389: Chapter 47 Life and Death, Prosperity and Decline_1 389: Chapter 47 Life and Death, Prosperity and Decline_1 The Hanging Monastery itself is a sect akin to a Buddhist realm, filled not only with practitioners but also regions replete with the lives of the faithful.
And responsible for maintaining order, production, and sheltering the believers are the various temples scattered across the land, serving much like the official bureaus.
At this ti, on an unnad small mountain within the domain.
An old and a young monk, both bald, sat side by side — ditating in the moonlight.
However, one head was clean and shiny, while the other was sowhat dirty, not quite as pleasant to behold.
Moreover, both monks’ eyes were wide open, devoid of any trace of tranquility or devotion to Buddhism.
The older monk had a withered yellow face; naturally, he was Monk Ku Jue.
Those who knew him were aware that he rarely stayed at the main temple of the Hanging Monastery.
Instead, he would often wander about, disappearing for years at a ti.
And whenever he returned, a small temple he had haphazardly set up on this unnad mountain was where he commonly rested.
“Ah,” after a long silence, Monk Ku Jue sighed, “I wonder how your fellow disciple Jing Shen is faring in Linzi.”
The younger monk, Jing Li, spoke in a muffled voice, “Linzi is not a place blessed with good karma; brother disciple must be suffering amidst those enchanting skeletons.”
Monk Ku Jue coughed, “Indeed!
Your brother disciple Jing Shen may have wisdom, but his fortune surely can’t compare to yours!”
Monk Jing Li sat on the ground next to his master atop the small mountain, without even a clean mat, but the wind through his robes was quite refreshing, and he spoke cheerfully, “Master, stop testing and bring the brother disciple back soon, so we all can enjoy our blessings!”
“…” The old monk with the yellow face shalessly said, “That still depends on Yuan Law, the timing is not right yet.
When the ti cos, and he realizes the error of his ways, then I can properly bring him back to the sect.”
Monk Jing Li sighed sympathetically, “Brother disciple really is pitiable.
When will his mont co?”
“That is a matter of fate,” Monk Ku Jue shook his head solemnly, “Buddha said, ‘It cannot be told!'”
Monk Jing Li closed his mouth with an innocent look, like soone determined to keep a secret.
Looking at his naive disciple, Monk 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 turned a bit strange.
Monk Ku Jue asked irritably, “What’s wrong?”
Monk Jing Li said hesitantly, “Brother Jinghai said that there was no such person as disciple Jing E, that you made it all up.”
Monk Ku Jue’s eyes widened, “Nonsense!
Your brother disciple Jing E’s worldly na was Zuo Guanglie, born into the prestigious Zuo Family of Chuguo.
He was exceedingly imposing when he was alive; how could that be false?”
“Um,” said Monk Jing Li, “Brother Jinghai said you never taught Zuo Guanglie anything.
He might have been impressive, but that had nothing to do with you.”
Monk Ku Jue was about to get angry when he thought twice and cald down, asking, “What else did he say?”
Monk Jing Li scratched his bald head, feeling uneasy but not daring to lie to his master, “Brother Jinghai also said that you insisted on taking Zuo Guanglie as a disciple, gave him a religious na, and went to block his door.
In response, Zuo Guanglie called a bunch of powerful n, and you nearly lost your life in Chuguo!
He said you later fled in disgrace…”
“He knows nothing!” Monk Ku Jue stood up abruptly, furious, his tattered robes flapping in the moonlight.
Monk Jing Li shrank his neck, “He said it was Uncle Ku Bing who told him.”
“Ku Bing knows nothing!” Monk Ku Jue continued his rant.
“The abbot said…”
“The abbot knows a… the abbot knows only a little bit!”
Monk Jing Li finished his sentence, still with a retracted neck, “The abbot said that if I hear the master cursing, I should block my ears.”
Monk Ku Jue squinted at him, “Whose words do you heed?”
“I listen to whoever is beside at the mont.”
Monk Ku Jue nodded, “You have wisdom.”
Then he suddenly sighed again, “If Jing E were not the disciple fated for , how could I have found your brother disciple Jing Shen through the residual aura left by him long ago?”
