“This poor monk is here to slack off,” the Buddhist cultivator said in a particularly relaxed tone, instantly calming Nan Yan’s heart. The more she looked at him, the more familiar he seemed, yet she couldn’t place why. His cultivation level seemed unfathomable one moment, then as ordinary as a mortal the next.
Nan Yan hesitated, then switched to more respectful language. “This junior is still in the midst of the trial. I must continue, but if I pass, I’ll pay my respects to you later, Senior.”
“Hmm.” The monk nodded slightly, then added, “The day is still young. Why not rest for a moment?”
He waved his hand to the side and said, “If you please.” The nearby mulberry tree seemed to come alive, lowering its branches to provide shade for both of them.
Nan Yan was surprised. She could tell the monk hadn’t used any spiritual energy. “The plants haven’t awakened. How did you make it obey like that, Senior?”
A verdant mulberry leaf fluttered down onto the monk’s sutra. He picked it up and gently placed it beside the tree.
“Ten years of tending silkworms and mulberries, and plants come to know your heart,” the monk said serenely, his demeanor calming. He looked at Nan Yan and pointed to his ear. “Listen patiently. There’s more than just mulberry trees on this path. There are always other sounds.”
Nan Yan looked confused but, encouraged by his smile, closed her eyes and listened carefully.
At first, she heard only cicadas and the rustle of sea breeze through the treetops. Then, she began to hear the bustle of nature—ants crawling through grass, spiders catching butterflies.
Nan Yan didn’t use her divine sense, relying solely on her hearing. Gradually, she found her auditory range expanding. Beyond the nearby sounds, she could hear distant waterfalls, chanting from the sutra hall, and monks fetching water and sweeping.
Her hearing expanded infinitely until it reached the edge of the vast sea, ending with the song of returning fishermen.
The experience was profound and beautiful. When Nan Yan opened her eyes after a while, the monk had vanished.
She took a confused step forward, then her face lit up with joy.
The demonic voices that had been clamoring in her ears were now as faint as mosquito buzzes, no longer disturbing her mind. Even as illusions reappeared before her eyes, without the auditory disturbance, Nan Yan felt greatly unburdened.
“So this Senior came to help me overcome the obstacle of hearing.”
Everyone is born with five sensory obstacles: sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch. These senses are easily disturbed by external factors, leading to worldly troubles. Only after reaching the Nascent Soul stage and finding one’s own Dao with a firm heart can one reduce the influence of external disturbances.
For Nan Yan, at least, she would now be immune to 70% of the world’s illusions.
Unable to find the monk, Nan Yan bowed deeply to the mulberry tree before turning her eager gaze to the remaining 700 lotus lamps.
“Now that my hearing is liberated, if I can overcome the remaining lamps, does that mean… the other four senses can be freed as well?”
…
“This Chou Mountain was originally in the Mortal State. After the ancient Buddha Lan attained nirvana, his disciple, Master Jiming, was invited by the Dao Venerable Suihan Zi to move Chou Mountain to the Wei State to suppress a ghost gate of bitter springs. Later, it gave rise to the Buddhist Sea, becoming a Buddhist holy land. The thousand lotus lamps on this Path of Good and Evil were personally set up by Master Jiming to commemorate the ancient Buddha Lan, and he swept each stone step. For later trial-takers, the more lamps they light, the greater the benefits to their cultivation… It’s said that those who light all thousand lamps gain Buddhist enlightenment equivalent to 500 years of wall-facing meditation,” Baoqi Tathagata explained with a smile.
“When this old monk studied under Master Jiming, I climbed the heavenly stairs with three kneels and nine kowtows, receiving the master’s residual consciousness for guidance. After entering Chou Mountain Temple, I practiced hard for 200 years, freeing my hearing and body senses from delusion,” Fazuo said. He watched in surprise as Nan Yan crossed the 400th lamp threshold, then exclaimed, “How did she suddenly become so fast after resting?”
Nan Yan was indeed moving quickly. Although the visual and physical illusions caused her eyes and skin to throb with pain, she knew this was a rare opportunity. Taking advantage of her liberated hearing, she practically ran past 500 lotus lamps.
As she passed each lamp, she felt her pill fire grow stronger. The fire that had previously only enveloped her golden core now expanded to the size of a palm, as if absorbing a bit of the Buddhist fire from each lamp.
Nan Yan wondered if her pill fire shared the same origin as the lamp fire. Why else would her pill fire strengthen with each lamp she passed?
Pill fire is extremely difficult to cultivate at the Core Formation stage. For most cultivators, the quantity of pill fire is set at the moment of breakthrough. Only those like Mu Zhanting, with a single fire spirit root and who had tamed the Great Sun Fire Essence, could enhance their pill fire.
The stronger the pill fire, the greater the tempering effect on the golden core during the Core Formation stage.
Excitement flickered in Nan Yan’s eyes as she continued to climb. By the time she passed the 600th lamp, the illusory interference of the Path of Good and Evil had reached the level of a late Core Formation cultivator. Dizzy and disoriented, she had to stop to rest again.
In that brief moment of rest, the monk with the vermilion mark on his brow appeared once more at her side. This time, however, he seemed not to see Nan Yan and hurried past.
“Senior?” Nan Yan called out.
Looking up, she saw that the monk’s previously raven-black hair now had streaks of white, and his form had matured into that of a young adult. Hearing her call, he only glanced back briefly before continuing, quickly disappearing.
