“A beast! An absolute beast — the boy actually isn’t going to spare even a nun!” Li Heishui howled.
“She’s a little nun — barely fifteen or sixteen years old. This is too much!” Tu Fei’s eyes went wide.
“To be a person is to not be too Ye Fan — so young, and yet he even dares go after a nun. You put us all to shame,” Liu Kou said, staring fixedly.
“This kid truly spares nothing — even sacred and secular alike. That’s the princess of the Da Xia imperial dynasty,” Jiang Huairen said, clicking his tongue.
Wu Zhongtian grew somewhat worried and started walking forward, fearing Ye Fan would provoke a disaster. An undying ancient imperial dynasty like that was even more fearsome than a Sacred Ground.
“That is the Da Xia dynasty’s princess — born to the companionship of a sacred Buddha flower, she entered Buddhism and took her vows. Though she has left the secular world, she remains the most beloved daughter of the Da Xia emperor. This fellow must not act recklessly.”
All five of them moved forward, keeping close watch on the scene ahead.
How could Ye Fan not be shaken? He had heard long ago that the Western Desert held a Buddhist tradition, and that even the Central Continent had monks — he had long wished to learn more.
The Buddha — came from across the vast reaches of the starry sky, a figure of two thousand five hundred years ago. One could say he and Ye Fan had come from the same place.
He desperately wanted to know: was this Buddha the same one from the Great Thunder Sound Temple? Was he originally of the Earth?
If so, it would give him another thread of hope.
He was desperate to know all of this. If there was a sage who could traverse the starry void, then the possibility of returning home existed.
Though in this world he could soar through the sky and burrow through the earth, possessing immense power — he would still rather be an ordinary person, sitting quietly at home in warmth and comfort, rather than living as he did now.
Shakyamuni — a figure of over two thousand years ago, who founded Buddhism and brought it to the height of its power, his influence upon later generations immeasurably vast.
In the past, Ye Fan had considered him simply a figure of great wisdom — he had never worshipped him as a divine being. He had believed that the so-called Buddha was a state of spiritual awareness, not a manifestation of divine power, and had not believed any person could display supernatural abilities.
But when the Nine Dragons Pulling the Coffin set sail from Mount Tai, carrying him to a world of profound mystery, every one of his prior understandings was overturned.
He could not help but regard that figure of great wisdom as a divine being — as a cultivator of boundless power. It was a transformation in how he saw the world.
He could not forget the ruins of the Great Thunder Sound Temple on the ancient Firefly Star. He desperately wanted to know where the Buddha had gone.
This world had Buddhism — which meant the Buddha very possibly had come here.
Two thousand five hundred years — by this world’s measure, it was not extremely long. Living beings from that era still existed. But by the measure of the world across the stars, it was an immense span of time, reaching back as far as the pre-Qin era.
It was precisely in that age that the Buddha had attained the Dao. Only the nature of his true cultivation remained unknown.
Had he followed the star gates left by ancient predecessors to reach this world — or had he crossed the starry void under his own power? Ye Fan had no way of knowing.
Ye Fan had a dreamlike, surreal feeling. Across the reaches of the starry sky — a figure of two thousand five hundred years ago — by all rights should long since have returned to dust. And yet he, Ye Fan, might one day in the future actually hold a conversation with him.
“Who goes there? Stop!”
Ahead, the prince and princess of Da Xia were surrounded by armored guards, each clad in iron, their forms shimmering with divine radiance, battle power surging and formidable. They kept close watch and swept the surroundings with their eyes. Seeing Ye Fan rushing forward, they blocked his path immediately.
“I wish to see that little nun,” Ye Fan said, somewhat agitated, which made his words less than tactful.
“Bold! Do you mean to offend the princess?!” The iron-armored guards crossed blades and swords, cutting off his path forward.
“I misspoke — I mean, I wish to see that young monastic, your esteemed princess,” Ye Fan corrected himself, steadying his footing and looking ahead.
The Central Continent’s Da Xia imperial prince — black hair cascading like a waterfall, eyes like stars, his bearing exceptionally distinguished, like the son of a Heavenly Emperor descended to the mortal world, profoundly martial, clad in divine iron armor. His every gesture carried the flowing energy of imperial sovereignty, coalescing into the form of a dragon in motion, blazing with brilliant light on all sides.
