Mount Sumeru — a name that resounded with magnificent grandeur. It was the supreme sacred land of the Buddhist faith, and surrounding it were countless legends that had left behind endless mysteries in the world.
This most ancient of immortal mountains was famous not only throughout the Northern Dipper star domain — even in other ancient star domains, it was the subject of boundless tales, representing the very foundation of Buddhism, its significance immeasurable.
Now Ye Fan had led a great army to this place, and upon truly facing Mount Sumeru and seeing its true form, he felt a deep trembling in his heart.
Mount Sumeru was immense beyond measure — soaring into the vault of heaven, towering and vast, able to pierce the sky itself, able to fill the oceans, stretching across ancient and modern times alike, imperishable through ten thousand ages.
Standing before it, one felt a profound sense of one’s own insignificance — like an ant gazing up at the river of stars, utterly out of proportion, keenly aware of one’s own weakness.
“According to legend, Mount Sumeru stands eighty-four thousand yojanas tall.” Dongfang Ye said, gripping his great club and baring his teeth. The wild man felt rather like a mayfly gazing up at a towering ancient tree.
One yojana is approximately thirteen thousand meters, which by that reckoning would make Mount Sumeru’s elevation a truly astronomical figure — though its actual height was surely exaggerated. Even so, the mountain’s grandeur and magnificence were plain to see: it was the most magnificent of all the ancient mountains in the Northern Dipper star domain, vast and boundless, majestic and immense, without peer.
Mount Sumeru was only the main peak. Around it stood several other mountains, equally magnificent, with silver waterfalls cascading down and the sound of Buddhist chanting never ceasing from one’s ears, setting off the central Mount Sumeru and making it seem even more vast and grand.
At the foot of the mountain, a body of water encircled its base. Viewed from afar it seemed unremarkable, but upon drawing close, it astonished all who saw it — this body of water was extraordinarily expansive, resembling nothing less than a sea.
“This must be the Seven Treasures Pond,” Li Heishui said.
Buddhist scriptures recorded that within the Pure Land there exists a Seven Treasures Pond — this pool is naturally occurring rather than man-made, hence its name. It is also called the Eight Meritorious Virtues Pond, for within it flows water imbued with eight meritorious virtues.
The water is crystal clear and translucent, also known as Eight-Taste Water or Eight-Defined Water. It possesses eight supreme qualities: clarity and purity, cool freshness, sweetness, lightness and softness, moistening and nourishing, gentleness and harmony, the quenching of hunger and thirst, and the nurturing and cultivation of all the faculties.
The Eight Meritorious Virtue Water was immensely precious, coveted by every Buddhist pilgrim who sought this place. Drinking it brought numerous wondrous benefits: it could carry one far from impurity, purify the body, cleanse and calm the mind, nourish and cultivate the six sense faculties, and drive away illness and suffering.
To ascend Mount Sumeru, one must first cross the sea — traverse this sea of Eight Meritorious Virtue Water.
Long Ma called out: “Drink it all dry and see how they flaunt its nobility and rarity then.” Saying this, he opened his great mouth, preparing to take all of it into his belly, and brought out a magical instrument to collect the water.
However, the Sea of Eight Meritorious Virtues emitted immeasurable Buddhist radiance as waves of Buddhist chanting shook the ears, instantly blocking his technique — not a single drop was drawn out.
Everyone knew that Mount Sumeru would not be easy to assault, but no one had expected that even the water at the foot of the mountain would be so extraordinary — like a mighty fortress, standing squarely in their path.
The main peak rose from the center of the clear and luminous sea, towering and enormous, majestic to an indescribable degree. In the spaces between visibility and obscurity, one could glimpse several grand temples situated upon the mountain.
As for the Great Thunder Sound Temple, it could not be seen at all — it sat at the very summit, eighty-four thousand yojanas above the ground. Even with a Heavenly Eye, it remained invisible, blocked by the body of the mountain itself.
“It is so vast. I can feel a surging force like the open ocean circulating throughout the mountain. I sense that even without any defensive formation arrays, simply attempting to push through with brute force alone might not be enough to penetrate the power of the Buddhist faith.” Yan Yixi said, his white robes rippling and fluttering, unable to suppress his sigh.
The entire body of the mountain was glowing. A gentle and pure resonance of devotional power drifted about it, and great swathes of light rose steaming from its surface. This was no longer ordinary earth — it was like an old dwelling of immortals.
Layer upon layer of silver radiance steamed upward, and a pale golden luminescence flowed throughout — this was the most supremely pure power of faith, bestowed upon the mountain’s body and so dense it could not be dispersed.
