As if infected by plague, a great wave of “thud, thud” sounds of people kneeling suddenly rang out around him.

A dark mass of people knelt before the monk, their eyes filled with deep pleading.

“Please, Master…”

“Let him go…”

“For our sake…”

“He has sincerely repented…”

Countless voices drifted into his ears from near and far, like Buddha’s secret guidance from within the clouds.

Zifeng also knelt before him, weeping: “I know my sins are grievous… I am willing to spend my remaining life atoning for my karmic debts…”

Did he truly know his sins were grievous? And was he truly willing to sincerely repent?

If it were true, why did he begin providing disaster relief exactly half a month before his own return home, not sooner or later? If it were true, why did he confess his crimes with thorns on his back before the entire city’s people, appearing remorseful but using coercion?

Jingshan knew that these people kneeling before him throughout the city weren’t truly pleading for Zifeng. The drought’s end was unknown, and each additional day of suffering would mean countless people starving to death. On his way here, he had seen countless corpses lying across the roads. These people were simply afraid that if Zifeng died, no one would distribute porridge, and they would perish from extreme hunger.

They simply wanted to survive.

He was a good person, yet he wanted to kill one man. Zifeng was an evil person, yet he could save ten thousand people.

Between bodhisattva and demon lay but a single line. So who exactly was the bodhisattva, and who was the demon?

Golden sunlight pierced through the clouds, gently bathing the earth. Countless pleading eyes looked at him—countless lives.

Over these years, he had traveled to many places, practicing and cultivating. That tolerance and compassion weren’t false.

Moreover, before becoming Jingshan, he had already been a great, good person who helped the weak and supported the fallen, gentle, and benevolent.

Among all sins, killing karma is the heaviest; among all merits, releasing life is foremost. A good person should sacrifice himself to save ten thousand people, not to mention past grudges. Abandoning personal selfish desires to save countless lives.

His hand holding the staff trembled slightly. He stepped back, as if trying to see everything before him. It seemed that only this way could he sweep away all confusion.

Putting down the butcher’s knife—perhaps this wasn’t only said to Zifeng, but also him.

When one witnesses others practicing dao and assists their joy in goodness, great fortune is gained. Put down the butcher’s knife, save ten thousand people, and immediately become Buddha.

The golden winter honeysuckle gradually grew. It sprouted from the filthy mud, climbed upward, its petals stretching. It grew larger and larger, as big as buildings, continuing to grow, almost filling the entire sky. Like a giant spinning wheel of fire, slowly rotating, swallowing his entire being.

The surroundings suddenly quieted.

From within the clouds, Buddha’s whispers seemed to sound. Those familiar scriptures came from far to near, densely flying into his ears.

“…The lush yellow flowers are nothing but wisdom, the verdant green bamboo is all dharmakaya… Sentient beings cycle through six realms like a wheel without beginning or end…”

“…All conditioned things are impermanent, all existence is suffering. All dharmas are without self, nirvana is bliss…”

“…The six senses condition contact, contact conditions feeling, feeling conditions craving, craving conditions clinging, clinging conditions becoming, becoming conditions birth, birth conditions old age, death, sorrow, lamentation, pain, and despair. When this ceases, that ceases—when ignorance ceases, formations cease; when formations cease, consciousness ceases; when consciousness ceases, name-and-form ceases; when name-and-form ceases, the six senses cease… when old age and death cease, sorrow, lamentation, pain, and despair cease…”

Countless pasts, countless selves appeared before him. Past lives seemed like a dream—birth, old age, sickness, death, separation from loved ones, meeting with those we hate, not getting what we seek… Sentient beings suffer from worldly pain, unable to escape joy, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hate, and desire. Yet what gathers must scatter, what accumulates must be exhausted, what lives must die, what rises must fall.

All conditioned dharmas are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, shadows, like dew and lightning—thus should they be contemplated.

All is delusion.

His heart became tranquil.

A true practitioner sees no faults in the world; if one sees worldly faults, one is not a true practitioner. He wished to develop the Mahayana mind, universally saving all beings, and was willing to endure infinite suffering for all sentient beings.

He slowly stepped back, his features becoming peaceful. Sanskrit sounds drifted from the clouds, golden light illuminated his robes, as if celestial carriages were rushing to welcome the Buddha’s child’s arrival.

Jingshan closed his eyes.

The Sanskrit sounds grew closer, surrounding him. They seemed to tell him: let go, just let go, all is delusion.

His hand holding the golden staff slowly loosened, sliding down inch by inch, but just as it was about to fall to the ground, someone gripped it tightly.

Someone spoke: “That’s wrong.”

The deafening Sanskrit sounds suddenly paused, and the brilliant Buddha-light seemed to stagnate.

The monk opened his eyes, his tone calm: “I don’t want to let go.”

…

Within the white pagoda, the teeth-grinding “creak creak” sounds suddenly fell silent, as if a rolling wheel had encountered an obstacle, stiffly repeating its forward motion.

In countless mortal worlds, countless monks with different faces stood among the kneeling citizens of entire cities—some with serene and beautiful features, some with eyes bright as youths, some with cold appearances and desolate voices, and others with smiles at their lips and eyes full of mocking violence.

Sanskrit sounds hung like giant golden bells suspended above people’s heads between heaven and earth. Countless magnificent scriptures echoed between heaven and earth, as if someone repeatedly murmured about worldly phenomena, teaching people to see through karmic obstacles and escape from troubles.

Bodhisattvas practice giving, treating enemies and relatives equally, not remembering old grudges, and not hating evil people.

It was time to let go—letting go would immediately bring Buddhahood.

The person holding the staff gently raised his eyes, his gaze showing a decisiveness completely different from before.

“I don’t want to let go.”

The face of the monk in robes became somewhat blurred under the blazing sun’s illumination, as if blurring into another person. He gripped the staff in his hand tightly, looked at the ten thousand people kneeling and pleading before him, looked at the evil person confessing with thorns on his back, and once again spoke indifferently: “Admit it—you’re not truly repentant either.”

The secret smile at the corner of Zifeng’s mouth suddenly stiffened. His movements became momentarily rigid, and he looked at Zanxing with eyes full of surprise.

Yes, Zanxing.

Year after year, life after life, she had become countless different “Zanxings,” accepting all the joy and tears of each Zanxing. Having experienced a hundred kinds of worldly suffering, her heart gradually awakened.

Taking nothing from the body, clinging to nothing in cultivation, abiding in no dharma. The past has perished, the future has not arrived, the present is empty and silent. There is no doer of karma, no receiver of retribution. This world does not move, that world does not change. What dharma in is called the holy life?

She had become Master Jingshan. She understood that just like countless times before, in this life she needed only to experience worldly sufferings of every kind—just let go and see through, immediately reincarnate, and the trial would pass.

This was perhaps the result the Five-Wheel Pagoda trial wanted. After experiencing hundreds and thousands of lives, cultivators gradually achieved enlightenment, cultivating their minds and bodies. Even the most obtuse person would eventually awaken in such cycles.

She knew the Five-Wheel Pagoda’s intention. As long as she put down the staff and let go of hatred, this life would pass.

The correct answer was right before her, yet she deliberately didn’t follow it.

Zanxing said, “Why should I?”

Why should the one who committed evil still get to live well while she had struggled through a difficult life just for revenge, only to be threatened with her life at the crucial moment, forced to let go?

Did being a good person mean one deserved to be wronged?