatred and reincarnation, and was determined to end it himself. He chose to stand shoulder to shoulder with the conqueror, not to submit, but to guide that destructive force towards a near-impossible creation.
Ashura stared at him for a long moment, then suddenly let out a short laugh. He reached out his hand, his rough fingertips rubbing the lingering blood and pool water on Indra's cheek.
"Troublesome," he commented, but his tone softened. "It's up to you. Plant your lotus wherever you want, right there. Anyone who dares to step on it..." His scarlet eyes scanned the entire room, the threat in his unfinished words chilling everyone to the bone. "I'll chop off their feet."
This was his promise. Brutal, direct, yet heavy as a mountain.
Indra knew that this was his Asura. He didn't need Asura to become a polite and benevolent king, he just wanted him to be himself, the sharp blade that cut through all the shackles of decay and protected the new sprouts.
He took Ashura's hand and turned to the crowd. His voice, though soft, carried undeniable power: "From this moment on, the war between the Heaven Realm and the Ghost Realm ends. Shanjian City will be renamed 'Heart of the Pure Land'. The laws of this place will be determined by Ashura and I. Those who do not wish to obey may leave now. If you stay, you must abide by the new rules."
No one left. Faced with absolute power and a faint yet alluring hope, the survivors chose silent submission.
Ashura lifted Indra horizontally and, ignoring his slight protest, strode out of the temple. The setting sun's rays pierced the shattered dome, stretching their figures. Behind them lay the devastated old temple, a winding river of gold and red blood, and a trembling golden lotus bud struggling to grow within it.
Atop the ruins, new order and hope quietly sprouted, accompanied by the most unlikely alliance.
Emperor Shitian leaned on Ashura's shoulder, looked at the gradually receding ruins, and whispered, "This road will be difficult." "Humph, what are you afraid of?" Ashura hugged him tightly, "Anyone who dares to block the road will be killed." "This time," Emperor Shitian closed his eyes, his voice almost inaudible, "we will go together."
Light and shadow intertwined behind them, half the blood-red setting sun, reflecting the destruction of the past; half the radiance of the rising moon, gently casting its light on the unknown future. Gods and demons, light and darkness, intertwined in this moment, together they marched towards the thorny road to the Pure Land, a path no one had ever trod.
The first fully bloomed golden lotus quietly blossomed at the place where their footsteps intersected, silently witnessing the beginning of this legendary story where violence and tenderness coexisted.
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