Two weeks later, Chen Ping’an’s group passed by a high mountain with a steep, eyebrow-like silhouette. After entering its territory, they encountered two groups of people within a mere incense stick’s worth of mountain path. One group, numbering over a dozen, exuded an air of wealth and nobility, mostly from official backgrounds, with several attendants and guards, all bearing standard-issue long sabers. There were men, women, old, and young among them. The other group carried the air of the Jianghu, totaling six individuals. Four men, around fifty years of age, breathed steadily and moved silently, undoubtedly top-tier martial artists in the Green Luan Kingdom’s Jianghu. Leading them was a hook-nosed old man with sharp eyes, accompanied by a round-faced girl. Though not particularly beautiful, she possessed a pair of bright, intelligent eyes that sparkled with life.

Both groups were heading up the mountain. Earlier, Chen Ping’an had approached the officials and inquired about the local customs and lore. Through their introduction, Chen Ping’an learned that there was a Golden Cassia Monastery atop Mount Qingyao. Immortal cultivators practiced within the monastery, but it was often closed to guests throughout the year. Last winter, the monastery had a woodcutter spread the word that they were preparing to accept nine disciples, regardless of background, only looking for those with the right fate. Therefore, recently, no less than three hundred people had been carrying their young sons and daughters, or immature children, flocking to Mount Qingyao in droves.

Chen Ping’an, still concerned about the True Martial Sword and short saber currently stored at the Grand Commandant’s manor, was unwilling to join the commotion. Zhang Shanfeng and Xu Yuanxia, having traveled extensively in recent years, especially after witnessing the Water and Land Dharma Assembly in the Green Luan Kingdom and the Luo Tian Grand Ritual in the Celebration Mountain Kingdom, were not interested in a sect opening its doors on a mere mountaintop. As for whether the Daoists of the Golden Cassia Monastery were genuine immortals or false sages, the group was even less concerned.

Within an ordinary kingdom of Treasure Bottle Continent, a Golden Core Earth Immortal was already an unattainable existence. After all, kingdoms like the Great Li Dynasty, with its hidden dragons and crouching tigers, were rare even in the entire Vast Sky World.

As the Great Li Song clan’s iron cavalry marched to not far north of the Lake Viewing Academy, besides the orthodox name given by the academy, in fact, Great Li was equal to encompassing half the state’s land. Great Li was regarded as the world’s top ten dynasty’s reputation, increasingly heated.

Upon encountering the second group, the round-faced girl’s surprise and amazement never ceased. A young man in white robes, carrying a bamboo chest and a vermilion wine pot at his waist, a small charcoal girl riding on the back of a yellow ox, bamboo knives and bamboo swords suspended at her waist, a stunning woman carrying a long sword on her back… along with a young Daoist and a bearded saber-wielding warrior, truly a bizarre traveling group. Could this be the wild mountain cultivators that Grandpa had once spoken of?

Fortunately, the black-clad old man, although clearly not someone to be trifled with, was still willing to abide by the old Jianghu rules as a seasoned veteran. He quickly stopped the girl’s unbridled scrutiny. Not only that, but he also nodded to Chen Ping’an as a greeting, perhaps as an apology on behalf of his junior.

Chen Ping’an returned the gesture with a smile and a cupped-fist salute.

In the Jianghu, such fleeting encounters were common. However, the two groups, destined to remain strangers, were brought together again by a sudden downpour.

The rare gale and torrential rain made the mountain path exceptionally muddy and difficult to traverse. The spring chill was already bone-piercing, and the mountain wind howled. This rain was also extremely cold and damp. Pei Qian was stunned by the hailstones, which stung her face. Soon, her lips turned blue, and her whole body trembled. This was after Pei Qian had practiced martial arts. Before that, this short spell of wind and rain would have been enough to make her fall ill.

Chen Ping’an instructed Zhu Lian to scout ahead for a place to take shelter from the rain. The hunchbacked old man moved like a monkey, darting between trees and cliffs. He soon returned and said that there was a naturally formed large stone cave not far ahead, where a group had already settled down and lit a fire to keep warm. Chen Ping’an carried Pei Qian on his back, raised the paulownia leaf umbrella he had brought from Lotus Flower Blessed Land, and took out a raincoat to minimize the impact of the mountain wind and rain on Pei Qian.