As the monk left, Nan Yan suddenly coughed, and a wisp of gray mist escaped from between her fingers, instantly consumed by the lotus lamps. The lingering scent of blood and rotting flesh vanished in an instant.
Smell and taste senses, broken!
Nan Yan seemed to understand. This senior was likely not a living person, but a residual image left on the Path of Good and Evil by some great cultivator. The initial young novice was his childhood, the youth under the mulberry tree his adolescence, and as she progressed, his age increased. If she were to see him again, her remaining senses of touch and sight would also break free from delusion.
She recalled her master mentioning that some cultivators, after reaching the Deity Transformation stage, experience the Five Decays of Celestial Beings. Especially in the later stages, the suffering is unbearable, often causing premature aging. Her master had advised her to always show respect when encountering cultivators who appeared young but had white hair.
Thinking of this, Nan Yan felt an irrepressible curiosity. She had never seen a cultivator experiencing the Five Decays. It was said that the Celestial Xuanzai was currently in the fifth decay, and if he successfully passed through it, his next step would be to ascend beyond the mortal realm.
In essence, she was about to face an enemy at the fifth stage of celestial decay. This adversary, unparalleled in both cultivation and cunning, stood at the pinnacle of the world. Yet, this Buddhist cultivator harbored no ill will towards her. It would be an excellent opportunity to witness the power of a fifth-stage celestial being.
Steeling her resolve, Nanyan gritted her teeth and pressed on.
The Path of Good and Evil was a trial of the heart. As stars crawled across the sky, Nanyan felt as though she were walking on knife blades. Before her eyes, visions of corpse-strewn battlefields alternated with temptations from celestial demons. Upon reaching the 700th lotus lamp, she lunged forward, desperately swallowing a handful of pills before collapsing motionless on the stone steps.
“Zhenyuan,” a distant, authoritative voice called out. “You’ve passed the Path of Good and Evil trial at Choushan Academy, lighting 700 lotus lamps. This qualifies you to cultivate in the Seven Tribulation Tower. Do you wish for me to guide you into the sect?”
Nanyan sprawled on the steps, twitched her fingers, and raised her deathly pale face. With blue-tinged lips, she whispered, “Please, senior, allow me to continue the trial.”
The authoritative voice snorted coldly, “Your spiritual energy is depleted, your mind exhausted, and your body battered. If you proceed, you’ll face a heart-refining demon equivalent to a mid-stage Nascent Soul cultivator. Your life will be at risk.”
Missing this chance meant never facing a fifth-stage cultivator before encountering that Xuanzai. “Please, senior… let me continue the trial!” she pleaded.
Displeased with her recklessness, the voice warned, “Then so be it. You’re on your own!”
With blurred vision, Nanyan struggled to her feet. She crawled, inching upwards, consuming pills every few steps to maintain her strength. By the 800th step, her body had lost all sensation.
At that moment, she caught a whiff of a familiar wine fragrance. Chan Lu Bei!
Nanyan’s eyes flew open, and her surroundings suddenly clear. Beside her sat the Buddhist cultivator with the vermilion mark on his forehead. Seeing her startled awakening, he instinctively tried to hide the wine bottle, then realizing the futility, placed a finger on his lips in a shushing gesture.
“Shh…” His hair had more frost, but his expression was calmer than their last encounter. Noticing Nanyan’s fixation on the wine, he blushed slightly. “Alcohol is forbidden in Choushan Academy. Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Senior, where did you get that wine?” Nanyan asked, her eyes locked on the bottle.
Visibly uncomfortable, as if caught in wrongdoing, he set the wine aside and spoke hesitantly. “I once went to guide the spirit of an old friend’s deceased wife. She had scattered her soul before death, unwilling to see him. It took my friend 99 years to gather the soul fragments. He invited me to reassemble and guide her soul…”
Nanyan listened patiently. “And then?”
“My friend had a daughter who often peeked over the wall while I worked. She kept saying she owed me a favor and asked what I wanted.”
Inexplicably tense, Nanyan pressed, “How did you respond, senior?”
The Buddhist cultivator intertwined his fingers, his ethereal eyes showing a hint of confusion. “As a monk, I should have no desires. But she persisted, visiting daily to share her experiences – her father’s scoldings, fights with her childhood friend, and compliments from others. She said she loved brewing wine and wanted to create a unique blend just for me.”
Chan Lu Bei, it seemed, was Chan Lu Bei – “Sorrow on the Path of Zen.”
Surely, it couldn’t be what she was thinking…
Nanyan’s mind raced, recalling Ao Guanghan’s murderous expression at the mention of her mother, and the earth-shattering sword strike of Weizhou’s Sword Champion seeking Daosheng Tian.
With so many suspects, she never imagined the Buddhist sect would harbor the prime suspect.
Her face stiff and cold sweat forming, Nanyan asked, “Senior, does the person who gave you the wine resemble me?”
The Buddhist cultivator turned to look at her. Seeing her dirt-streaked face with trails of blood tears, her features indiscernible, he gazed intently for a moment. He then caught a falling leaf, transforming it into a handkerchief to gently wipe her face.
Why did his expression seem to hold a trace of unsettling affection?
Bewildered, Nanyan allowed him to clean her face. Once finished, the Buddhist cultivator let out a soft “Ah.”
Trembling, Nanyan asked, “Do you think I look like her?”
After another moment of careful examination, he tilted his head, his face full of benevolent love, and said, “Child, this poor monk thinks you do indeed look quite similar to her.”
Nanyan: …
Case closed!!!