He glanced over, his dark eyes deep as the ocean, and asked placidly, “What is your business?”
Ye Fan opened his mouth and said, “This humble Daoist observed that the Prince’s bearing is majestic and commanding — dragon energy swirling about him, the full dignity of imperial authority made manifest. Unable to contain myself, I approached, wishing to gaze upon the face of a true dragon.”
The Da Xia prince permitted a faint smile. “You have quite a way with words. Come forward for a closer look.”
“This little wretch can really flatter — when plainly he’s after the man’s sister!” Li Heishui muttered quietly.
“Among the princes of Da Xia in the Central Continent, competition is fierce. Words like those, he naturally loves to hear,” Liu Kou said under his breath.
“This kid truly is… coveting the nun of a sister, yet speaking of dragon energy and imperial authority. A piece of work,” Tu Fei said, curling his lip.
The iron guards allowed Ye Fan to pass. He came close and said to the Da Xia prince, “Surveying the Prince’s features — a forehead like the sun, a jaw like the moon, purple energy soaring to the sky, eyes holding the might of a dragon — in days to come, the Prince shall surely ascend to the throne and reign as supreme sovereign.”
“You — what is it exactly that brings you here, little Daoist?” The Da Xia prince was not swayed by such words.
At this moment, Ye Fan was carefully studying the Da Xia princess. She was truly only a little nun — no more than fifteen or sixteen years old, her robes white as snow, her dark hair shorn away, a white cap upon her head.
Though young, she was already tall and graceful, budding into elegance, her natural poise tinged with a trace of girlish charm — delicate and endearing.
This little nun was genuinely lovely, carrying a few threads of innocence. She was gazing at him with curious eyes — dark, bright, and full of spirit.
Though she lacked flowing hair, it did nothing to diminish her charm. Clear, intelligent eyes; pure and moving beauty; natural grace — like a poem, like a painting.
“Young monastic — you possess an inner brilliance, a heaven-sent spiritual appearance. Immortal bones and enlightened roots, born in companionship with the Buddha flower, a heart like a luminous pearl — truly a bodhisattva reborn,” Ye Fan said with sincere gravity.
The little nun’s large dark eyes moved and blinked. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, said nothing, and looked impossibly adorable and lovely.
“Heavens — the more I watch this kid, the more he seems like a flatterer. He really can spin words,” even the normally lion-steady Wu Zhongtian couldn’t help saying.
“This little wretch stripped the Yao Guang Sacred Woman of her undergarment — he’s no good bird,” Li Heishui sighed. “Actually, I’d also like to go over there and say a few things — the little nun really shouldn’t fall for this beast’s tricks.”
On the other side, the Da Xia prince’s expression darkened slightly. He could see that this small Daoist was clearly here because of his sister — and any brother would find that difficult to be pleased about.
Ye Fan naturally noticed his expression. He immediately chanted a Daoist blessing, turned to face the prince, and said, “Your Highness — your momentum is already established. Dragon might breathes from within you. What you presently lack is only the nurturing of imperial energy.”
“And do you have a suggestion?” the Da Xia prince asked placidly. He wanted to send this Daoist away and keep him from getting near his sister.
But Ye Fan, having encountered a practitioner of Buddhism, would not leave no matter what. His heart would not settle, and he desperately wanted to know whether Shakyamuni existed in this world. He spoke: “I wish to present the Prince with a celestial text — one that will allow the Prince to one day rule all of Da Xia.”
“You are a Daoist — what do you know of the grand currents of the world, the great way of imperial energy?” The captain of the guards, reading the prince’s displeasure, moved to drive Ye Fan away.
“Why should I not know? In the cosmos there are four great powers, and the imperial is one of them — can you grasp this?” Ye Fan returned the challenge.
“You —” The guard captain grew mildly indignant.
“What are the four great powers?” the Da Xia prince asked.
“The Dao is great. Heaven is great. Earth is great. The imperial is also great,” Ye Fan said placidly, though his eyes were slipping sideways toward the little nun.