Zhang Shanfeng could barely open his eyes and walked beside Chen Ping’an, loudly reminding him, “This heavy rain is strange.”

Chen Ping’an nodded and took out a yellow paper talisman of relatively ordinary material, the lowest-ranked Yang Energy Lantern Lighting Talisman from the “Dharmic Texts”. Whenever encountering mountains and rivers, dilapidated temples, or mass graves, Chen Ping’an would use this talisman to clear the way, checking the concentration of Yin and evil energies in the area. Chen Ping’an pinched the talisman between two fingers, shook it gently, and poured his true energy into it. It instantly ignited. Fortunately, the burning speed of this Lantern Lighting Talisman was not fast, much less than the time he ventured alone into the City God Temple of Colorful Garment Kingdom. Chen Ping’an was cautious and did not extinguish the talisman, using it to clear the path, lest there be traps ahead.

The mountain pass battle had not only created a feud with a Golden Core Earth Immortal but might have also attracted the covetous eyes of that group of rogue cultivators. He had to be careful.

Furthermore, Chen Ping’an asked the yellow earth ox if it knew of any great demons acting as mountain overlords in this area. Although the ox had not yet transformed into human form, it could speak human language. It shook its head and said, “In the five hundred years since I gained sentience, not counting the recent two hundred years of dormancy underground, I have never heard of any mountain spirits or ghosts causing trouble in the Green Luan Kingdom. However, three hundred years ago, at a Buddhist temple three hundred miles away from here, I saw a scene of monks expounding the Dharma and osmanthus blossoms falling like rain, which was very magical. At that time, it was rumored that the golden osmanthus flowers that covered the temple grounds came from the osmanthus trees on Mount Qingyao.”

Xu Yuanxia reached out and held her bamboo hat and laughed loudly, “Zhang Shanfeng and I have already been to that Buddhist temple. It’s too famous, we had to go. However, apart from the inscriptions on the walls, we didn’t see anything special. The sites of several famous Buddhist cases have long been fenced off, and tourists are not allowed to visit. The two of us wandered around for a long time and witnessed a scene that I wrote in my travelogue. In the twilight, two young monks who were responsible for carrying the merit box, probably feeling that the number of tourists were sparse, and there was no outsider, the two young monks tiptoed, bent down and reached out to grab money randomly. They grabbed for a long time, and the young monk who first touched a silver coin laughed loudly. The two of them carried the merit box on their shoulders, and the young monk who took out the silver coin walked ahead. Zhang Shanfeng and I were amused. It turned out that the merit box had to be moved to the back, and there was a long flight of stairs to walk, so the one in the front naturally had the advantage, and the one carrying the burden behind suffered.”

Chen Ping’an did not know much about Buddhism. Buddhism was not prosperous in Treasure Bottle Continent, and it could even be said that it had the least incense among the nine continents. As a result, Chen Ping’an often went to the Heart Image Temple adjacent to the Number One Scholar Lane in Lotus Flower Blessed Land, where he came into contact with some Buddhist teachings. He asked in confusion, “Isn’t it said that monks don’t touch money with their hands?”
Zhang Shanfeng chuckled, “What rule under Heaven is truly unshakeable?”

Xu Yuanxia playfully teased, “Those temple visits weren’t for naught; that sounds quite Zen-like.”

The yellow ox rarely spoke unless directly addressed.

It fell silent again, though it vividly remembered the ancient Buddhist temple built at the foot of a mountain. At the time, already at the Seascape Realm, it stood among the trees at the mountain’s peak, gazing down at the temple. Wary of approaching too closely to human incense, fearing both disturbing mortals and attracting the displeasure of celestial beings, it could only distantly observe a young monk in a snow-white kasaya. Standing beneath the eaves where iron bells hung, he extended his hand, and golden osmanthus blossoms fell like rain into his palm.

While Chen Pingan, Zhang Shanfeng, and Xu Yuanxia joked and chatted, their pace was swift. He tucked the remaining half of the Lamp-Lighting Talisman into his sleeve. They had arrived at the cave Zhu Lian had discovered—quite spacious, like a village ancestral hall, capable of sheltering thirty or forty people.

