Chapter 708 - 561: The Aspiration in the Disciple’s Heart: Is It Right or Wrong?
Chapter 708: Chapter 561: The Aspiration in the Disciple’s Heart: Is It Right or Wrong?
In the pouring rain, Xiao Mo made his way up the mountain, one step at a time.
He was drenched, his clothes plastered to his skin, but he seemed utterly oblivious.
Head bowed, he walked onward, lost in thought.
When Xiao Mo reached the main gate of Sikong Temple, he stopped.
"Master..."
Xiao Mo looked up and saw his master standing nearby, waiting for him in silence.
"Have you seen the lady?" asked the Abbot, Yuan Kong, his voice as calm as ever.
"I have." Xiao Mo nodded as rain streamed down his cheeks and dripped onto the ground.
"And what did the lady say to you?" Yuan Kong asked again with a smile.
"Miss Jing Ci... told me a story," Xiao Mo replied softly.
"I see..." Yuan Kong nodded, his gaze falling compassionately on his disciple. "Actually, I have also heard a story. I wonder if you’ve heard it?"
"I wish to hear it," Xiao Mo said.
Yuan Kong’s voice drifted through the curtain of rain. "Once upon a time, there was a woman of the Demon Race who fell deeply in love with a man of the Human Race."
"Later, the woman became pregnant. But because of the child’s unique nature, its Human and Demon bloodlines were in conflict. Thus, the woman had no choice but to split her unborn child’s bloodline in two."
"The price, however, was that the child’s destined path was also split in two."
"The younger sister, who inherited the Demon bloodline, had to reach the Ascension Realm within a thousand years. But her people’s path to power is through love—a task far from simple."
"As for the older sister, who inherited the Human bloodline, she would need to dual cultivate with a man. But this man had to be able to practice a very special Cultivation Technique, one that no one had mastered in thousands of years."
"And who would have thought..." Yuan Kong’s gaze on Xiao Mo was profound. "That such a man would truly exist in this world... The younger sister fell in love with him, and he mastered that very Cultivation Technique."
Hearing his master’s words, Xiao Mo looked up, his eyes wide with astonishment.
"There is a saying: past causes, present effects." Yuan Kong gave a small smile and continued slowly, "In this world, some are reborn and forget everything that came before. But for others... can they truly forget?"
"Master..." Xiao Mo opened his mouth, but he was at a loss for words.
"Child, some things need not be said." Yuan Kong shook his head gently, his gaze warm and compassionate. "I’ve already had Que Yang see to the sick in your place today. Go to the main hall and chant the sutras."
"Yes... Master..." Xiao Mo pressed his palms together and bowed respectfully before turning to enter the temple.
Yuan Kong stood silently in place, watching the child he had raised walk away, step by step, into the distance.
In the curtain of rain, his drenched figure looked frail, yet burdened by an ineffable weight.
"Amitabha Buddha."
Yuan Kong pressed his palms together, closed his eyes, and murmured the Buddha’s name.
...
After passing through the antechamber and courtyard, Xiao Mo arrived at the main hall.
With every step, his soaked Monk’s Robe left a long, wet trail on the stone tiles.
By now, the worshippers at Sikong Temple had long since departed.
The vast hall was empty, save for a towering statue of the Buddha seated high at the front, flanked by other buddhas who gazed down with lowered eyes in utter silence.
Xiao Mo walked to the foot of the statue and slowly knelt upon a meditation cushion.
"Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, practicing deep Prajna Paramita, clearly saw that all five aggregates are empty and thus relieved all suffering."
"O, Shariputra, form does not differ from emptiness, emptiness does not differ from form. That which is form is emptiness, that which is emptiness is form. The same is true of feelings, perceptions, impulses, and consciousness."
"O, Shariputra, all dharmas are marked with emptiness; they do not appear or disappear, are not tainted or pure, and do not increase or decrease."
"Therefore, in emptiness there is no form, nor feeling, nor perception, nor impulse, nor consciousness; no eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, mind; no forms, sounds, smells, tastes, touches, or objects of mind; no realm of the eye and so forth until no realm of mind-consciousness. There is no ignorance and no extinction of ignorance, and so forth until no old age and death and no extinction of old age and death."
"..."
Xiao Mo chanted the sutras with his eyes closed, the clear, serene sound of his voice echoing through the vast, empty hall.
Yet, in this hall, where the sound of sutras lingered amidst sacred idols, an image of a woman surfaced in his mind, unbidden.
’He remembered her back when she was just a little fox, bouncing up to him, tilting her small face up, and asking his name in a bright, clear voice.’
’He remembered her mischievous expression as she made faces at him in the Book Hall when the teacher wasn’t looking, her eyes glinting with smug delight.’
’He remembered when she had blossomed into a graceful young woman. Under the flowing, liquid moonlight, every word she spoke felt as if it were etched into his very heart, impossible to erase.’
’He remembered her pretending to be a farm girl with an injured foot, thinking her ruse was flawless, never knowing that he had seen through it from the start.’
’He remembered her sneaking into Sikong Temple in the dead of night, quiet and stealthy.’
’He remembered her clinging to the doorframe, peeking in with half her face, softly calling, "Monk..." over and over.’
’"Monk, you only have the Three Refuges, but I have Four. Don’t you want to hear them...?"’
’The woman’s delicate brows were arched, her smile radiant, and her eyes brimming with tenderness.’
’When she looked at him, it was as if her eyes held all the splendor of spring.’
’"What are the Four Refuges?" the Monk had asked, looking up in confusion.’
’"Hold out your hand, and I’ll teach you..."’
’The woman took his large hand, placed it gently on her lap, and began to speak. Her voice, word by word, was like moonlight falling upon a tranquil lake, creating gentle, ever-widening ripples...’
’"Repeat after me..."’
’The woman softly recited, "I take refuge in the Buddha."’
’The Monk repeated, "I take refuge in the Buddha."’
’The woman: "I take refuge in the Dharma."’
’The Monk: "I take refuge in the Dharma."’
’The woman: "I take refuge in the Sangha."’
’The Monk: "I take refuge in the Sangha."’
’"I take refuge in..." The woman lifted her eyes to meet his, her gaze as soft as still water. "...Miss Jing Ci."’
’"Hm?" The Monk looked up at her, confused.’
’"Say it..." Her smile, like the gentle bloom of a lamp’s flame, flickered in the depths of Xiao Mo’s mind. Her voice carried a faint tremor. "I take refuge... in Miss Jing Ci."’
After some time, the image of the woman slowly dissipated from Xiao Mo’s mind, and her voice faded from his ears.
The chanting in the main hall ceased.
Xiao Mo opened his eyes, lifted his head, and gazed silently at the great Buddha before him.
The Buddha’s eyes were downcast, its gaze resting upon Xiao Mo.
Man and Buddha faced each other in silence. The great hall was utterly still.
’Thinking of what he had to do next, Xiao Mo’s heart filled with a profound sense of desolation.’
The man addressed the Buddha, asking in his heart—
’Is what my heart desires right... or is it wrong?’
The Buddha held up a flower and smiled.
It did not answer.
Nor did it speak.