“Zhen Yuan, come back to the Mao State with your master.”
When Nan Yan saw Baoqi Rulai, she was stunned for a moment.
She remembered her master, Chi Ku Dashi, as a thin, unkempt monk who could blend seamlessly into a group of beggars on the roadside with his broken bowl.
But the figure before her wore a bright yellow kasaya, adorned with gold rings on his hands and feet, and glass beads around his neck. His belly was round and soft, his cheeks full and plump, looking just like the Maitreya Buddha in temples. Only his smiling expression resembled Chi Ku Heshang.
Nan Yan: “Master, have you struck it rich?”
“Zhen Fang, have a word with your junior sister,” Baoqi Rulai said, putting down the white-furred fox that was gnawing on his arm. He then turned to Ji Yang, “Young friend Ji, may I have a word?”
Ji Yang nodded slightly and said to Nan Yan, “I’ll be right back.”
As Nan Yan watched them walk away, she crouched down and tried to pinch Yin Ya’s paws. After being swatted away, she asked with a worried expression, “What’s going on with Master?”
Yin Ya replied irritably, “Baoqi Rulai, the head of the Brahma Sea Institute in Chou Mountain Buddhist Sea, has a special divine ability. His main body presides in Mao State, while his avatars roam the world, experiencing all kinds of suffering… The Chi Ku Heshang in the Mortal State is one of his avatars.” So Chi Ku Heshang’s true form was an avatar cultivator, no wonder her seniority was so high.
“You should have gone to Chou Mountain Buddhist Sea for a period of quiet cultivation when you came to the Upper State. Now, with so many people trying to catch you, it’s better to return to Mao State—” Yin Ya looked up and saw her gaze fixed on where Ji Yang had walked away. He said displeasedly, “What’s the use of worrying about him? You’d better worry about yourself, lest someone sees through your disguise.”
“Second Brother.”
“What is it?”
“Do you think anyone could survive from the Yin Curse’s lair in the Filthy Valley?”
Yin Ya fell silent. He remembered that year when Ji Yang jumped off the cliff with Nan Yan in his arms, and later used all his strength to send Nan Yan back up. It was said that after that, the entire Filthy Valley experienced a catastrophe, and no one survived.
“At that time, at the bottom of the Filthy Valley cliff, I asked him to possess my body to survive. He lied, saying he would, but then sent me away in an instant…” Nan Yan’s voice was soft, her eyes dimming. “I truly owe him my life.”
Yin Ya rolled his eyes and said, “It’s not that complicated. When he comes back, we’ll all pounce on him and tie him up, saying, ‘Third sibling, who are we fighting? Speak up.’ If we’re fighting the evil path, you go stand by his side in battle. If we’re fighting the righteous path, I’ll go be corrupt with him. Simple as that.”
Nan Yan: “Second Brother, if Master hears you say this, he’ll throw you into the Demon-Subduing Pagoda for three days.”
Yin Ya: “But only you heard it, right?”
Nan Yan put her palms together, her face expressionless, and said, “If I heard it, it would be thirty days of suppression for you.”
Yin Ya: “…”
…
On the other side of the willow embankment, Baoqi Rulai looked at the now tall and handsome young man, chanted “Amitabha,” and smiled, “Does the benefactor know when the Bodhi tree beside Shakyamuni passed away?”
Ji Yang stopped in his tracks and turned back, saying, “In a glance, Bodhi is born; in a blink, Bodhi dies. Bodhi does not exist in this world but in the heart of Buddha.”
Baoqi Rulai smiled: “It’s been 27 years since we parted at the Zen Dharma Assembly. Has Young Lord Shao Cang been well?”
Ji Yang bowed slightly and said, “I can never forget the kindness of the Great Master who rescued me from the lower reaches of the Soul River Waterfall and sent me to the Mortal State for refuge.”
Baoqi Rulai said, “Although this old monk advised the benefactor to live peacefully in the Mortal State and not get involved in the affairs of Dao Sheng Tian, I didn’t expect the benefactor to return.”
“Mistress Nan Fang probably didn’t want her daughter to return to the Upper State to investigate her death, but everything has its predestined fate. The great tide of the world cannot be stopped by human effort. After my misfortune back then, I told the Great Master about those inside stories. The Great Master then divided his spirit to create avatars that traveled the Four Seas for years to investigate. Even if you didn’t witness it personally, you should have confirmed most of it.”
Baoqi Rulai sighed deeply, his eyes showing a complex expression: “Dao Sheng Tian cannot be overturned.”
“…In my birthplace, I once thought that Dao Sheng Tian couldn’t be overturned.” The setting sun’s light fell into his eyes, quickly dissolving into a river of darkness. He gazed at the heavy clouds on the horizon and said, “Great Master, do you think… there are immortals beyond the sky?”
