Dawn broke.

The battle was over. The majestic Holy City had become ruins, with broken walls and devastation everywhere. The gilded palace gates, once resplendent, were now blackened by fire.

But everyone had survived.

Outside the city, snow and mud splashed as victory reports arrived one after another. The ten-mile street was packed with survivors, their victorious cheers and songs praising the Buddha’s Son echoing in the brilliant morning light, reaching to the clouds.

As the mournful horns sounded, the crowd surged forward, everyone rushing excitedly to the city gates to welcome the Buddha’s Son’s return.

The great road was so crowded with people pressed shoulder to shoulder that there was barely room to step.

The ground trembled slightly as the rhythmic sound of hoofbeats approached. At the front were hundreds of soldiers in black clothes and silver armor riding armored warhorses, followed by troops from the Five Armies carrying curved bows and wearing long swords, their formation strict and imposing.

At the rear of the military formation were companies of tribal soldiers wearing animal skin coats. They came from different tribes and wore no battle robes, their hair wild and bodies covered in blood, unrestrained and fierce, their ranks disordered like countless demons crawling from hell.

No one mocked their barbaric appearance.

The common people looked at them gratefully, placing their left fists against their chests to express sincere thanks.

The formations entered the city, passing through streets piled with tiles and rubble, spreading out along the roads to either side.

Drums thundered like muffled thunder exploding in everyone’s hearts.

In the center of the formation, a single rider advanced slowly, wearing a blood-stained monk’s robe and holding a pitch-black sword. His deep jade eyes were as cold as the sky after rain, showing neither joy nor sorrow. His face was handsome, his bearing majestic, like one gazing down from a high Buddhist hall upon all living things – solemn, sacred, cool, and transcendent, allowing no irreverence.

He killed without emotion, like a sword forged of ice and snow, cutting down all evil spirits, his face fierce as a Vajra subduing demons.

When he smiled, it was like a pure snow lotus blooming amidst mountains of swords – a Bodhisattva with lowered brows, compassionate and merciful, yet still unreachable.

This was their Buddha’s Son – sacred and noble, who had won them peace in chaotic times, held back the Northern Rong armies that had ravaged various countries outside the court’s borders, allowing them to live and work in peace, singing songs of contentment.

The morning light poured down as he rode, bathed in brilliant golden light, his monk’s robe flying like a deity.

The drums fell silent, the wind stopped, and everyone held their breath, heads raised to gaze at Tanmoluojia.

A moment later, a tearful cry broke the silence as someone knelt and kowtowed in gratitude. At this sound, other commoners came to their senses and also knelt prostrate. Countless people surged forward, calling Tanmoluojia’s Buddhist name as they wept openly.

Tanmoluojia seemed not to hear, his expression indifferent as he proceeded wordlessly toward the Royal Temple.

The faithful knelt behind him, joining their palms in devout worship.

Behind the military formation, Li Zhongqian watched the frenzied crowds in all directions with furrowed brows, then looked at the soldiers gazing at Tanmoluojia with equally fanatic expressions, his face growing darker as he glanced back at Yaoying.

Yaoying wore a military dress with a felt hat covering her face, riding beside him. Seeing him look back, she smiled.

Li Zhongqian said grimly: “Look at them, these believers treat the Buddha’s Son like a god, even the military officers do. Of all people to love, why a monk?”

Yaoying smiled: “Brother, didn’t you once tell me to bring Sudan Gu back to Gaochang? You even asked him to take good care of me…”

Li Zhongqian glared – these days, whenever he thought about sending Yaoying with her injured eyes to Tanmoluojia’s side, he became furious.

“How was I to know Sudan Gu was Tanmoluojia!”

Yaoying winked at him, her eyelashes fluttering, her dark eyes rippling with joyful laughter like sunlight dancing on water.

Li Zhongqian was stunned for a moment.

He knew Mingyuenu had always carried worries – she had to guard against Li De and Li Xuanzhen, always thinking of his interests. Each time she sent him to battle, fearing he might not return, she would repeat her instructions again and again tirelessly.

