The Suspended Heaven Temple itself was a sect akin to a Buddhist kingdom. Beyond its own cultivation grounds, its vast territories were largely places where the faithful lived.
The responsibility of maintaining order, production, and protecting the faithful fell to the various local temples, much like an ordinary government.
At this moment, on an unnamed hill within the territory, an old monk and a young monk sat side by side, meditating under the moonlight.
One head was clean and shiny, while the other was somewhat dirty and unkempt, not very aesthetically pleasing. Moreover, both monks had their eyes wide open, showing no intention of calming their minds to focus on the Buddha.
The older one, with a sallow and weathered face, was naturally the monk Ku Jue.
Those who knew him were aware that he had always been unwilling to stay at the main Suspended Heaven Temple. Instead, he would wander far and wide, often disappearing for long periods. Each time he returned to the temple, this small, makeshift shrine hastily built on this nameless hill was his most frequent resting place.
"Alas." After a long silence, Monk Ku Jue sighed. "I wonder how your junior brother Jing Shen is doing in Linzi."
The young monk, Jing Li, replied in a muffled voice, "Linzi isn't a place with much fortune. Junior brother must be suffering surrounded by those painted-skull temptations."
Monk Ku Jue coughed once. "Exactly! Though your junior brother Jing Shen has a wisdom root, his fortune is nothing compared to yours!"
Monk Jing Li, sitting on the bare ground of the small hill with his master—without even a clean cushion—felt the wind coolly blow through his monk's robes and said cheerfully, "Master, stop testing me. Hurry and bring junior brother back so we can all enjoy blessings together!"
"..." The old monk with the sallow face shamelessly replied, "That still depends on fate. The time hasn't come yet. Only when the time comes can he return from his wrong path, and only then can I properly bring him back to the mountain gate."
Monk Jing Li sighed sympathetically. "Poor junior brother. When will that time come?"
"That is heavenly secret," Ku Jue said with a solemn shake of his head. "The Buddha says: it cannot be spoken!"
Monk Jing Li obediently closed his mouth, looking innocent, as if he would definitely keep the secret.
Looking at this simple-minded disciple, Ku Jue couldn't help but sigh again.
"If only my poor disciple Jing E were still alive..."
The young Monk Jing Li's expression became a little strange.
Ku Jue asked irritably, "What's wrong with you?"
Monk Jing Li said somewhat timidly, "Brother Jing Hai said that I don't actually have any senior brother named Jing E. That was all made up by you."
Ku Jue's eyes widened. "Nonsense! Your senior brother Jing E's secular name was Zuo Guanglie. He was born into the most famous Zuo family in the State of Chu. While alive, he was incredibly imposing. How could that be false?"
"Uh," Monk Jing Li said, "Brother Jing Hai also said that you didn't teach Zuo Guanglie anything. He was indeed powerful, but it had nothing to do with you."
Ku Jue was about to fly into a rage, but thought for a moment and held back. He asked, "What else did he say?"
Monk Jing Li scratched his bald head, feeling apprehensive, but not daring to lie to his master. "Brother Jing Hai also said that you insisted on taking Zuo Guanglie as a disciple, gave him a dharma name, and went to block his door. But Zuo Guanglie gathered a bunch of strong fighters and nearly got you killed in the State of Chu! He said you later fled in embarrassment..."
"What the hell does he know!" Ku Jue leaped to his feet, furious, his tattered monk's robes rustling in the moonlight.
Jing Li shrank his neck. "He said it was Uncle Master Ku Bing who told him."
"Ku Bing knows what the hell!" Ku Jue continued to rage.
"Abbot said..."
"The Abbot knows what the... The Abbot only knows superficialities!"
Jing Li finished his sentence with his neck still shrunk. "Abbot said that if I heard Master cursing, I should cover my ears."
Ku Jue glared at him sideways. "Whose words do you follow?"
"Whoever is nearby."
Ku Jue nodded. "You have a wisdom root."