The Da Xia prince had just begun to find some depth in those words when he caught Ye Fan’s expression, and immediately felt repulsed. In a low voice he said, “In these four great powers — is there a connection between them?”
“The imperial is human — the human takes Earth as its model. Earth takes Heaven as its model. Heaven takes the Dao as its model. The Dao takes nature as its model. I possess one scroll of the Imperial Way’s celestial text — it takes Earth as its foundation, bearing all things without exception; takes Heaven as its ceiling, covering all things without exception. It can nurture imperial energy and offer much to consider.”
“A beast! An absolute beast — to achieve his ends, he truly makes flowers bloom with every word, leaving nothing untried,” Li Heishui muttered from a short distance away.
“What an absolute talker!” Tu Fei also shook his head.
“Taste it carefully and there is actually something to it,” Wu Zhongtian mused.
“I think you’re here for the princess!” the guard captain said coldly from the side.
“That is a mistaken impression. I am here for the Prince. However…” He paused briefly and then said, “there are also a few words I wish to say to the young monastic.”
“And what do you wish to ask?” the Da Xia prince said flatly.
“I wish to ask the young monastic — is the Tathagata still in the world?” Ye Fan fixed his gaze on the little nun, his expression utterly grave.
The pure and beautiful little nun’s face shifted in a brief flicker of panic. She retreated behind her brother’s back, peeking around the side and blinking her large eyes at Ye Fan.
The moment the two words “Tathagata” left Ye Fan’s mouth, the Da Xia prince’s expression changed. He said in a low voice, “I don’t know what you are referring to.”
Those two words — Tathagata — seemed to carry some strange, inexplicable power. Not only had the Da Xia prince’s expression shifted — even the Yao Guang Sacred Son, some distance away, underwent a sudden change of expression and began walking toward them.
He blazed like the midday sun, golden radiance flowing across his skin, like a divine sovereign descended to the world. Even standing in the vast sea of people, he was unmistakably apart from everyone else.
Ye Fan clearly sensed the change in their expressions. He was inwardly startled — did the two words “Tathagata” carry some kind of power?
Yao Xi also walked over. She did not know the meaning of “Tathagata” — she only sensed that something unusual had occurred. She moved like the first glow of dawn, like moonlight pouring down, each step elegant and unhurried.
At the same moment, Ye Fan felt another gaze fall upon him — coming from a high pavilion of the Yaochi Immortal Stone Workshop. The Sacred Woman stood at the window, veiled in mist, watching from afar.
“Seeing the true form, all dharmas are empty; in a single instant of enlightenment, ten thousand dharmas become one. Once the wind and light can no longer be contained — they meet, bare and undisguised, face to face.” Ye Fan recited a Buddhist verse, then looked at the pure and lovely little nun and asked, “May I ask — is Shakyamuni still present?”
The little nun, white robe outshining snow, clear and ethereal as an immortal — she opened her mouth as though to speak, but closed it again.
The Da Xia prince, at that moment, was like a mountain, like a great peak — he extended his dragon form energy column outward, his divine garments blazing with light, like a Great Emperor descended to the world, supremely martial. He stared coldly at Ye Fan and said, “I know only of Buddhism. I have not heard this name. Do not ask us!”
Was Shakyamuni a forbidden name? The thought arose in Ye Fan’s mind.
“Suddenly awakened, the wondrous source of the heart — the shell of ignorance cracks and all becomes as one. In dreams there are clearly six destinations; upon waking, emptiness holds neither sage nor mortal.” Ye Fan tested the little nun with another Buddhist verse, then asked in a deeper voice: “Where is the Buddha?”
“To the west, in the Western Desert — there is Mount Sumeru. If you wish to know, you may go seek it there,” the Da Xia prince said in a cold voice.
Hearing the three words “Mount Sumeru,” Ye Fan’s heart shook. Was it truly Shakyamuni’s place of practice?
“I wish to hear you explain to me about the Tathagata and Shakyamuni,” the Yao Guang Sacred Son said to Ye Fan, his smile brilliant, like a spring breeze, like the morning glow.
Ye Fan’s heart trembled. He had a feeling that there was something deeply wrong with the Buddhism of this world — otherwise, why had the Da Xia prince and the Yao Guang Sacred Son reacted as they had?