As they journeyed, the Yang Energy Lamp-Lighting Talisman burned steadily, and the farther they strayed from the mountain path, the slower it burned. This veritable yin rain was most likely the work of qi refiners targeting the Golden Laurel Observatory’s grand disciple recruitment.

The first to arrive at the grotto were all women, seven or eight in number, ranging from a white-haired crone to a maiden barely past her teens. Battered by the heavy rain, their veils, originally intended to conceal their faces, had become cumbersome. Along with their bamboo hats, umbrellas, and raincoats, they were placed at their feet. They were currently warming themselves by a fire. Upon seeing Chen Pingan and his companions, their gazes were cold. Several shifted closer to the fire, clearly unwilling to interact with Chen Pingan and his group.

Chen Pingan couldn’t help but glance at Zhu Lian, who wore a “憨厚” (simple and honest) smile.

These women, all disciples of the same sect, must have entered the grotto as soon as the rain started, having gathered dry branches early. Now, with fierce winds raging outside the grotto, strong enough to lift roofs, and torrential rain pouring down, Chen Pingan and his group could only stare helplessly. Zhang Shanfeng, as a qi refiner, while not of a high realm, could easily conjure a fire using basic techniques. However, displaying one’s supernatural abilities casually while traveling was a major taboo for cultivators.

Chen Pingan helped Pei Qian set up her cowhide tent, then took out her clean clothes from the bamboo chest, instructing Sui Youbian to help Pei Qian change.

As soon as Pei Qian skipped happily out of the tent, the group of Jianghu (martial arts world) travelers they had encountered earlier returned, looking disheveled, seeking shelter in the grotto.

This rain was so heavy that even heroes of the Jianghu had to bow their heads.

Chen Pingan saw the hook-nosed old man and took the initiative to nod in greeting. The latter also nodded in acknowledgement.

Since Chen Pingan was so courteous, Zhu Lian and the others shifted their positions, silently clearing a space.

The round-faced girl, resembling a drowned chicken, was immediately surrounded by her entourage, shielding her from prying eyes, as the rain-soaked clothes revealed her figure.

After the Jianghu group settled down, the round-faced girl began to size up the women, her eyes lighting up. “You wouldn’t happen to be ladies from the Rouge Pavilion of the Cloud Canopy Kingdom, would you?”

Earlier, the girl had only glanced at Chen Pingan a few times, and the black-robed old man had advised her to refrain. But this time, the girl’s words were disrespectful, almost provocative, yet the old man remained with his eyes closed, as if he had not heard a thing.

Over there, a young woman with sharp features turned her head, scolding, “Impudent!”

The round-faced girl was not intimidated at all, smiling mischievously as she retorted, “Pray tell, how am I being impudent, miss?”

These women were indeed from the Rouge Pavilion, a top Jianghu sect in the Cloud Canopy Kingdom. Among them, the youngest, a teenage maiden with a sharp, oval chin and delicate features, stared wide-eyed, curiously studying the audacious peer. Few dared to provoke the Rouge Pavilion in such a manner within the Cloud Canopy Kingdom. So, perhaps she was from a major sect in the Azure Phoenix Kingdom or the Verdant Mountain Kingdom?

The sharp-chinned girl instinctively rubbed the inscription on a delicate dagger at her waist with her thumb. The weathered bamboo sheath was smooth and pleasing, engraved with the characters “蕞爾” (insignificant).

Her fellow disciple, the young woman, wore a pair of mandarin duck knives at her waist, now gripping the hilts, her face as cold as ice, she said in a low voice, “Then, shall we spar and test our mettle?”

“Sparring” was a relatively elegant form of exchange among martial artists, a sort of intellectual duel, less likely to draw blood. After all, if the loser shed blood, it would be an inglorious victory, not something to boast about.

The round-faced girl made a face at the woman. “Relying on your age, having learned a few more decades of martial arts, what kind of heroine is that, bullying the younger generation?”

The young woman was quite irritated. She was not even thirty yet; what did she mean by “a few more decades of martial arts”?

The white-haired crone, with a dignified air, whispered to the woman beside her, “Why bicker with a junior? If one’s qi cultivation is lacking, one’s martial achievements will not be significant.”

