Sect Recruitment: I Can See Attribute Entries

Chapter 407: Chapter 408: Probably More Than You Do

Western Ox Continent, the Zhengyin Dharma Temple.

This was the Dharma Temple closest to the orthodox Buddhist lineage—the Thunder Sound Dharma Temple—in the entire Western Ox Continent.

The closer one got to the Thunder Sound Pure Land in the Western Ox Continent, the deeper and more unshakable the Buddhist faith became. Nearly all mortals bowed their heads before this supreme belief.

Legend had it that children born here did not cry as their first act but instead pressed their palms together and chanted ”Amitabha.”

This was naturally said in jest, but it did prove the supreme status of Buddhism in these lands.

The Buddhist sect was the only one among the Eighteen Immortal Sects that invested great effort in developing lay followers.

In its early days, the Buddhist sect was genuinely willing to dispatch Bodhisattvas and Guanyin to vanquish disasters for the people when they knocked on the doors of Buddhist temples—no questions asked.

Where Buddhist temples stood, demons and evil spirits retreated.

Since the Western Ox Continent had suffered a great collapse, not only was the land shattered, but the spirit veins were a complete mess.

Cultivators who tried to practice here by drawing on spiritual energy might as well have been opening their mouths to eat the northwest wind.

If cultivators wanted to advance their cultivation, they truly could only rely on spirit stones.

With cultivators weakened, the demons naturally began to show their fangs.

Proper cultivators didn’t eat people—at worst, they’d sustainably exploit resources to depletion. But demons did, and in the most literal sense.

So in the early days of the Western Ox Continent, alongside the simple folk customs, the practice of demons devouring humans was very much in fashion.

Going out and claiming you’d never eaten anyone—that was truly a loss of demonic face.

The Western Ox Continent, since the Great Tribulation, had been reduced to a savage wasteland where monstrous creatures roamed freely.

But these rampaging demons would always give Buddhist temples a wide berth, walking far around giant stone or bronze Buddha statues.

Within a hundred li of any Buddhist temple, they dared not take a human life.

It wasn’t that those Buddha statues possessed boundless power—rather, the Bodhisattvas and Arhats stationed at the temples truly did.

If you dared to eat someone, they dared to chase you down and deliver salvation.

Then they’d parade your head around as a warning while chanting the Rebirth Sutra over you.

The early Buddhist sect truly established its vast flock of believers in the Western Ox Continent through near-pure selfless giving.

Since building a Buddhist temple meant safety, the people of the Western Ox Continent began constructing them one after another.

Impoverished commoners living in mud-brick houses voluntarily devoted immense labor to raising these temples.

Pious and hopeful, they sculpted the merciful Buddhas in their hearts, longing for the Buddha’s light to reach places that the world could scarcely see.

That was the purest form of hope, and also the most helpless of measures.

If they had a choice, no one would wish to place their faith in clay idols and legends.

The establishment of those Buddhist temples was not directed by the Central Province’s Buddhist sect.

In fact, many temples were built without the Buddhist sect’s knowledge at all, so naturally no Arhats were dispatched to garrison them.

But the demons who had been ”saved” into submission couldn’t tell the difference, nor did they dare to gamble their lives on whether a given temple might ”deliver salvation” upon them. They remained fearful.

And so in the Western Ox Continent, one Buddhist temple after another rose up.

Though most people had never seen a Bodhisattva save anyone, these clay Bodhisattvas had genuinely saved their lives.

While the Buddhist sect was not the only light in the Western Ox Continent, it was without question the brightest sliver.

Every surface phenomenon could be traced back to its root essence.

Compared to the boundless terror of the past, the Buddhist sect’s entrenchment, though it affected many things, was already very, very good for ordinary folk.

But there were no other Buddhist temples within three hundred li of the Zhengyin Dharma Temple—it stood as the sole temple in the area.

It was also explicitly recorded by the Central Province’s Buddhist sect as the very first temple established under their authority, the absolute orthodoxy recognized by the Central Province Buddhist sect.

The Zhengyin Dharma Temple was enormous, having undergone who knows how many expansions.

By now, it had reached the scale of a great city.

Magnificent Buddha statues could be seen everywhere within its grounds, Bodhisattvas of all descriptions wore expressions of mercy, and Arhats of every lineage stood fierce and imposing.

This was the ultimate destination of devotion for all Buddhist cultivators and believers in the Western Ox Continent.

The distant Central Province was a land of longing.