She had been sensible since childhood. He didn’t require her to marry into a noble family, only hoping she could live safely and happily, without worry, laughing when she wanted to laugh, no longer fearing harm from Li De and Li Xuanzhen.

Now Mingyuenu was unfettered and free. When Hai Du Aling led a hundred thousand allied troops to besiege the Holy City, she immediately thought to use this opportunity to attack his suzerain state, trapping him in the court while eliminating his remaining forces, completely cutting off the problem at its root while establishing the Western Army’s authority and clearing away obstacles, rather than rashly leading the Western Army to rescue the city.

Mingyuenu had long since grown up. Before, he had protected his young sister; later, it was his sister protecting her brother.

Li Zhongqian couldn’t quite identify the feeling in his heart – pride, approval, and a touch of melancholy.

His anger gradually dissipated.

He snorted: “With your current status, you could choose any husband. If you truly care for him, you can visit him in the court occasionally, but forget anything else. My brother-in-law cannot be a monk!”

Yaoying remained silent.

Yuanjue rode up to lead them to a separate courtyard to rest.

“Where is the Master? He should rest too,” Yaoying said.

Yuanjue replied: “The temple monks have set up an altar before the Royal Temple’s main hall to make offerings to Buddha. This afternoon, the King will preside over a dharma assembly, leading the monks in prayers for fallen soldiers and the liberation of their souls. The entire city’s people will come to pray.”

Yaoying nodded, remembering that it had always been so – after great battles, Tanmoluojia would preside over dharma assemblies, chanting sutras and praying for blessings.

She went with Li Zhongqian to the separate courtyard, gathering troops, counting numbers, collecting intelligence from various sources, sending out letters, directing Dharma in Gaochang to issue edicts, and arranging for troops to retrieve displaced people held in various locations.

An hour later, Yuanjue came to find them.

“Princess, the King requests your presence at the Royal Temple.”

Li Zhongqian frowned, asking: “What for?”

Everyone in the court now knew of Tanmoluojia’s romantic feelings for Yaoying – what if the faithful became frenzied when she went to the temple?

Yuanjue bowed: “Please be at ease, Duke Wei. Imperial guards watch inside and outside the temple. The temple monks and attending commoners would not dare trouble the Princess.”

Yaoying, worried about Tanmoluojia, finished writing a letter and clapped her hands: “Lead the way.”

…

At the Royal Temple.

On the dharma platform in the square, prayer flags flew and flower garlands encircled as incense burners released smoke into the misty air. Hundreds of silver candles burned brightly, illuminating the high platform in brilliant radiance.

Temple bells, golden drums, chimes, and cymbals sounded in sequence as Sanskrit chants rose.

On the platform, Tanmoluojia sat before the Buddha statue in a snow-white kasaya with gold patterns, chanting sutras for the deceased. He seemed surrounded by Buddha’s light, his bearing pure and elegant, his voice cool and melodious.

Monks in dharma robes stood below the platform, chanting along.

Below the platform surged a sea of people, a dense mass of black as the entire city’s population had come. They joined their palms in worship, silently reciting the names of deceased loved ones as hot tears rolled down their faces.

Military commanders, officials who had stayed to guard the Holy City, tribal chiefs, lords who had come with relief forces from various regions, and envoys from other countries all knelt below the platform, chanting sutras.

The chanting voices merged like thousands of rivers flowing into the sea, gathering into vast waves.

As the solemn ceremony ended, people lowered their heads to wipe away tears.

Tanmoluojia stood, his jade eyes sweeping the crowd with cool detachment. Under the gaze of the faithful and monks, he set down his monk’s staff and walked down from the high platform step by step, heading toward the Buddha hall.

The common people looked around in confusion, glancing at each other before following him, calling out his Buddhist name.

Imperial guards blocked them outside the main hall.

Tanmoluojia remained silent.

