The present age was one where nations and sects stood side by side, and their strengths were not fixed.
Some nations housed many sects within their borders, while some sects controlled many nations.
As a top-tier sect of the Eastern Region — and indeed the entire world — the Hanging Temple commanded territory rivaling that of an ordinary kingdom.
Yet most of it was concealed by arrays, and what was typically revealed to the world was merely its secular portion.
Just as in the State of Yun, one had to tear open the heavens before seeing Lingxiao Pavilion.
The true mountain gate of the Hanging Temple was even harder to find, rarely seen by ordinary eyes.
Kujue, being a contemporary of the current Abbot, came and went freely. He passed directly through layer upon layer of Buddhist arrays, evaded tier after tier of defenses, and in a few steps set foot inside the Hanging Temple.
The core structure of the Hanging Temple was exactly as its name suggested — a Buddhist temple suspended in mid-air.
Only it was incomparably massive, rising who knew how many thousand zhang high, spanning some dozens of li across. A person standing at its base would have no way of seeing its edge. If the monks had not concealed it, people in the Northern Region might have been able to see this temple with the naked eye.
And surrounding this main hanging temple, precious pagodas floated in the air like a forest.
In this sacred ground of the Eastern Buddhist Sect, every precious temple hung suspended in the air — a truly wondrous sight.
Yet what truly amazed the discerning eye was this contrast — throughout the entire sacred ground of the Eastern Buddhist Sect, every floating pagoda could be felt emanating fluctuations from formations. The reason they could hang in the air owed entirely to the monks' magical power and divine abilities.
Only that one true Hanging Temple at the very center had not a single trace of formation fluctuation throughout its entire body!
In other words, such a huge and majestic temple hung in the air relying entirely on its own nature. What a spectacle!
The construction materials of this temple were all made from extremely precious Suspension Stones.
When the sect was first established, it was said that every Suspension Stone in the world had been used up to build this temple.
There was only this one in the entire world, and no other.
Kujue passed directly into the main temple without greeting anyone, sticking close to the edges the entire way, looking particularly furtive.
"Kujue!" suddenly a shout rang out.
The voice was as resounding as a great bronze bell, so powerful it made one's ears ring.
The monks passing by all pretended not to hear, but their unconsciously quickened steps betrayed their unease.
Kujue looked annoyed as he picked at his ear and turned back: "Calling me like it's spring or something?"
The one who had stopped Kujue was also an old monk.
But compared to the yellow-faced old monk Kujue, he was even thinner — so thin he was practically skin and bones.
He looked like a skeleton, a truly unsettling sight.
Hearing Kujue's response, he glared, making him look even more frightening: "With so many disciples watching, how can you be so utterly undisciplined?"
This gaunt, withered old man seemed to have boundless strength hidden within, every word sounding as if he were putting his entire being into a roar.
"You're getting more and more ridiculous, Kubing!" Kujue put on an angry expression: "You wouldn't dare challenge me to a private bout, would you?"
This old monk, thin to the point of being skin and bones, turned out to be none other than Kubing, Head Abbot of the Dragon-Subduing Hall, renowned as the most powerful among all the Hall Heads.
Yet facing Kujue, his strength had nowhere to go. He certainly couldn't start an "internal feud" in front of all these disciples?
He shot a fierce glare left and right, scaring the monks on this floor into quickly dispersing.
Then he continued persuading — still at a "shouting" volume: "You're well advanced in years, how can you keep carrying on like this without any decorum?"
"You're no spring chicken yourself!" Kujue squinted at him sideways: "People who don't know any better might think our Hanging Temple is so destitute that we're starving our monks — skinny as ghosts, are you being starved to death?"
Kubing was left speechless by his retort, only muttering in a "shout": "Abbot Senior Brother has summoned you to see him!"
"The Abbot Senior Brother's powers are unmatched — does he really need you as a messenger? So meddlesome!" Kujue looked thoroughly displeased.
By now the other monks had all dispersed.
