Chapter 183 — Hard to Cross

Master Pu Cheng's gaze flickered. "You are a man of great wisdom, benefactor. Since you have seen through it, why not see through these worldly attachments as well and enter the Buddha's fold? By this old monk's reckoning, all that is in your heart comes down to a single word: 'stillness.' What say you?"

Ming Li was silent. After a long while he rose, made a bow to Master Pu Cheng, and said mildly, "For your guidance, Master, I am deeply grateful. But though some understanding may have arisen in my heart, it is not that I have seen through the ways of the world. To me, these worldly attachments are precisely what I cannot bear to cut away."

Master Pu Cheng shook his head. "The Buddha says: form is emptiness! All things in this world are thus—gratitude and grievance, love and hate, beauties and foes, all of them are but the one word 'form,' which confounds the mind and disturbs one's calm. Why must you cling so, benefactor?"

Ming Li drew a breath toward the heavens, gave a great laugh, turned, and departed, saying in a clear voice as he went, "Master, you are mistaken. Form is emptiness—then emptiness too is form. You would have me see through the ways of the world, yet do you not know how the ways of the world can be seen through? I stand between heaven and earth, and gratitude and grievance, love and hate—these are my whole life's circumstance. You would have me see through them into calm; yet how do you know that what lies beyond the seeing-through would still be me?"

His voice gradually sank low and at last was heard no more; the man had already gone far from that meditation room. Fa Cheng was silent a long while, then said to Master Pu Cheng, "Master, you have guided him again and again, and yet, alas..."

Master Pu Cheng said calmly, "He has comprehended the cultivation of the Dao and the dharma; in the future I fear he will be the foremost figure in the world. But such a figure cannot see through his own inner demon. What comes after will depend upon his own fate."

Fa Cheng bowed his head, pressed his palms together, and recited the Buddha's name, and spoke no more.

Ming Li left the Little Fan Yin Temple. As he stepped through the temple gate he suddenly halted again, paused a moment, then turned to the right; after a few steps he indeed saw a great stone, half a man's height, lying on the ground.

He went up to the stone and examined it carefully, but saw only that it was covered in mottled marks; there was not a single word or phrase upon it, nor any trace of human carving, and he could not tell what mystery this stone held.

Ming Li frowned and pondered a moment; then his gaze suddenly fixed—something on the stone had caught his eye.

The stone was mottled all over, plainly scarred by who knew how many ages of wind and frost, blade and sword; yet in that one place there was faintly discernible the shape of a pattern. Only, the years were so deep that it was hard to make out.

Ming Li reached out and gently brushed the dust from the stone, examining it closely; after a long while he at last recognized it as the shape of a seashell—only, with the passing of countless years it had turned to stone and become one with the great rock.

Then Ming Li looked the great stone over again carefully, but found no other oddity.

His gaze returned once more to that seashell. Could it be that what Master Pu Cheng wanted him to see was this most ordinary seashell? And what mystery lay in it?

In his heart he went over Master Pu Cheng's words once more, his gaze fixed on the seashell, and slowly it began to brighten. The Sumeru range rose high, and for a thousand li around there was no sea or deep ocean; yet this stone was plainly a thing of Mount Sumeru. Ten million years ago, perhaps this place had been a vast ocean—who could say it was not so?

A man's life, set against the turning of heaven and earth and the vicissitudes of the world, is but a grain in the vast sea, a mustard seed within Sumeru.

Yet he said nothing, but turned and made a bow toward that quiet little temple; when he turned back, his face still wore its calm expression.

With a sweep of his robe, a faint white light arose, and his figure turned to radiance and flew up into the sky, gradually vanishing above the firmament.

See through!

But who can see through?

The world's vicissitudes—how can they compare with that instant in my heart, that fleeting glimmer of light?

Mount Canglan, Great Zhu Peak.

Some time had passed since the Battle of Qingyun. Afterward, Dao Yan Zhenren, because of the matter of the Immortal-Slaying Ancient Sword, had kept a close watch on the people of Great Zhu Peak for a while; but lately the disciples of Great Zhu Peak had indeed been very well-behaved, and the sect master's urgings had grown less frequent. In truth, in the hearts of the Great Zhu Peak disciples, though the sect master Dao Yan Zhenren's concern was over a grave matter, his conduct had been somewhat excessive.

Be that as it may, they had after all gone a long while without disturbance, and Great Zhu Peak had gradually returned to its former calm. The injuries of Wu Dayi and He Dachuan had slowly healed as well; after Su Wan's examination, both were now nearly recovered. The two could walk about freely, though they could not yet do heavy work.

And so, as had been the custom, along with the cleaning of everyone's rooms, the task of cleaning the room of the young junior brother who had left—in that quiet corner—continued as well. On this day, Song Dayi and Du Biyan once again walked toward that room.

Chatting and laughing, as they had countless times before, the two entered that courtyard.

But just then, suddenly, a gray shadow flashed past in that courtyard which ought to have been silent.

The gray shadow moved with extreme speed, but Song Dayi and Du Biyan both saw it almost at the same instant. Startled, they at once dropped their cleaning things and dashed forward. But the gray shadow vanished in the blink of an eye; the two searched the whole courtyard, even going up onto the roof, yet found not a single trace.

Standing in the courtyard, Song Dayi and Du Biyan looked at each other. Song Dayi frowned and said, "Could we have been mistaken?"

Du Biyan tilted his head and thought, and was about to speak when he suddenly started and said in a low voice, "Eldest Senior Brother, look over there." So saying, he pointed a finger behind Song Dayi.

Song Dayi hastily turned to look; following the direction of Du Biyan's finger, he saw that in the young junior brother's former bedroom the door was shut tight, but the window beside it had at some point come open a narrow crack. And since no one had lived here of late, the window should naturally have been shut fast.

Song Dayi and Du Biyan exchanged a glance, and each saw the alarm and uncertainty in the other's eyes. Song Dayi steadied himself and said in a low voice, "Let us go in and look."

Du Biyan, for some reason, had grown nervous; nodding, he could not help lowering his voice to Song Dayi: "Eldest Senior Brother, could it be... could it be the young junior brother, he..."

Song Dayi's eye twitched; plainly what was in his mind was much the same as Du Biyan's, but the thought seemed to frighten even him. Perhaps, if he truly saw that junior brother who was now a stranger to them, he would not know how to face him.

When his hand touched that wooden door, Song Dayi and Du Biyan exchanged another glance; then, as though their resolve had hardened, Song Dayi gritted his teeth, gave a shout, and cried loudly, "Who goes there?" And with that shout he flung the door open.

Almost as the door swung open, a gray shadow flashed within the room; as though startled, it leaped from the table onto the bed, then turned around, its two eyes rolling and darting, and toward the two men standing dumbstruck in the doorway it began to cry, "Zhi zhi zhi zhi!"

"Little Gray!"

Song Dayi and Du Biyan cried out together.

"Gu."