Are there immortals beyond the sky?
Every cultivator has wondered if there truly exists a realm of immortality, where one neither ages nor dies.
From the moment they first grasp spiritual power, people believe they must be special, addictively pursuing the ultimate power, believing that on the other shore of this sea of natural selection, there must be a truly omnipotent realm.
“This old monk doesn’t know. Buddhists only wish to live this life well, that’s all.”
“It was precisely because Upper Master Ji Ming’s Buddha Bone Zen Heart was not moved by the temptation of what lies beyond the sky that he escaped the calamity set by the Dao Lord.” Speaking of this, Ji Yang seemed to notice something off in Baoqi Rulai’s expression and asked, “Why does the Great Master seem uneasy?”
Baoqi Rulai sighed deeply and said, “Nan Yan… she also has the Buddha Bone Zen Heart.”
If one could cut away the person they admire and their beloved disciple, what of Nan Yan?
The lingering pain in his back suddenly sharpened. Among the struggling souls in a tributary of the river of darkness in his eyes, Nan Yan’s face seemed to appear. What followed was a surge of hatred and anger that was hard to dispel.
But then, the connection brought by the fate lock transformed into invisible threads, once again pulling the deeply poisoned soul back to the other shore.
“Thank you, Great Master, for telling me the truth.”
— So that I may now set my mind on killing.
…
To the west of Mao State, in an area perpetually shrouded in clouds and mist, there is a mountain and a sea.
In the area between the mountain and the sea, there are villages of ordinary people. In each village, there are one or two temples.
In these temples, some monks meditate and clean every day. When ordinary people come to offer a coin or two as oil money, they can listen to a morning sutra meeting. Sometimes, when villagers have unsolvable problems, they would seek help from the monks in the temple. If lucky, they might encounter one or two traveling Buddhist cultivators.
“My little son was taken away by a wild boar spirit half a day ago. I don’t know when he’ll be back,” a woman in a cloth skirt was crying in the temple, her swollen red eyes looking at the Buddhist monks who were trying to comfort her. “If I had known this would happen, I wouldn’t have chased away the boar spirit’s cub when it came to wreak havoc in our spirit rice fields. Now we’ve incurred the revenge of the spirit beast, and I don’t know what to do…”
Most of the Buddhist cultivators in the temple were around the Qi Refining stage. Hearing this, one said, “We’ve sent more than ten monks to search the mountain, but those who returned said they couldn’t find any trace of the wild boar spirit in the mountains. When was your child taken?”
“It was before dawn this morning,” the woman recalled. “At the temple gate, I met a beautiful female Bodhisattva. After hearing about it, she asked for one of my handkerchiefs and then whooshed off into the mountains.”
The monks fell silent, communicating with each other telepathically.
“A guest was staying here before dawn today?”
“I heard that disciples from the Brahma Sea Institute are training nearby. Could it be one of them?”
The monks became cautious. The Mao State is a special place. There are temples of all sizes here, all available for Buddhist cultivators to practice, except for one place with its restrictions.
That place is Chou Mountain Buddhist Sea.
On Chou Mountain, there are Bodhisattvas with lowered brows worrying for all worlds, and in the Brahma Sea, wrathful Vajras are subduing the sea of bitterness.
Just as the monks were about to ask the woman for more details, they heard a series of sonic booms from the sky. True to the description of “whoosh,” a female nun with unshaven hair, carrying a small boy, gracefully descended.
“Little Treasure!” The woman suddenly stood up and rushed to embrace the boy. However, as soon as the nun set him down, he unexpectedly stumbled behind a locust tree and vomited.
The woman was left speechless.
“He’s fine,” the nun explained. “The wild boar demon was fiercely protective of its young, so I chose not to kill it. Instead, I swiftly transported it to a remote mountain 500 miles away. The round trip might have caused the child some discomfort.” She walked over to the boy and gently touched his forehead, transferring a wisp of spiritual energy. Instantly, the child sprang back to life.
“Mama!” he cried.
The young woman clutched her son tightly, profusely thanking the nun. Before leaving, she insisted on sending over some freshly made vegetarian cakes made from spiritual rice.
The village temple was small, and its monks were only at the Qi Condensation stage. Seeing the nun’s ability to fly and her overwhelming spiritual presence, they bowed respectfully.
“Greetings, esteemed senior. What brings you to our humble temple?” they asked.
“No need for such formalities, fellow practitioners,” she replied. “I’m merely seeking temporary lodging. If any villagers need assistance in the coming days, please direct them to me. You all work hard in your daily cultivation, so take this time to rest.”