Kubing finally couldn't hold back and roared: "Then stop pretending you can't hear the Abbot Senior Brother's 'heart-voice'! Even when it's sent directly into your mind, you still claim you're hard of hearing and can't make it out???"
"What's with the temper? A Buddhist temple is supposed to be a peaceful place!"
Kubing fell silent, only grinding his teeth audibly.
"Alas." Kujue sighed once more: "Your teeth really are in good shape."
"Kujue." Kubing took several deep breaths, then spoke in a booming but as gentle as possible voice: "It's been many years since we last sparred. Why not make it today instead of some other day?"
"Enough, enough — old bones and aching joints, and you still want to move around? Be careful you don't sprain something!" Seeing that Kubing was genuinely getting worked up, Kujue patted his behind and started walking: "Since the Abbot Senior Brother can't do without me, I'll go see what he wants."
"Hey, why are you following me?"
"The Dragon-Subduing Hall has nothing better to do?"
"If you don't want to handle it, I'll help you manage it!"
But no matter what Kujue said from that point on, Kubing simply followed in silence.
When Kujue tried to turn, Kubing blocked his path.
Realizing he truly couldn't avoid it, Kujue had no choice but to head toward the Abbot's meditation chamber.
"I'm going in."
"I'm really going in."
"Could you please stop following?"
"The Abbot Senior Brother has important business with me! You're merely the Head Abbot of the Dragon-Subduing Hall..."
...
Kubing ultimately followed Kujue into the Abbot's meditation chamber.
Kuming was a stout, round-faced monk with a sorrowful expression, built two or three times as sturdy as Kujue and Kubing combined.
Especially compared to the yellow-faced old monk Kujue and the sickly, gaunt Kubing, he looked much younger — perhaps only in his forties.
But his face was perpetually clouded with sorrow, as though he were suffering constant injustice at every moment, and even the two white eyebrows that spoke of his years hung drooplessly without any spirit.
"Junior Brother Kujue." Kuming said with great worry: "How went your wandering?"
"Rest assured, Senior Brother!" Kujue's face instantly lit up: "I've taken on another extraordinary disciple! The fate that Master once divined for me — it must be fulfilled in this one. At the next Centennial Grand Tournament, I'll make those bald donkeys from Mount Sumeru look like fools!"
A monk calling others bald donkeys — what was wrong with these people...
Kuming's face grew even more troubled, and even his bald head seemed unable to shake the cloud of worry.
It was Kubing who suddenly chimed in from the side, "shouting": "'Extraordinary disciple' isn't necessary! Our Hanging Temple has plenty of talented disciples among the Kong and Jie generations. It's just the Jing generation that's short on numbers. Several Head Abbots are occupied, so we need you to take on a disciple to fill the count."
"What do you mean, 'fill the count'!" Kujue jumped high: "When I, Kujue, take a disciple, I accept none but the most extraordinary! How can this just be about filling numbers?"
Kubing glared and was about to say something.
Kuming spoke first: "Junior Brother Kujue, when will this 'extraordinary disciple' of yours be brought into the sect? After all, time is rather tight."
"No rush, Senior Brother." Kujue said solemnly: "Although my disciple begged with tears and snot to enter the sect early, the more eager he is, the more I must temper his character. After all, sharpening the blade doesn't delay the chopping of wood, haste makes waste, good things never come easily, and a sharp sword comes from constant grinding..."
"Enough!" Kubing shouted: "So you haven't found one yet?"
"Hmph, what do you know!" Kujue sneered: "A summer insect can't speak of winter's candied hawthorn!"
With that, he flapped his tattered hemp sleeve and swept out.
Being rude to him was one thing, but doing so right in front of the Abbot — even Kubing was genuinely annoyed: "Abbot Senior Brother, look at this fellow! How was his temperament raised — utterly without manners!"
"Alas."
Kuming let out a sigh heavy with worry: "Kujue entered the sect three years before you. Why is it that I never hear you call him Senior Brother?"
Kubing froze.