“Why not let it go?”

“Hmm?” Zanxing suddenly raised her head.

Amid complete silence, a human voice suddenly rang out, which was quite startling. This voice seemed both distant and near, somewhat familiar, calm, and stiff, like a pool of stagnant water without the slightest ripple.

Zanxing looked at the Buddha statue before her. The golden Buddha was smiling at her, and whether it was an illusion or not, she felt that gaze had somehow changed.

“Are you asking me?” She was somewhat surprised. Could it be that the trials within this Five-Ring Pagoda weren’t over yet? What should she answer?

People often say that to get the correct answer, one must figure out the questioner’s intent. Jingshan was a Buddhist cultivator willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of all living beings. Looking at her now, he probably saw her as an unrepentant, selfish person.

But Zanxing couldn’t be as great as he was. There was an inherent distance between Buddhas and mortals. Since she couldn’t figure out the other party’s intent, she could only earnestly speak what was truly in her heart – sincerity was always more moving than hypocrisy.

Zanxing said, “I want to let it go, but I just can’t. Even if I force myself to spare him and save the common people, the comfort afterward couldn’t offset my pain. I can completely imagine what would happen after I do this – I would lie awake at night repeatedly recalling it, regretting it more and more, living the rest of my life in unwillingness and grief, finally dying in depression.”

“For others, when good people do these things, it’s only natural, it’s accumulating merit, but for me, this is forcing someone to do something beyond their capability.”

“Only Buddha would have no personal feelings. I’m human, so I distinguish clearly between gratitude and grudges, and I’m unwilling to wrong myself.”

“If I can’t let it go, then I can’t let it go. I don’t want to force it.”

After Zanxing finished saying these words, the surroundings fell silent again.

That strange voice didn’t continue, but changes were quietly occurring in the void.

That enormous, towering, and cold golden Buddha statue silently watched her in the darkness. The smile at the corners of its mouth remained gentle, its expression still compassionate, but in those calm and indifferent eyes, a clear tear slowly welled up.

The golden Buddha… was crying.

Zanxing was stunned.

She had only spoken the truth – surely it wouldn’t move this Buddha statue to tears?

That sorrowful smiling face was right before her eyes, tears falling drop by drop, continuously. Like a spring, clear water flowed from within, streaming down the enormous golden body, gathering into a small puddle on the ground in front of Zanxing.

Zanxing hesitated for a moment, then walked forward. The water surface was as calm as a small round mirror. She reached out and touched the warm flowing water.

In an instant, enormous sorrow and confusion came flooding toward her, wrapping around Zanxing densely.

She saw everything in the mirror-like water surface.

She saw the Buddhist cultivator Jingshan, under the pleas of the entire city’s people, put down his golden meditation staff. Yang Zifeng thus luckily escaped with his life. He indeed did as he had said, taking out the grain from his mansion to provide disaster relief until they got through the drought.

The drought ended. Yang Zifeng gained a reputation for virtue throughout the land, and Jingshan also became a living Buddha of compassion. Past grievances were all written off. People privately called Master Jingshan someone who had all living beings in his heart, while Zifeng had repented his sins and turned back from the wrong path. Though it began with evil karma, it produced good fruit. It was the best arrangement and trial in the world.

But was it so?

She saw that Buddhist cultivator standing in the midst of barren wasteland, his gaze angry and desolate, sometimes painful, sometimes unwilling, sometimes bewildered, sometimes hesitant. Finally, under the eyes of all people in the world, he gradually fell silent, speaking no more.

He seemed to have become a truly virtuous person whose heart was for all living beings.

He repaired Liuquan Temple, avoiding crowds and living on Mount Yuega. His cultivation was profound, and his heart was kind. Whenever people had injustices or difficulties, they would always seek him out.

He traveled to many places and met many different people. His brow carried a tranquil and broad expression, as if he had seen through all the chaotic complexities of the mortal world.

He slayed man-eating giant beasts roaming everywhere, built a Buddha pagoda from the beast bones, and used his yuanli to forge an Xiezhi statue placed before the pagoda. Day after day, he wandered around the Buddha pagoda until he achieved nirvana and ascended to heaven.

Every person entering the Buddha pagoda had to undergo Xiezhi’s trial – only the innocent could become Buddha, only the innocent could resolve his confusion.

So what exactly was he confused about?

A person single-mindedly wanting revenge, only because he was formerly a good person, only because he had to save all the people under heaven, was forced to let go of personal grudges and watch helplessly as his enemy lived well right before his eyes. Blood debts were hard to clear, grief and anger hard to calm. Under that face that was always compassionate and gentle, an extreme unwillingness was hidden.

Every night, he would repeat to himself over and over in his heart: let it go, you should let it go. All conditioned phenomena are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, shadows, like dew and lightning – thus should you contemplate them.

Everything is illusory.

Since it’s illusory, why be attached?

He grew old, no longer continuing to break through, and finally reached the time of nirvana. He instructed his disciples on posthumous affairs, then alone entered the Five-Ring Pagoda and achieved seated meditation death there.

The world spread the tale that Master Jingshan had achieved perfect merit and attained nirvana to become Buddha.

But no one knew that until the moment he closed his eyes, he was still confused.

Wasn’t it said that at the time of nirvana, all virtues are perfected and all evils extinguished? He should escape the suffering of life and death and attain complete tranquil bliss. He should no longer perceive pain or feel confusion. But why, after his death, had he still not escaped this mortal suffering, repeatedly recalling that scene under the city wall when all the people pleaded with him?

His heart was uncomprehending and angry. The hidden unwillingness rotated within this Buddha pagoda, his obsession fusing with the pagoda itself, gradually becoming the final trial of the Five-Ring Pagoda.

A trial whose trap others could hardly detect.

Those reincarnating eight sufferings and mortal world were nothing but clouds and smoke, merely to draw out Jingshan’s final obsession.

Saving ten thousand people was a merit, becoming a Buddha.

Killing one person was a karmic obstacle, becoming a demon.

He repeatedly, over and over again, questioned the cultivators who came to reincarnate. Becoming Buddha or becoming a demon – it all lay in a single thought.

The enormous golden Buddha sat upright in the darkness, with solemn, treasured appearance and compassionate dignity, quietly watching visitors weep. That sorrowful smiling face seemed to hide years of persistent confusion.

Why not let it go? Why the bewilderment? Why couldn’t he feel peace? Why couldn’t he eliminate all these troubles?

Countless bewilderments and confusions rang out in the darkness, as if Buddhist Sanskrit sounds from the Buddha realm were transmitted from far to near, like inescapable incantations, each sound imprinting itself into people’s hearts.

Zanxing looked toward the enormous golden Buddha statue before her: “You want to ask me why I can’t let it go?”

The golden Buddha silently gazed back at her.

“Very simple.” Zanxing paused, then slowly spoke: “Because I am mortal.”

Being mortal means having joy, anger, sorrow, and fear, love, hate, and foolish thoughts. It means having troubles, confusion, lying awake late at night, and brooding over past compromises. This isn’t stupidity, this isn’t sin – this is simply the most ordinary feelings of mortals.

Jingshan was the same.

Buddha would have no confusion, but he wasn’t Buddha.

He was just a person.

A pitiful person who couldn’t let go of hatred.