This power was so immense it made the heart and spirit tremble — utterly beyond calculation. The entire mountain body had long since been divinized; every blade of grass and every tree had taken on a Buddhist nature, thoroughly nourished by that radiance.
This was the accumulated devotional power of Buddhist practitioners throughout the entire universe over hundreds of thousands of years, laid down through countless ages of time, before it could give rise to this present inconceivable spectacle.
Deep in the cosmos, many worlds with ancient sacred grounds carried on the lineage of Amitabha Buddha. Infinite faith crossed the void, unhindered by distance, ultimately flowing in its entirety toward Mount Sumeru.
Compared to Mount Sumeru, the Divine Domain on the other shore was as a small witch beside a great one — the gap was simply too vast. This was a true sea formed from the power of faith!
At this moment, waves upon waves of radiance surged and billowed, permeating the entire ancient mountain, making it appear solemn and sacred, profoundly moving to behold.
“Dong—”
A great bell rang out, deep and resonant, its long peal shaking the heavens, emanating from an ancient temple on Mount Sumeru. It entered the ears like a sacred scripture, deafening yet awakening, rousing all who heard it.
“What grand airs. Are the monks of Mount Sumeru warning us?” The Shencan Princess gave a cold laugh. Toward the Buddhist faith, she seemed to harbor deep-seated grievances.
This was hardly surprising. The Victorious Fighting Buddha had once been her husband — yet after entering the Buddhist faith, he never looked back. Regarding all that lay behind this, the outside world was filled with countless versions and theories, the most extreme and terrifying of which held that the Victorious Fighting Buddha might have lost himself, stripped of his true self.
“Amitabha. Honored guests, you have arrived in great numbers and with great force — what is your purpose? This pure land of the Buddhist faith cannot bear this kind of sword-edge and blade-shadow.” An old monk appeared, standing at the foot of Mount Sumeru, chanting a Buddhist invocation.
In response, Ye Fan directly drew a precious bow — a magical instrument forged upon the Ancient Road of the human race. He nocked a sacred bone arrow to the bowstring, drew it back until it formed a perfect full moon, and loosed it.
It was a terrifying beam of light, imbued with Ye Fan’s divine pathway power, accompanied by flashing lightning and thunderclaps, howling winds raging, streaking directly toward the old monk at the foot of Mount Sumeru.
Rumble—!
Heaven crumbled and earth split apart as the sacred bone arrow tore through heaven and earth in an instant, as though it could destroy everything in its path, shattering the void ahead of it.
The old monk’s expression changed. With a sweep of his great sleeve, an immeasurable torrent of faith power cascaded down from Mount Sumeru, transforming into a waterfall that crashed directly down onto the sacred bone arrow. With a sharp crack, it shattered, reduced to powder.
Everyone’s expressions changed. Ye Fan’s power was extraordinary — the arrow he had loosed was sufficient to threaten an early-stage Great Sage — yet it had been destroyed outright by the power of faith.
This place was terrifyingly powerful. This boundless devotional power was more vast than the ocean, more immense than the starry sky — nothing in existence could compare to it.
“Honored guest, what is the meaning of this? To draw a weapon in this pure land of the Buddhist faith and shoot an arrow at this old monk — you have gone too far,” the old monk said.
Ye Fan replied coldly: “What I shot was your self-delusion. Buddhism speaks of true nature, yet you, knowing full well my purpose in coming, still speak of sword-edge and blade-shadow, turning the question back on us — I was simply helping you cut away those distracting thoughts.”
“Amitabha.” The old monk intoned the Buddha’s name repeatedly, calling out his own wrongdoing.
“Bald thief, stop chanting your sutras over there. Hand over my great nephew, or I will overturn your Mount Sumeru!” Dongfang Ye roared. His upper body was bare, his vigorous bronze-colored physique rippling with muscles that coiled like dragons, gleaming with luster, as he lifted his spiked great club.
“This poor monk acknowledges his error — I have given rise to the hindrance of anger, and shall settle it myself,” the old monk said.
With a soft crack, his body shattered apart, dissolving into wisps of smoke and mist, finally merging back into Mount Sumeru.
Everyone was momentarily stunned, then drew in a sharp breath of cold air. This had only been a projection of devotional thought — an apparition born from the faith power of Mount Sumeru, not the true body of any ancient Buddha.
Mount Sumeru, assembled from the boundless devotional power of countless Buddhist practitioners — it was truly unfathomable.
“Dong—” The great bell rang out, long and resonant, its sound waves carrying for tens of thousands of li, washing through the souls of all who heard it.
Halfway up Mount Sumeru, a sweep of mist and cloud dispersed, revealing an ancient temple. This was clearly not the Great Thunder Sound Temple, but merely one of the most important temples of the Buddhist faith.
