The Twelve Zodiac Guardian Gods​

A strange energy surged into Qi Yue’s body from the young monk’s fingertip. Qi Yue jolted violently, as if struck by lightning—his entire body trembling from the sudden rush. He couldn’t make sense of the sensation, only that it left his mind reeling, every nerve overwhelmed. The moment the monk’s finger touched him, Qi Yue felt a wave of horror rise in his chest.

“Look at yourself,” the young monk said, stepping back.

Qi Yue instinctively lowered his gaze. On his chest, dark lines began to emerge, spiraling outward in a complex pattern, flickering with faint silver light. The design resembled horns—long, twisting, and majestic, their black-and-silver form radiating power. Qi Yue froze in place.

“Wh-What is this?!”

Even the young monk couldn’t hide his surprise. His usually calm expression flickered. “Black Qilin…? It’s the “Black Qilin?” he murmured. “When I first saw you, I was already preparing for the worst. But fate… fate has made a cruel joke. I never imagined the strongest among the Qilin bloodline would awaken in this generation.”

Qi Yue was still staring at his chest. The strange black beast etched into his skin had silver eyes—eyes that seemed to gaze back at him, alive and sentient. An overwhelming sensation surged through his limbs. His fatigue from climbing the temple had vanished, replaced by an invigorating power. Despite his bare chest, he felt no cold at all in the mountain air.

The monk took a deep breath. “Now… can you sit quietly and listen to what I have to say?”

Qi Yue looked up slowly. His gaze was conflicted, his expression mixed with awe and uncertainty. At last, he gave a bitter smile. “When I was a kid, I always dreamed of being someone special. Looks like that dream might be coming true.”

He chuckled darkly. “It still feels like a dream. But fine. I won’t run. Fate is like a thug forcing himself on a beautiful woman—if you can’t escape it, you might as well enjoy the ride. Go ahead. But before you explain everything, I want to know who you really are. You clearly aren’t just some ordinary monk.”

The young monk fell silent for a moment, frowning slightly at Qi Yue’s crude metaphor. “Your speech always circles back to women,” he said, disapprovingly. Still, the invisible spiritual pressure that had bound Qi Yue moments ago quietly dispersed.

Qi Yue grinned. “Well, the world’s made of men and women, isn’t it? Attraction is only natural. Anyway, go ahead—tell me your story. I’ll admit, I don’t know much about Tibetan Buddhism, so maybe I wouldn’t recognize your title even if you told me. But I’m still curious.”

The monk gave a faint smile. “The Holy Buddha Temple doesn’t hold the same prestige as the Potala Palace, but it holds its own sacred weight. Only the most devout lamas come here to train.”

He paused, then continued, voice calm and reverent. “More than ten years ago, the most renowned master of the temple vanished. At the time, I was just a child. But he chose me to succeed him. He entrusted me with his robes and his most precious collection of ancient scriptures.”

“In a way,” he added, “you could consider me the abbot of the Holy Buddha Temple.”

He met Qi Yue’s gaze. “That’s all there is. I’m simply a disciple of the Buddha who began his cultivation from a young age. For us, fame and fortune mean nothing. Reputation is an illusion. So I don’t have a name you would know, or any worldly title to offer you as proof.”

He pressed his palms together and bowed slightly. “But I can offer one truth: a monk does not lie.”

Qi Yue blinked. “So you’re the one running this entire temple?” He looked the monk up and down, genuinely stunned. For once, he was speechless.

There was something different about this monk. He was young, sure—about Qi Yue’s age—but the calm in his eyes felt deep as the ocean, as if he could carry the weight of the world.

And for the first time since arriving in Tibet, Qi Yue truly believed.

The young monk gave a gentle smile. “You may call me Zagru,” he said. “Earlier, I mentioned the Qilin. As you might’ve guessed, that mark on your chest—it’s not just a tattoo. It’s a manifestation of your bloodline. The Qilin blood runs in your veins.”

Qi Yue blinked. “Qilin? You mean the mythical beast?”

Zagru nodded solemnly. “Yes. The Qilin is a divine creature—known as the First Among Beasts, a symbol of heavenly blessing, peace, and prosperity. Most Qilins are golden-maned with silvery bodies. But yours is different. You bear the rarest and most powerful lineage of them all—the Black Qilin.”

Qi Yue looked down instinctively at the mark etched across his chest, its dark lines glowing faintly with silver light. “So you’re saying… I’m a Black Qilin?” he said, half in disbelief. “Wait—don’t Qilins fly? If I really am one, do I get to fly too?”

He chuckled to himself, tracing the spiral horns of the pattern on his skin. “This thing’s got style. Reminds me of those old kung fu movies—the Azure Dragon on the left, the White Tiger on the right, and the big badass bull in the middle. Man, I always wanted something cool like that.”

Zagru stared at him, wide-eyed. “You’re seriously comparing the sacred Black Qilin to a street tattoo?” he muttered. “Forget it. You’re… too naturally chaotic. We’d be here all day. Let me just get to the point before I lose my cultivation from listening to you.”

He steadied himself and continued. “In the East, there has always existed a hidden lineage of true guardians. Few in number, but great in responsibility. Their mission has remained unchanged since ancient times: to protect the sacred lands of the East from demonic corruption and foreign invasion. These guardians are led by twelve warriors—each one representing one of the Twelve Earthly Branches (chinese zodiacs).”

Qi Yue’s brow furrowed. “Wait—Twelve Earthly Branches? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Zagru’s face twitched. “You don’t know the Twelve Branches? And you call yourself a descendant of the Yellow Emperor?”

He sighed. “Fine. You’ve probably at least heard of the Chinese Zodiac, right?”

Qi Yue shrugged. “Sure, I remember that from primary school. It’s like… Rat, Ox, Tiger, something-something. Right?”

Zagru had to resist the urge to stare at him like he was an idiot. “Close enough. The Zodiac you’re thinking of—Rat, Ox, Tiger, Rabbit, Dragon, Snake, Horse, Goat, Monkey, Rooster, Dog, and Pig—those are linked to the Twelve Earthly Branches: Zi (子), Chou (丑), Yin (寅), Mao (卯), Chen (辰), Si (巳), Wu (午), Wei (未), Shen (申), You (酉), Xu (戌), and Hai (亥). Each of these represents both a zodiac animal and a cosmic attribute.”

He shook his head. “But forget all the technical stuff for now. What matters is this: the Twelve Zodiac Guardians are real. Each is a cultivator bound to one of the twelve branches, chosen by fate to defend the East.