The young woman clearly held the crone in high esteem, immediately bowing her head. “I understand.”

Not far away, the round-faced girl chuckled charmingly, “That old granny is the one who knows proper etiquette.”

In reality, it was another “kind” remark that was difficult to stomach.

Chen Pingan, remaining neutral, felt that this round-faced girl’s ability to stab others in the heart with her words was truly formidable.

The crone, unbothered by such impertinence, shifted her gaze, looking at the hook-nosed old man. “Could you be Chief Zhu of the Great Marsh Gang?”

The black-robed old man opened his eyes, laughing. “I haven’t stepped out in nearly thirty years; are there still people who know my name?”

The crone smiled slightly. “Even thirty years from now, the Jianghu will remember Chief Zhu’s prestige.”

After the crone revealed his identity, the Rouge Pavilion women’s expressions changed slightly.

The Great Marsh Gang’s old devil, Zhu Fengxian, was notorious. Thirty years ago, he traveled far and wide in a scarlet carriage, dominating the martial world of several kingdoms, spilling countless blood. At least eighty righteous individuals died at his hands. Zhu Fengxian also had eight disciples, known as the Eight Hells, who were influential in the Azure Phoenix Kingdom. However, thirty years ago, the Great Marsh Gang suffered heavy losses. Zhu Fengxian began seclusion, half of his eight disciples died, and most of the original five or six thousand gang members scattered. In the past thirty years, the once-dominant leader in the Azure Phoenix Kingdom had fallen into silent obscurity.

Just as Zhu Fengxian was about to close his eyes and cultivate his qi again, the crone, who had always been known for her grace, suddenly said, “However, times have changed. Compared to thirty years ago, the Jianghu waters are deeper. When you’re not in your own territory, it’s best to offer more wine and less posturing, kowtow more and talk less.”
The round-faced girl’s eyes widened abruptly, as if she’d heard the funniest joke in the world. She stared intently at the white-haired old crone, wondering if the old woman had lost her mind.

Zhu Fengxian said calmly, “If I remember correctly, your Rouge Convent has been nothing more than a second-rate sect in Yunxiao Kingdom since its founding ancestor, over two hundred years ago, leading a miserable existence. What, in these last thirty years, have you ladies found someone powerful to back you up?”

Chen Ping’an felt a headache coming on. How could a simple rain shelter turn into such a bizarre entanglement of Jianghu grievances? Earlier, Pei Qian had complained about why, after leaving Bee Tail Ferry, they had traveled so far and only encountered a Yellow Earth Ox, and then never stumbled upon any more spirits or demons.

Pei Qian was now listening attentively. This was the Jianghu! She would be walking this path herself one day, so she needed to watch and learn.

Zhu Lian nodded to himself in agreement. The surname Zhu’s words were certainly thought-provoking.

The old crone sneered, “If there are no surprises, Old Helper Zhu intends to send this little girl to the Golden Laurel Temple to cultivate immortal arts, correct? But does Old Helper Zhu know that the Golden Laurel Temple’s abbot is an old acquaintance of our Rouge Convent? Of the nine disciples to be accepted, our Rouge Convent has already secured one spot, and it was that old immortal who took the initiative to offer it. So this trip up the mountain is just a formality. That being said, if the sharp-tongued little girl by Old Helper Zhu’s side does indeed possess some talent for cultivation, and if the abbot happens to take a liking to her, she might have a chance to call our Qingcheng ‘Senior Sister’.”

The oval-faced girl from the Rouge Convent blushed with shyness.

The round-faced girl looked at her and said playfully, “You’re called Qingcheng (Morning City)? I’m called Wanshang (Evening).”

Zhu Fengxian smiled slightly. “The abbot of Golden Laurel Temple is a rare true immortal. That’s why I’m willing to return to the Jianghu for this opening of his doors to disciples. But the Azure Luan Kingdom doesn’t just have the Golden Laurel Temple as an immortal abode. I can kill you all first, then take my granddaughter to seek immortality elsewhere, or simply leave this place and have my Great Swamp Gang disciples secretly protect the girls you’re escorting up the mountain, so they can cultivate in peace.”