The Zhengyin Dharma Temple could be reached through faith and devotion. The Thunder Sound Pure Land and the Thunder Sound Dharma Temple could not.

Yuan Kong slowly came to a halt, his gaze calm as he took in the breathtakingly magnificent structure before him.

As time passed, the former little novice Yuan Kong had grown into a young man.

His once-pale skin had darkened, and his head was no longer smooth—a short stubble of hair remained, not fully shaved away.

The monastic robe draped over him had long since become rag-like, some of it wrapped around his neck like a scarf, its original form unrecognizable.

Yuan Kong’s eyes had also shed their former naivety.

His gaze swept warily over every person around him before finally locking onto the merciful-eyed Guanyin.

Since Yuan Jing’s parinirvana, and after delivering that letter to Ning Qianqian, Yuan Kong had set out on the road to the Western Ox Continent.

Yuan Jing had given many veiled reminders—a heart like Buddha, a body like Buddha was sufficient; there was no need to seek the Buddha upon the Nine Golden Lotuses.

Between the lines, the message was clear: a Buddhist cultivator didn’t necessarily need the Buddha’s recognition, and one should also be wary of those Buddhist sects.

Yuan Kong hadn’t thought too much about it at the time—or perhaps he hadn’t wanted to think too much about it.

When his master was present, the three thousand worldly afflictions fell away entirely.

When his master was gone, his heart found no peace.

Troubles came like rivers and seas, swallowing the misty currents of thought.

As if in meditation.

A myriad of emotions tangled like knotted long hair.

After sending off Yuan Jing, Yuan Kong hadn’t even stayed an extra day at the Chanlin Temple.

Sometimes, the more beautiful the memories, the sharper they cut—especially memories that were irretrievable, that had reached their end.

Sometimes Yuan Kong would sigh at how remarkable the Buddha truly was—able to pick up, and able to put down.

The Buddha might be able to put things down, but as a human being, there were always things one could never let go of in an entire lifetime.

On that day, Yuan Kong suddenly understood—he was no Buddha’s child.

He was merely one of the countless sentient beings drowning in the River of Forgetfulness.

Seeking liberation, yet unwilling to let go of liberation.

When the waves of his heart surged a hundred zhang high, Yuan Kong chose to let the road tell him the answer.

Yuan Kong chose to set forth on the path, to question the True Buddha about how one ought to act.

The choice of road became especially important.

Perhaps the Central Province was more splendid and grand, perhaps the Buddhist cultivators there were more certain in their hearts, better at teaching others how to let go.

But perhaps it was because Yuan Jing had never taken the easiest road, never looked upon the most magnificent scenery.

Yuan Kong also chose a nearly savage road.

The Western Ox Continent, the Zhengyin Dharma Temple.

To stand upon ruined earth and bear good fruit.

Yuan Kong didn’t want to merely hear others’ stories, nor did he want to read gentle parables from Buddhist scriptures.

Now he wanted to see with his own eyes—with those eyes that could pierce through illusion—just what was going on in this world.

This journey had not been easy for Yuan Kong.

At the very least, the Yuan Kong who once believed everything in the world was beautiful had come to understand what was meant by the treachery of human hearts, and had witnessed what it meant to have the will but not the power.

Many things in this world didn’t necessarily need a conclusion.

Only, the seed in his heart had weathered violent storms along the way, and also felt the warmth of gentle sunlight. It had already bloomed into a flower.

Now was the time for it to bear fruit.

Yuan Kong waited for the fruit in his heart to fall to the ground, but he would also demand an answer—why was this world the way it was, and what could the Buddha truly do?

He hesitated no longer, striding forward to face the Bodhisattva wielding the Sword of Wisdom, to meet those gentle Buddha eyes, to confront the towering walls that seemed to shut everything out.

Outside the Buddhist temple gates.

”Where did this beggar come from, with such audacity, daring to come here for a free Buddhist meal? Look at the scruff on your head—do you even look like a monk?”

Yuan Kong looked at the so-called ”eminent monk” before him, dressed in a lavish monastic robe, whose haughty eyes were scrutinizing him.

His expression was calm, his gaze meeting the other’s directly.

When the eminent monk met Yuan Kong’s serene gaze, his originally contemptuous heart suddenly quieted.

He suddenly felt as though this beggar could see right through him.

A trace of merciful smile appeared on Yuan Kong’s face as he spoke with a kind of pity:

”Probably more than you do.”

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