A middle-aged monk stood before the temple gates, hands pressed together, chanting the Buddha’s name. “Honored guests, please turn back. There are only monks and the Buddha here — the ones you seek are not present.”
“Those who leave home to practice do not speak falsehoods. You are a disciple of the Buddhist faith — yet you speak baseless words. Hua Hua is on this very mountain. Why do you say he is not?” Ye Tong shouted.
He was full of heroic bearing, with a blazing sun shining within his body; every inch of his flesh and blood radiated light. Speaking out in this loud challenge, his presence was stunning — like a celestial god descended into the world.
“All names of the past have become smoke. Here there is only the Buddha and principle,” the middle-aged monk said.
Everyone had already discerned that this was a real person — flesh and blood, not a conjuration of pure devotional power.
“Spare us your nonsense. Hand over Hua Hua. You enslave people, yet still dare speak of Buddha and principle here? Is this place truly worthy of that name?” Li Tian gave a cold laugh.
“This pure land of the Buddhist faith has no Hua Hua. Honored guest, please turn back.” The middle-aged monk’s expression was one of complete serenity.
“In that case, we shall break through the mountain gate and search for him ourselves!” Long Ma bellowed sharply.
“Amitabha. This is the place of cultivation and contemplation for those who have left home. Guests, you have cultivated impropriety — please go far away from here.” The middle monk pressed his palms together and said.
Ye Fan spoke: “The Buddha has said that all living beings are equal, that every person possesses Buddha-nature and can attain Buddhahood. What distinction is there between us and you? We can naturally ascend Mount Sumeru. Stand aside at once.”
The middle-aged monk’s expression stiffened momentarily. “All of you are clearly great demons, all arriving with murderous intent, having lost your true nature — how could you be permitted to enter?” he said.
“What a laughingstock. And just who is the great demon here? You suppress my master’s disciple and reduce him to servitude — we come to his door to rescue him, yet you define us as demons. I think it is you yourself who has gone astray!” Ye Tong rebuked sharply.
Just at that moment, a young monk descended from the summit of Mount Sumeru, wearing a moon-white Buddhist robe, appearing transcendent and otherworldly. “Honored guest, you are mistaken,” he said. “The Buddha’s path is one of compassion. Guiding a person of affinity into the Buddhist faith is his great fortune — how can it be called suppression?”
“The Buddha’s enlightenment is meant to relieve the great suffering of the mortal world, transforming and dissolving all hardships and difficulties. But what you have transformed is a person — suppressing him into servitude. The gulf between these two endeavors is immense. You have gathered greed, anger, and delusion all in one go.”
Amitabha Buddha had established his faith, founding the Buddhist religion, with followers everywhere, collecting the power of faith — this was a grand transformation of the world, yet it was not a suppression of others’ true will, but rather a mutual exchange of give and take.
He was transforming a great age, saving all living beings, receiving the power of faith in return — but also allowing his followers to be full of spirit, light in body and sound in health, a mutual benefit to both sides.
The conversion now imposed upon Hua Hua ran contrary to the original scripture. It had long since become utterly unrecognizable — a pure and brutal suppression, a washing of the primordial spirit, stripping him of his sense of self.
“If conversion could put an end to strife, that would be another matter. Yet Hua Hua has done no wrong — what does he have to do with you? He was brutally suppressed. Today, if an accounting is not given, then we shall overturn this Mount Sumeru.” The people of the Heavenly Village shouted, their voices like the roar of a lion.
“Honored guests, your attachments are too deep. You have distorted the Buddha’s intent. What is the use of this? All is empty and still — do not be attached to appearances,” the young monk said.
It was evident that his status was no ordinary one, and his cultivation was formidable — he carried an air of composure and self-assurance.
“Clang!”
Suddenly, Ye Fan — who had remained silent until now — moved. He drew a dark crimson immortal sword and slashed it forward in a single stroke. Immortal light swept across dozens of li. With a sharp hiss, it caught the monk, severing his head and sending it tumbling to the ground.
Mount Sumeru was enormously powerful, with boundless faith power flowing throughout — yet against this sudden strike from the imperial weapon, it could not mount a full defense.
“All is empty and still. What is the use of this?” Ye Fan said lightly.
“Pft!”
The young monk’s severed head dissolved into bloody mud, his body disintegrated, and he perished utterly, filled to the last with unwillingness.
“What needed to be said has been said. You clearly coveted my disciple’s Buddhist divine abilities, yet you spoke falsehood after falsehood — better I help you achieve the emptiness of all four elements.” Ye Fan paused, then continued: “I too possess a method for transforming the great suffering of the mortal world. I intend to establish a faith in the Western Desolation and bring salvation to all living beings — beginning with Mount Sumeru.”