The old crone’s face darkened. She sneered, “Seek immortality elsewhere, you make it sound so easy! Why does the Golden Laurel Temple old immortal set an age limit? Are you, Zhu Fengxian, unaware? If you delay for another two or three years, your granddaughter can forget about cultivating immortality! Even if they let her into an immortal abode out of respect for the Great Swamp Gang’s reputation, she’ll probably only be able to work as a servant girl. The path of immortal cultivation is merciless, do I need to teach you, Zhu Fengxian, that lesson?”

Zhu Fengxian’s face became grim.

Even the seemingly “naive” round-faced girl’s face darkened.

She was not a pure martial artist, but a third-realm Qi cultivator.

Although the old crone was too blind to see it, the girl herself knew very well that on the path of cultivation, the more one delays in their youth, even by two or three years, the more it might take decades to make up for it after becoming a middle-fifth realm Qi cultivator.

According to her grandfather Zhu Fengxian and the Great Swamp Gang’s strategist, she was a cultivation prodigy only seen once in a century. Unfortunately, the Great Swamp Gang’s martial arts vault only had one immortal manual to help her reach the middle-fifth realm, of considerable quality, but it lacked the method to become an earth immortal who could feast on clouds, drink dew, and ride the wind for tens of thousands of miles. The Taoist book came from a once-prosperous immortal family in the Azure Luan Kingdom whose incense had died out, and it did not record how to achieve this, implying it was only the cultivation method for inner disciples. Only by becoming a direct disciple could one learn the mountain’s secret techniques and the ancestral hall’s inheritance.

Pei Qian squatted beside Chen Ping’an, listening with great interest. She thought this kind of verbal sparring was the most interesting thing, even more exciting than watching women scratching each other in the streets of Nanyuan Kingdom’s capital when she was a child.

Chen Ping’an was worried. Neither side seemed like pushovers, and he feared they would start fighting at the slightest disagreement. The stone cave was so small, there was nowhere to hide. Swords and sabers had no eyes. Did he need to speak up now and suggest the Great Swamp Gang and the Rouge Convent fight outside?

Chen Ping’an sighed, stood up, walked straight through the space between the two groups, went to the entrance of the stone cave, pinched the half-burned Lamp-Igniting Talisman hidden in his sleeve between his fingers, and burned it again. A small golden flame, even in such a large storm, still swayed gently like grass in a gentle spring breeze. Then Chen Ping’an turned his head and smiled, “This rain is strange, and the extraordinary Yin energy has been continuous from the beginning until now. It’s very likely the work of a hidden Qi cultivator ghost. It seems the immortals of Golden Laurel Temple have not yet intervened, so you must be careful on your way to Golden Laurel Temple this time. Jianghu grudges can be put aside for now. After all, the path of cultivation is close at hand for both young ladies, and that is more important. This climb is almost like walking on the path of cultivation.”

Chen Ping’an looked at the two girls, one at a time, and said slowly, “Why make the path of cultivation under your feet narrower? If you can’t stand each other, the Great Dao is so wide, just walk your own paths.”

Zhu Fengxian nodded with a smile. “What this young gentleman says is very true. I hope to have the opportunity to have you as a guest at my Great Swamp Gang in the future. Zhu will definitely prepare a grand welcoming feast.”

Although these were just polite words, these polite words spoken by the old devil Zhu Fengxian himself were worth a lot of real money in the Azure Luan Kingdom’s Jianghu.

The white-haired old crone glanced at the yellow paper talisman in Chen Ping’an’s hand and said with a smile, “Young gentleman’s golden words will certainly be remembered by our Qingcheng.”

The oval-faced girl smiled sweetly at Chen Ping’an.

The Yang Qi Lamp-Igniting Talisman in Chen Ping’an’s fingertips had already burned out, and the golden flame extinguished with it. Chen Ping’an rubbed his fingertips and laughed. “Someone once said, ‘In the Jianghu, fists prevail. Once you become an immortal, don’t use your magic.'”

The round-faced girl asked with a smile, “May I ask, which expert said that?”

Chen Ping’an replied, “A friend.”

The round-faced girl who called herself “Evening” gave a thumbs up and exclaimed, “I’m impressed!”

The oval-faced girl named “Morning City” was curious about the young man’s identity.

