We Agreed On Experiencing Life, So Why Did You Immortals Become Real?

Chapter 561: What This Disciple’s Heart Longs For—Is It Right or Wrong?

Beneath the pouring rain, Xiao Mo walked up the mountain step by step.

By now, Xiao Mo was soaked through by the rain. His clothes clung tightly to his body, yet he seemed completely unaware.

He lowered his head and walked forward one step at a time, and no one knew what he was thinking.

When Xiao Mo reached the gates of Sikong Temple, he stopped.

“Master...”

Xiao Mo raised his head and saw his master standing not far away, silently waiting for him.

“Did you meet that female benefactor?” Abbot Yuankong asked, his voice calm as usual.

“I did.” Xiao Mo nodded. Rainwater slid down along his cheeks, then dripped to the ground.

“Did that female benefactor say anything to you?” Yuankong asked again with a smile.

“Miss Jingci... told me a story,” Xiao Mo answered softly.

“I see...” Yuankong nodded, his kind gaze resting on this disciple of his. “Actually, Master has also heard a story. I wonder whether you have heard this one?”

“This disciple is willing to listen,” Xiao Mo said.

Yuankong’s voice drifted slowly through the rain curtain.

“Once, there was a demon-race woman who fell deeply in love with a human man.”

“Later, the woman became pregnant. But because the child in her womb had a special constitution, the human bloodline and demon-race bloodline conflicted with each other. Thus, the woman could only split the bloodline in the child’s womb in two.”

“But the price was that the child’s path of the Great Dao was also split in two.”

“The younger sister who inherited the demon-race bloodline had to reach the Ascension Realm within one thousand years. And their clan all testify to the Way through emotion. How could that be easy?”

“As for the older sister who inherited the human bloodline, she needed to dual practice with a man. But that man had to be able to cultivate an extremely special cultivation method. And that cultivation method had not been learned by anyone for several thousand years.”

“And no one expected...” Yuankong looked deeply at Xiao Mo. “That such a man would truly exist in this world... The younger sister came to love him, and he learned that cultivation method as well.”

Listening to these words from his master and abbot, Xiao Mo raised his head, his eyes full of surprise.

“There was once a saying—causes from a past life become fruits in this life.” Yuankong smiled and slowly said, “In this world, some people walk through life anew and forget everything from before. But some people... can they truly forget?”

“Master...” Xiao Mo opened his mouth, wanting to say something, yet he did not know how to begin.

“Child, you need not say more.” Yuankong shook his head gently, his gaze warm and loving. “Today, I have already had Queyang go practice medicine in your place. Today, go recite scripture in the great hall.”

“Yes... Master...” Xiao Mo pressed his palms together and bowed respectfully, then turned and walked into the temple.

Yuankong quietly stood where he was, watching the child he had raised from boyhood walk farther away, step by step.

That drenched back looked somewhat thin in the curtain of rain, and it also carried an indescribable heaviness.

“Amitabha.”

Yuankong pressed his palms together, closed his eyes, and recited the Buddha’s name in a low voice.

...

Passing through the front hall and courtyard, Xiao Mo arrived inside the main hall.

With every step he took, his soaked monk’s robe left a long trail of water across the blue-brick floor.

By now, the worshipers of Sikong Temple had long since dispersed.

The vast hall was empty. Only the tall Buddha statue sat high at the very front, with the Buddhas arranged on either side, eyes lowered as they looked down in silent stillness.

Xiao Mo walked beneath the Buddha statue and slowly knelt on the prayer mat.

“When Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara practiced the deep perfection of wisdom, he clearly saw that the five aggregates were all empty and passed beyond all suffering and hardship.”

“Shariputra, form is not different from emptiness; emptiness is not different from form. Form is emptiness; emptiness is form. Feeling, perception, formation, and consciousness are also like this.”

“Shariputra, all dharmas bear the mark of emptiness. They are not born and not destroyed, not defiled and not pure, not increasing and not decreasing.”

“Therefore, in emptiness there is no form, no feeling, perception, formation, or consciousness; no eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, or mind; no sight, sound, scent, taste, touch, or dharma; no realm of the eye, up to and including no realm of mind-consciousness. There is no ignorance, and no end of ignorance, up to and including no old age and death, and no end of old age and death.”

“...”

Xiao Mo closed his eyes and recited the scripture. The clear, tranquil sound of scripture drifted and echoed through the empty great hall.

Yet inside this great hall, where scripture sound lingered and the sacred image stood solemn and majestic, a woman’s figure involuntarily appeared in his mind.

Back then, she had still been a little fox, bouncing over to him, lifting her little face, and asking in a crisp voice what his name was.

When she attended lessons in the schoolhouse, she had waited until the teacher was not paying attention and deliberately made faces at him, her eyes full of smug delight.

She had grown into a graceful young maiden. Beneath moonlight flowing like water, every sentence she spoke, every word, seemed to have been carved into his heart, impossible to erase no matter what.

She had pretended to be a farm girl who had injured her foot, thinking her act flawless, unaware that he had discovered the truth long ago.

Deep in the quiet of night, she had secretly crept into Sikong Temple on tiptoe.

She had clung to the doorframe and poked half her face out, softly calling again and again, “Monk.”

“Monk, you only have the Three Refuges there, but I have Four Refuges here. Do you want to hear them...”

The woman’s willow brows curved, her smile bright, her eyes full of softness.

When she looked at him, those eyes seemed to hold the whole of spring.

“What are the Four Refuges?” the monk raised his head and asked in confusion.

“Hold out your hand. I will teach you...”

The woman took his large hand and gently placed it on her knee. Again and again, sentence after sentence, it was like moonlight falling into a calm lake, stirring ring after ring of tender ripples...

“I will recite one line. You repeat one line...”

The woman recited softly, “Take refuge in the Buddha.”

The monk followed and answered, “Take refuge in the Buddha.”

The woman said, “Take refuge in the Dharma.”

The monk said, “Take refuge in the Dharma.”

The woman said, “Take refuge in the Sangha.”

The monk said, “Take refuge in the Sangha.”

“Take refuge...” The woman lifted her eyes, her gaze gentle as water as she looked at him. “In Miss Jingci...”

“Mm?” The monk raised his head and looked at her in confusion.

“Say it...” Her smile was like a lamp flame quietly blooming in the dark, appearing deep within Xiao Mo’s mind, her voice carrying the faintest tremor. “Take refuge... in Miss Jingci.”

No one knew how much time passed before that woman’s figure slowly faded from Xiao Mo’s mind, and her voice also quietly vanished beside his ears.

The sound of scripture recitation in the great hall stopped with it.

Xiao Mo opened his eyes, raised his head, and quietly looked at the great Buddha before him.

The great Buddha lowered its brows and eyes, looking down at Xiao Mo.

Man and Buddha faced each other without words. The entire great hall was silent.

Thinking of what he was about to do next, Xiao Mo’s heart filled with desolation.

The man paid reverence to the Buddha and asked within his heart—

“What this disciple’s heart longs for—is it right or wrong?”

The Buddha held up a flower and smiled.

It gave no answer.

It spoke no word.