The nun was none other than Nan Yan. Back in Chen State, Qi Yang had said he’d return quickly, but he never did. When she finally asked Baoqi Rulai about Qi Yang’s whereabouts, he reluctantly explained that Qi Yang had gone to Si State on an important mission. As a result, Nan Yan was to be confined in Mao State for a year. Only after this matter was resolved would she be allowed to leave, and the Brahma Sea Sect would no longer interfere with her decision to return to secular life.
Initially, Nan Yan objected. Whether to return to secular life or not was her personal choice. Not only was her master failing to support her pursuit of enlightenment, but he was also colluding with demon cultivators. It was truly outrageous.
Eventually, worn down by Nan Yan’s persistence, Baoqi Rulai brought her back to Mao State. He stated that she needed to complete the Brahma Sea Sect’s Imperial Heir trial before he would allow her to leave.
“Master, I heard from my elder brother that his Imperial Heir trial involved slaying a sixth-grade Flame Separation Dragon and defeating ten opponents single-handedly in the Dragon Capital’s arena. What should I do? Hunt down a seventh-grade demon bear in the mountains or destroy ten demon cultivator lairs?” Nan Yan inquired.
“True Circle, constant fighting and killing don’t nurture the Buddha-nature,” Baoqi Rulai replied. “The Brahma Sea Sect’s trial isn’t difficult. Simply perform 100 good deeds in Mao State without resorting to violence. Enjoy the snow and stars along the way, and contemplate life. When your heart finds peace, return to me.”
Performing 100 good deeds was easy, but avoiding killing in the world of immortal cultivation was a significant challenge for the renowned Bloody-Handed Guanyin.
From that day forward, Nan Yan sat on a cushion in the temple hall, tapping a wooden fish and listening intently to the complaints of passing worshippers seeking solace in the divine.
“Buddha, please don’t let my husband beat me when my family visits in the coming days.”
“May my son gamble less and study more, so he can be chosen by an immortal sect.”
“If this child is a boy, it will bring honor to the second branch of our family. I’ll surely return to offer thanks before the Buddha.”
Nan Yan listened to these mundane concerns for days. Apart from teaching the wife-beating husband a lesson by using magic to make him dream that his wife was a reincarnation of the Queen Mother of the West—frightening him into making solemn vows—most issues were beyond her ability or jurisdiction to address.
This, she realized, was the mortal world.
The temple wasn’t solely visited by devout men and women. Occasionally, parents brought their children for the monks to awaken their spiritual potential. One day, as Nan Yan was awakening the spiritual awareness of a one-month-old infant, her spiritual sense suddenly detected three Foundation Establishment cultivators approaching.
Upon arrival, they broadcast a message:
“The Xianlan Sect is selecting talented youths! Children aged three to fifteen are welcome to participate in the test!”
The entire village erupted in excitement. Many parents, their faces beaming with hope, rushed out carrying their newly awakened children. Even the couple beside Nan Yan hesitated briefly before apologizing and hurrying away.
A temple monk explained, “Please don’t be offended, Senior Sister. Although our State has a strong Buddhist following, most parents are reluctant to have their children join the monastic life. Other non-secular sects in the State offer an alternative path.”
Nan Yan, who had concealed her appearance and cultivation level, was reminded of her experiences in Fan State years ago. Curious, she left the temple to observe.
The usually quiet mountain village was now bustling with activity. At the village entrance, Nan Yan saw three Foundation Establishment cultivators floating in mid-air, arrogantly holding a spirit-detecting jade.
This jade was smaller than the one Nan Yan remembered, but its quality far surpassed the one used by the Yangyue Sect years ago. The cultivator holding the jade beckoned three children forward. With a wave of his sleeve, three beams of light from the jade enveloped the children, revealing their spiritual root qualities moments later.
“Useless spiritual root!”
“Useless spiritual root!”
“Hmm? Water and fire spiritual roots. A rare dual-element affinity, but unfortunately conflicting… Move along.”
The child with dual spiritual roots was Little Treasure, whom Nan Yan had rescued from the wild boar demon days earlier. Upon hearing the result, his mother immediately knelt and pleaded, “Immortal sir, aren’t fewer spiritual roots better? My Little Treasure has two spiritual roots. How can they be useless?”
The Foundation Establishment cultivator frowned slightly and explained, “If either his water or fire root were slightly stronger, we would take him and nurture his talent. However, although he has dual spiritual roots, they are remarkably equal in size and strength—a rare occurrence. The spiritual energy he cultivates would be in constant conflict between water and fire. Raising such a disciple would be even more challenging than those with all five spiritual roots. It’s best to give up and return home to farm or study.”
Nan Yan, who had been observing from the crowd’s edge, fell into deep thought. Her heart skipped a beat as she pondered: If two equally sized spiritual roots would conflict, how had she, with all five spiritual roots in perfect balance, managed to cultivate faster than others?