Inside the great hall, several candles also burned, their smoke drifting. Dharma Master Vinayana Tiduo stood before the Buddha hall, holding a bronze staff, his aged face showing traces of compassion.

Tanmoluojia entered the hall, the golden light on his kasaya rippling like disturbed water. He raised his head to gaze at the brilliantly golden Buddha in the hall, joining his palms.

“I led armies to kill enemies, creating countless acts of killing. I should be punished.”

Master Tiduo heaved a long sigh and slowly said: “King, the common people, and monks all know your identity as Regent now. You saved countless people from disaster and remain the Buddha’s Son in their hearts. You should not be punished.”

Tanmoluojia’s face showed no expression as he gazed at the Buddha statue and said quietly: “For each day one remains a member of the Sangha, one must observe the precepts.”

He paused for a moment. “This will be my last time accepting punishment.”

Master Tiduo was stunned, his wrinkled face trembling as he nearly lost his balance.

“King…” he recovered, his expression pained. “General Saisang’er was killed by temple warrior monks… The temple masters didn’t want to repeat past mistakes, so when they learned you were the Regent, they panicked and believed Princess Chima and others who claimed you had lost your mind and were killing indiscriminately… The common people were kept in the dark, not understanding court politics or internal royal family disputes, naturally unable to comprehend your difficult position…”

Master Tiduo heaved a long sigh and bowed to Tanmoluojia.

“Would you abandon the path you’ve cultivated for years just because people don’t understand? You are brilliantly talented, the most gifted and enlightened person I’ve ever seen, Bodhiruci’s most accomplished disciple. If you could focus on studying Buddhist principles, you would surely become a great vessel of Buddhism in the future. To abandon it midway would be such a waste!”

Tanmoluojia’s expression remained calm, but his gaze was firm: “All dharmas arise from the mind. One thought of mind encompasses all practices. Understand the mind to see one’s nature; see one’s nature to become Buddha. The path I chose was different from the temple monks’ from the beginning. Since our paths differ, we need not walk together.”

“In my youth, seeing court officials scheming against each other, concerned only with immediate gain while common people struggled and suffered from war, I told my master I wished to dedicate my life to pacifying chaos and keeping the court far from the flames of war.”

“If I don’t enter hell, who will? Using war to end the war, though it is war, it may be done.”

“People’s doubts and disgust, monks’ contempt and mockery – to me, these pass like clouds before my eyes.”

He remembered his conviction – to extinguish the fires of war and bring lasting peace to the court when weapons would be melted down and armies disbanded.

Master Tiduo trembled: “Then why would the King abandon his path?”

Tanmoluojia sat cross-legged with joined palms: “What is the path?”

Master Tiduo was stunned.

Tanmoluojia gazed at the Buddha statue and slowly said: “A thousand rivers have water, and a thousand rivers have the moon. The moon is like Buddha nature, the thousand rivers are like all living beings. Buddha nature resides in human hearts, the moon reflects on river waters, illuminating all things. Each river can reflect the bright moon – I am like those thousand rivers, also having my Buddha-nature, my bright moon, my path.”

“For over twenty years, I bore the court’s burden while cultivating the Way, not daring the slightest negligence… I have not failed the court, not failed my beliefs, but I have failed one person.”

“She knows me, understands me, has weathered storms with me, striving forward together. When facing her, desires arise unceasingly, greed, anger, and delusion arise, and my mind cannot find peace, even when chanting sutras, I cannot suppress them. I once thought this life would forever fall into hell, only after death could I fulfill my private wishes. The moment she returned, I knew this attachment had penetrated deep into my being, carved into my bones and heart.”

“Life is like morning dew. Outside the Sangha, I can still cultivate my path.”

“If I must cut off desire and never see her again, my life would be like an empty shell, utterly without joy.”

He had already sunk into love and desire, constantly yearning for her – there was no need to deceive himself or others anymore.

Master Tiduo heard Tanmoluojia’s determination and will.

