Sect Recruitment: I Can See Attribute Entries

Chapter 521: Chapter 522: A Fist at the Slightest Raise of a Hand

Dong Gua’s gaze swept across the temple’s interior.

She discovered that there were no Buddha statues here, nor any incense altar. There wasn’t even an offering table.

The only objects of reverence were the solemn Buddha images painted directly onto the crumbling yellow mud walls—and they were strikingly fresh.

The painted figures weren’t large individually, but there were many of them, covering the entire wall and extending to either side.

Each Buddha was rendered with clear, precise brushwork. On closer inspection, the paint hadn’t fully dried in some places—suggesting the old monk added to them daily.

All the Buddha figures were faceless. Only their eyes had been painted, and each pair was different—some seemed compassionate, some wrathful, some questioning, some sorrowful.

Dong Gua glanced to the side and saw that even beneath the tree branches that had pierced into the hall, the old monk had painted a Buddha.

That Buddha reached out with a delicate hand, gently pinching a green leaf, as though cradling the essence of life itself.

If these had been ordinary paintings, they wouldn’t have been enough to surprise Dong Gua.

But standing where she was, she felt as though all those eyeless Buddha figures were turning to look at her—simultaneously examining and pitying her.

It wasn’t a simple trick of the mind. Dong Gua’s divine sense could actually detect a faint, intermittent gaze emanating from the paintings.

Dong Gua looked at the elderly monk, who had just picked up his brush. His aura was deep and formidable—his cultivation was unquestionably above hers.

But to paint with such divine spiritual resonance... how high must his cultivation truly be?

Mahayana? Or Tribulation Transcendence?

The old monk dipped his brush into the pigments resting on the ground and added a few strokes to the wall.

”It’s been a long time,” he said softly. ”Given your habits, I imagine you’ve come with trouble.”

Wu Kong pressed his palms together with deep humility. ”I have an important matter and must ask for your assistance.”

”That address doesn’t suit me.” The elderly monk chuckled softly as he carefully outlined a Buddha’s robes.

”Even if you want my help, I may not agree.”

Wu Kong yielded gracefully and gestured for the old monk to look at Dong Gua.

”Naturally, I couldn’t persuade you on my own. That’s why I’ve brought someone else.”

The elderly monk paused his brush and turned his gaze to Dong Gua, whose expression of surprise hadn’t fully faded.

He lowered his eyes slightly, looked back at Wu Kong, and spoke in a quiet voice.

”Your heart leans toward righteousness, but your methods leave much to be said.”

Wu Kong’s tone was steady as he replied.

”I have no desire to become a Buddha. Being an Wrathful Arhat is enough.”

The elderly monk laughed softly and shook his head. With a light flick of his brush, a wisp of colored pigment drifted through the air like rising incense smoke.

In the faint sunlight, it drifted toward Dong Gua almost imperceptibly. In the dimmer corners, the smoke was nearly invisible—but it settled gently over Dong Gua’s eyes all the same.

Dong Gua didn’t notice anything amiss. But she could no longer hear the two men’s conversation clearly.

The elderly monk set down his brush and surveyed Dong Gua once more before asking.

”So this is the demon you spoke of? You’ve been provoking her emotions along the way, haven’t you? The six desires are in turmoil—anger and fear have risen to dominate.”

Wu Kong gave a slight nod.

”Otherwise, by the time I brought her before you, you might not have been able to spot what was wrong either.”

The old monk sighed softly.

”These are truly troubled times... This world no longer resembles the mortal realm. It resembles hell.”

”You, I, and everyone else—we’ve all tried to stand apart from it. But the mortal realm has become hell regardless.”

Wu Kong’s gaze shifted to Dong Gua.

”Though you reside in this small courtyard, news from all directions must still reach you, does it not?”

”Xuanqing Heavenly Sect, Taicheng Dao Sect, Tian Yan Sect. Chu Xingchen, Xu Jin...”

”And Bai Xuanling, who has drawn her sword once more at the peak of Tribulation Transcendence.”

”When all is said and done, what does this have to do with them? If the Eighteen Great Sects must fall, they would be the last to go.”

”Do the heavens and all living beings truly rest on a single person’s shoulders?”

”You’ve been painting all this time. Have you truly achieved any enlightenment?”

The elderly monk held his brush delicately and extended a finger toward Dong Gua, stopping just one inch from her face.