When spoke of Jing E, genuine sadness filled the eyes of the old monk with the yellow face.
“His soul has indeed dispersed.
Otherwise, it would have been right for you brothers to et…”
Monk Jing Li bowed his head, feeling sowhat sorrowful, “So brother disciple Jing E did officially enter the school?”
“He didn’t even have a chance to go through the motions!” said Monk Ku Jue irritably, “But what do we practitioners care for worldly ceremonies?
It is your Uncle Ku Ming who is the stickler, always wanting things to have a na.
Otherwise…”
He didn’t finish the thought.
Could it really be possible to claim kinship on the battlefield in Qin Country, all in the na of a “yet-to-be-inducted” master?
Let’s not discuss whether that was a death wish; in fact, although he unilaterally confird through the Secret Technique that Zuo Guanglie was his destined disciple, Zuo Guanglie had never paid him any attention.
Even being pestered to the point of annoyance, he directly gathered a group of experts and relentlessly pursued him until he was driven out of Chuguo territory…
The small mountain remained silent for a long ti.
“What happened afterward?” Ku Jue suddenly asked.
He was asking about the continuation of the chat between Jing Li and the disciple Jinghai suffering from a bitter disease.
There’s an unspoken understanding between master and disciple.
Seeing that his master seed to be in slightly better spirits, Jing Li grinned and said, “By the ti he returned, we stuffed him into a sack and gave him a good thrashing with sticks.”
Ku Jue nodded and praised, “Good disciple!”
…
anwhile, at the old site of the Withering and Flourishing Temple, the sound of Buddha’s na in Jiang Wang’s ears beca clearer and clearer.
However, Zhongxuan Sheng and the fourteen others at his side could hear nothing at all.
Jiang Wang’s hand on the sword gradually loosened.
He began to wander aimlessly, turning left at one mont, then right at another.
Zhongxuan Sheng and the fourteen didn’t understand the situation and dared not disturb him, so they simply followed closely behind.
The scene was exceedingly eerie.
At this mont, Jiang Wang felt as if so entity was calling out to him, beckoning him to co closer, to investigate, and he was rely walking in the direction of that call.
But his consciousness was actually very clear, he was thinking, yet he was unaware of his body’s movents.
If he hadn’t misheard, that chanting of the Buddha’s na was “Amitābha.”
After Monk Ku Jue ca to his door and insisted on taking him as a disciple, Jiang Wang had indeed cramd quite a bit of Buddhist knowledge for the sake of knowing both himself and his enemy.
An esteed figure like “Amitābha” was certainly not ignored by him.
According to the Mahayana scriptures, in the distant past, Amitābha established the Western Pure Land, extensively liberating boundless sentient beings.
Buddhist disciples spend their lives in arduous practice, mostly in the hope of entering the Pure Land, aiming for rebirth in bliss, which illustrates the reverence for this Buddha.
The sound was vague and ethereal, distant yet increasingly grand as it reached his ears.
Like the sound of a great bell, it resonated deeply, shaking his body and soul.
At such a ti, for so reason, Jiang Yan also kept silent.
Jiang Wang walked among the ruins, oblivious of his own actions.
At so point, he began to feel a faint disgust towards himself, feeling that he had committed many sins.
The sin of killing took the forefront.
The faces of those he had killed, of those who had died because of him, each passed before his eyes.
“We were brothers.
Why…
why couldn’t you forgive …
just once?” It was Fang Pengju.
“You all…
seem to really hate …” It was Hu Shaong.
“All matters are settled, so as per our agreent.
Jiang Wang!
I’ve co to kill you!” It was Xizi Chu.
…
“When it’s the era of white bones, I will treat you well.” It was the one with the snake-bone face.
“Whose tiger cub wants to pluck an old general’s head!” It was Ji Cheng!
…
“So, thank you.” It was Xu Fang.
…
And there were other shapes, vague and indistinct, swaying before him, also appearing as if in a trance.
Countless faces drew near, countless mouths opened.
Those intimate and noisy voices all at once rged into one phrase—
“You wished to make your mark…
but what had the living done to deserve this?”
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