He took all under heaven as his responsibility, shouldering the entire court alone. Holding prayer beads in one hand and a steel sword in the other had never made him waver or doubt. He always remembered his convictions and responsibilities, so when he developed feelings of love and desire, his will remained equally firm.

“King…” Master Tiduo sighed, “Princess Wenzhao’s feelings for you and her grace toward the court have spread throughout the realm. You are the honored Buddha’s Son – if you unite with her, people will no longer obstruct or curse you.”

He was still the court’s Buddha’s Son – the faithful revered and worshipped him, they could tolerate his continued association with Princess Wenzhao.

Tanmoluojia’s lips curved slightly: “On my path of cultivation, having her companionship is enough.”

He could not let her continue associating with him without proper status, letting people curse her behind her back.

If he wanted her, he would give her everything, letting her live without worry or care, laughing freely.

Master Tiduo shook his head, deeply pained but helpless. In debating the Way with the Buddha’s Son, who could win against him?

What a pity – Bodhiruci’s most brilliant disciple truly had unfinished worldly karma.

He raised his dharma staff.

Tanmoluojia closed his eyes.

“Buddha’s Son!”

“King!”

Crying erupted outside the hall doors as common people flooded in, prostrating themselves and crawling forward: “King, you shouldn’t be punished!”

Master Tiduo closed his eyes briefly as the staff fell.

The first strike fell heavily as he joined his palms and silently recited sutras, remembering that day when she knelt in the hall, saying she had cut off all thoughts and would never appear before him again.

The monks questioned her, but not wanting to cause him trouble, she answered carefully.

Little did they know that she truly had no other thoughts then, while he, sitting high in the Buddha hall, was the one whose evil thoughts arose, his ruler’s desire to control secretly growing, wanting to keep her confined in the Royal Temple, accompanying him daily.

The second strike, third strike… one after another fell as Tanmoluojia’s forehead broke out in fine sweat, but he remained motionless and silent.

Over twenty years flashed by with each strike. In his mind appeared her face – when she smiled slightly, even the gloomy daylight brightened somewhat.

Through countless mountains and waters, through towering peaks, she came from afar, stirring waves in his still-water heart, arousing greed.

Perhaps this was Buddha’s test for him, and he had failed Buddha’s trial.

But he savored it gladly.

The common people watched him, dumbfounded.

…

Outside the Buddha hall, Yaoying hurried over and froze at the sight within, then rushed down the steps toward the great hall.

“Princess!”

Yuanjue and others hurriedly blocked her, supporting and restraining her before the steps, quietly persuading in a jumble of voices: “Princess, the King ordered this – this is the punishment he must accept… No one can take it in his place. After this punishment, there will be no more in the future. You absolutely cannot go in, the King will blame us.”

Yaoying stopped, standing before the main hall doors, watching the dharma staff fall again and again on his back in the distant hall. Her heart trembled as her fingers tightly gripped her sleeves.

Li Zhongqian had also followed, standing beside her with raised eyebrows but saying nothing.

In the hall, Tanmoluojia silently accepted his punishment as spots of blood seeped through his kasaya.

Master Tiduo panted heavily as he lowered the staff, sighing as he bowed with joined palms.

Tanmoluojia raised his eyes and slowly stood, returning the bow before turning. His gaze passed over the tearful faithful filling the hall, over the spacious courtyard, over the flying prayer flags, falling directly on Yaoying outside the hall.

He stood within the hall.

She stood outside the doors.

Separated by a doorway, separated by the unbridgeable gap between monastic and secular life, separated by a distant space, their eyes met.

Everything around them faded away as memories of their time together rose in their hearts. His eyes held only her, as hers saw only him.

Time after time he had called her Princess.

She had called him Master.

Tears glistened in Yaoying’s eyes.

Tanmoluojia stood before the Buddha statue, face pale and drenched in sweat, the corners of his lips lifting slightly as he gave her a faint smile.

With that smile, it was as if a gentle breeze passed by the Three Lives Pool, and that pure, cool water lotus slowly opened its petals, blooming in the wind.