The eyeless Buddha figures on the mural shifted their gazes, all turning toward Dong Gua—as though trying to see her clearly.

Dong Gua’s expression shifted to one of outright terror. Her pupils trembled, and her body tried to struggle, but she couldn’t move a muscle.

”Enlightenment I have found,” the old monk said, his clear eyes studying the expressions within Dong Gua’s own.

”But you may not wish to hear it.”

”Since this is a great calamity, no one can stand outside of it—not even me. What would you have me do for you?”

Wu Kong pressed his palms together and spoke with solemn reverence.

”There are two matters. The first is to paint a new identity for Dong Gua—to conceal the karmic currents around her, especially the lifeline within her body. She may prove very useful. At present, she is the only asset I have.”

The elderly monk’s expression grew complex.

”That is somewhat troublesome. Tell me the second matter first.”

Wu Kong stepped forward.

”I fear a true upheaval may be brewing within the Buddhist sect. If you could return, you would serve as a stabilizing force.”

”Additionally, the Buddha beneath the pagoda in the Western Continent has already manifested. I went to see it myself before coming to you.”

”He recommended that I meet with Chu Xingchen. Tian Yan Sect’s adherence to the mandate of heaven has long been known, and Chu Xingchen’s ties to the sect run deep.”

”Moreover, Xu Jin of Xuanqing Heavenly Sect is also closely associated with Chu Xingchen, and he was once the locus of the heavenly mandate.”

”The great debate of the Mahayana era may well have had hidden circumstances we don’t yet understand.”

”Furthermore, Chu Xingchen says the Buddhist sect is no longer the Buddhist sect. Coming from him now, those words may carry genuine weight.”

”Finally, whether you return to the Buddhist sect is not for me to decide. But whether you should—you surely understand that better than I.”

Upon hearing this, the elderly monk laughed.

”You’ve just about scattered my old bones to the winds with all your orchestrating.”

”But I do have one small question—why do you care so much?”

Wu Kong looked at the walls covered in painted Buddhas.

”Because I am human. Not a Buddha.”

The elderly monk burst into laughter.

”I’ve painted Buddhas for a hundred years, and perhaps I haven’t attained as much understanding as you.”

”Go and do what you must. You need not worry about matters here.”

Wu Kong quickly turned and bowed deeply.

”I am deeply grateful for your trouble. The disguise needn’t be too elaborate—this person was recommended to me by Chu Xingchen. I’ll bring her back to meet him shortly, so she still needs to be recognizable.”

The elderly monk lifted his brush and pointed it toward Dong Gua’s face.

”Wait outside.”

Wu Kong promptly withdrew and stood beneath the great tree in the courtyard.

Snow fell. The sun rose and the moon set.

Several days and nights later, the broken hall doors slowly creaked open.

The elderly monk emerged first. Dong Gua followed behind him, her gaze somewhat vacant.

Wu Kong studied Dong Gua. Her face showed no visible change, but the divine sense she faintly radiated had been completely altered.

Wu Kong hurried forward, examined her briefly, then pressed his palms together in gratitude to the elderly monk before turning to leave.

The old monk smiled and gently waved his hand through the wisps of colored smoke that still clung around Dong Gua’s eyes.

Dong Gua’s eyes instantly sharpened. She looked at the two men, got her bearings, and rapidly perceived that something had changed.

She fired off questions in rapid succession.

”What did you do to me?”

”Since you need to meet Chu Xingchen, certain measures were necessary.” Wu Kong’s tone was perfectly calm.

”Otherwise, wouldn’t we simply be sending you to your death?”

He then turned to the elderly monk.

”Since the matter is settled, I won’t impose on you any further.”

The old monk waved him off casually.

”Go, go. It’s rare to find a quiet place, yet I still can’t escape your talent for tracking people down.”

Wu Kong bowed once more, then reached out and grabbed Dong Gua—who was wearing an expression of pure fury.

Dong Gua planted her feet, her spiritual energy surging as she prepared to resist to the bitter end.

Wu Kong sighed softly at the sight.

He raised a glowing golden fist and drove it straight into Dong Gua’s skull.

Before Dong Gua could even open her mouth to curse him, a second punch crashed down, cutting off whatever she was about to say.

The elderly monk opened his mouth, about to speak.

Wu Kong raised his fist again and looked at the old monk.

”Would you like a couple of punches too, to vent some frustration?”

The elderly monk hastily shook his head.

”That won’t be necessary... Do as you please.”

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