After saying this, he suddenly sighed again. "If Jing E wasn't my destined disciple, how could I have found your junior brother Jing Shen through the residual spiritual light he left behind in the afterlife?"
Speaking of Jing E, the old monk's eyes held genuine sorrow.
"The soul can no longer be gathered. Otherwise, I should have let you brothers meet..."
Jing Li lowered his eyebrows and eyelids, also feeling a bit sad. "So, senior brother Jing E did enter the sect?"
"Didn't even have time to go through the formalities!" Ku Jue said grumpily. "But we cultivators, why care about those worldly rituals? It was your rigid senior brother Ku Bing who insists on formalities for everything. Otherwise..."
Otherwise what, he didn't finish.
Could he really attack the State of Qin over life and death on the battlefield? Under the name of a "disciple who hadn't formally entered the sect"?
Leaving aside whether that was seeking death, in reality, although he had unilaterally determined through secret arts that Zuo Guanglie was his destined disciple, Zuo Guanglie had never paid him any attention. When annoyed by being pestered, he even assembled a group of experts and actively chased him out of Chu territory...
The small hill was silent for a long time.
"What happened later?" Ku Jue suddenly asked.
He was asking about the continuation of the conversation between Jing Li and Jing Hai, Ku Bing's disciple.
Master and disciple had their own unspoken understanding.
Seeing his master's mood seem to improve a bit, Jing Li grinned. "When he came back, I lured him into the Mo-Grinding Bag and beat him with a stick."
Ku Jue nodded approvingly. "Good disciple!"
...
Meanwhile, in the ruins of the Withered and Flourishing Courtyard, the Buddhist chant in Jiang Wang's ears grew clearer and clearer.
However, Chongxuan Sheng and Shisi beside him heard nothing at all.
Jiang Wang's hand, which had been resting on his sword, gradually relaxed. He began to walk aimlessly, turning left one moment, then right the next.
Chongxuan Sheng and Shisi, unsure of the situation, didn't dare to disturb him for the moment, so they could only follow closely by his side.
This scene was extremely strange.
At this moment, Jiang Wang only felt something calling to him, urging him to approach, to explore, and he was simply walking in the direction of that call.
But his consciousness was actually still quite clear. He was thinking, yet unaware of his body's movements.
If he hadn't misheard, that chant was "Amitabha."
After the incident where Monk Ku Jue of the Suspended Heaven Temple forcibly came to take him as a disciple, Jiang Wang had earnestly studied some knowledge about Buddhism to know his enemy.
He naturally wouldn't overlook something of such high status as "Amitabha."
According to the Mahayana Sutras, in the distant past kalpas, Amitabha established the Western Pure Land, saving boundless sentient beings.
Most Buddhist disciples spent their lives cultivating in order to enter the Pure Land, which was called rebirth in the Western Pure Land, showing the immense reverence for this Buddha.
The sound was faint and ethereal, yet when it reached his ears, it grew increasingly grand.
Like a great bell or gong, it shook his body and mind.
At such a time, for some reason, Jiang Yan also remained silent.
Jiang Wang walked through the broken walls and ruins, completely unaware himself.
From some unknown time, a faint sense of self-disgust had begun to grow within him. He felt that he had committed many sins.
Murderous sins were foremost.
Those he had killed, those who died because of him—face after face passed before his eyes.
"We were brothers. Why... why can't you forgive me... just once." That was Fang Pengju.
"You all... seem to hate me very much..." That was Hu Shaomeng.
"The matter is settled, as per our previous agreement. Jiang Wang! I have come to kill you!" That was Xi Zichu.
...
"When we reach the Age of White Bones, I will certainly treat you well." That was the Snake Bone Masker.
"Whose brave young son wishes to take the old general's head!" That was Ji Cheng.
...
"Is that so? Thank you." That was Xu Fang.
...
There were also some blurry, indistinct figures wavering and hazy before him.
Countless faces drew close, countless mouths opened.
The intense and clamorous voices vibrated, eventually converging into a single sentence—
"You wish to achieve great deeds... but what crime had we, the living, committed?"