In that instant, brilliant light shone forth.

Yaoying’s heart ached.

Tanmoluojia gazed at her as he walked out of the great hall.

The faithful wailed loudly, crawling forward to clutch at his robe sleeves and hem, trying to keep him.

“Buddha’s Son! You are still our Buddha’s Son!”

“Legend says Matangi’s daughter and Ananda were husband and wife life after life. You and Princess Wenzhao must also be predestined from past lives. If Princess Wenzhao stays at the Royal Temple, it won’t harm your reputation – you will always be our revered Buddha’s Son!”

“Buddha’s Son, you cannot leave the Royal Temple! You are Ananda’s reincarnation, an embodiment of divine Buddha!”

The faithful collapsed in tears, kneeling and kowtowing, pleading, wailing, repenting.

Tanmoluojia seemed not to hear as he walked through the courtyard, past the prostrate faithful, past the shocked court officials, commanders, and chiefs. He climbed the steps one by one, through the long corridor, stopping before Yaoying. He raised his hand and pulled off his kasaya.

The kasaya flew through the long corridor, dancing in the wind, rising higher and higher before falling.

Outside the Royal Temple, crowds packed together, countless heads gathered.

News of the events in the great hall had already spread outside. An unbelievable message traveled quickly as people stared in shock, gathering below the long steps, heads raised to watch the kasaya slowly drift down.

Thousands upon thousands of eyes fixed on that kasaya.

As it touched the ground, a disturbance ran through the crowd. A cry of pain and loss rang out, followed by another. People trembled slightly as tears flowed down their faces. Sobbing sounds came from all directions, surging like ocean waves.

Their King had returned to secular life.

The long wind gusted fiercely.

Tanmoluojia gazed at Yaoying, his shoulder’s inner robes already soaked with blood and sweat, deep jade eyes roiling with emotion.

“Mingyuenu, from today on, I am no longer a member of the Sangha.”

“I want to truly live.”

With a heart like still water, life and death were but the blink of an eye, not worth forcing. Now with attachment, wanting to spend days and nights with her, he wanted to live, to accompany her.

Yaoying’s eyes brimmed with tears.

She knew he had studied Buddhism since childhood. She never asked him to return to secular life – whether he was the court’s ruler, a monk, or Sudan Gu whose identity could never be revealed, she didn’t care. In her eyes, he was the best Tanmoluojia.

But he had returned to secular life.

Her eyes curved slightly in a tearful smile: “You madman.”

Tanmoluojia laughed softly, his smile gentle but his tone brooking no argument, sharp and decisive: “You have no chance to regret now.”

Now that she had returned, she could never escape again.

He stumbled slightly, his brows furrowing.

Yaoying saw the bloodstains seeping through his shoulder robes, her heart clenching in pain as she supported his arm: “You’re a madman, but I won’t reject you.”

She would walk the road ahead together with him.

Tanmoluojia chuckled softly, raising his head as they slowly descended the long steps together.

The common people stared at them dumbly.

They walked naturally, leaning close together, step by step through the long street.

A carriage inlaid with precious jewels waited by the road as Bisuo and the Imperial Guard officers bowed respectfully to the pair.

Footsteps scattered along the street as armored commanders, tribal chiefs, officials, and lords streamed out of the Royal Temple, kneeling and kowtowing: “Respectfully sending the King back to the palace.”

Tanmoluojia was their King – only he could awe all countries and make all tribes submit. Whether secular or monastic, common people everywhere still revered him as divine. In the current court, no one could shake his imperial position.

The common people still stared dumbly at the pair, clearing a path as they watched them board the carriage.

Outside the Royal Temple, Yuanjue carefully coughed twice and smiled at Li Zhongqian, who had been skillfully blocked outside the doors by the Imperial Guards.

“Duke Wei, see how well matched the King and Princess are – truly a pair made in heaven!”

Li Zhongqian’s lips curved in a cold smile.

He hadn’t rushed forward to stop Yaoying, but not because of these people’s little tricks.