Zhu Fengxian and the Rouge Convent’s old crone exchanged a look. They were both old foxes of the Jianghu, and understood each other without words. This little conflict was nothing compared to the cultivation of their respective juniors. Even if they harbored resentment, both sides needed to avoid infringing on the other before successfully entering the Golden Laurel Temple, and perhaps even cooperate sincerely and weather the storm together if they encountered danger along the way.

Chen Ping’an turned his head and looked outside.

The rain was still raging.

He wondered what season it was in Lotus Flower Blessed Land now?
Who amongst the Ten Under Heaven currently held those esteemed positions? Surely the Imperial Advisor Zhong Qiu, the Lake Mountain Sect Master Yu Zhenyi, and the Landowner of the Bird Perch Peak Lu Fang were among them.

Were the doors of the house in that alley now adorned with fresh door gods and spring couplets?

Chen Ping’an sighed softly.

Having taken off the bamboo case, Chen Ping’an now carried only the semi-immortal weapon “Sword Immortal” on his back, which the Fu family of Old Dragon City had compensated him with, through the guise of Fan Junmao.

Chen Ping’an looked up at the dark, rain-swept sky.

In his youthful ignorance, he remembered a fellow wearing a straw hat and leading a donkey who “bragged” that his swordsmanship was so refined that not a drop of rain could penetrate it.

Now, even he, Chen Ping’an, could achieve that.

But when would he truly become a Sword Immortal?

He found it difficult to even draw the “Sword Immortal” on his back, and the thought of it made him take down the gourd of nurturing sword, and gulp down a large mouthful of wine.

Only to realize that the wine inside wasn’t Osmanthus Wine or Water Well Immortal Brew, but the medicinal wine refined by Fan Junmao. Chen Ping’an immediately shivered, his face flushed red, and he coughed incessantly. He had no choice but to cover his mouth with the back of his hand, turn around, and walk towards Pei Qian with a hint of apology.

His immortal aura vanished in an instant.

White Water Temple was located in the south-central part of the Azure Luan Kingdom. A spring within the temple bubbled up from the ground, like rolling pearls, making it the best for brewing tea. As a result, scholars and literati from the Cloud Soar and Celebration Mountain Kingdoms often came here specifically to draw spring water for tea. The White Water Temple’s incense flourished, which was only natural. It was thus known alongside the North Mountain Temple of the capital. However, compared to the North Mountain Temple’s monks’ activity in the court and among the people, the White Water Temple’s monks seemed to dislike showing their faces. Moreover, in the recent century, no outstanding Zen master had emerged, inevitably giving the impression of living off past glory.

Therefore, in this grand Buddhist-Taoist debate, the North Mountain Temple was the most prominent, while the White Water Temple, with its thousand-year history, had not yet had a single monk announce their intention to attend the grand meeting that would determine the order of the three teachings.

Recently, the spring rains had been continuous, and the temples of the Azure Luan Kingdom stood amidst the misty rain. This evening, a young monk wearing a snow-white kasaya walked slowly within the White Water Temple.

The White Water Temple had been closed for nearly a month, much to the dismay of the faithful men and women.

The young monk had a cold expression. Old monks and young novices greeted him along the way, but the young monk in the conspicuous kasaya mostly ignored them, as everyone was accustomed to it.

The young monk came to the railing of a small pond with emerald-green water. This inconspicuous pond was known as Dragon Pool, because it was rumored that an ancient turtle lived in the small but unfathomably deep pond. It had been released by the monks at the time of the White Water Temple’s construction. Whenever the monks of White Water Temple lectured to profound effect, the old turtle would emerge from the water. This matter was recorded in detail in the official history of the Azure Luan Kingdom, and no one doubted it.

The young monk continued to stroll casually, walking along the corridor behind the Great Hero Hall, step by step upwards. Under the eaves hung strings of exquisite bells. As the young monk ascended the steps, little sprites called “Eaves Iron Horses” were born and lived within the bells. At this moment, they flew out of the bells, with a pair of transparent wings, and began to shake the wind chimes. The young monk seemed to dislike this peaceful atmosphere of tinkling sounds and quiet temple, and frowned.

The small and exquisite sprites immediately hid back inside the bells.

The young monk turned his head and overlooked a small square behind the Great Hero Hall, which was the site where “high monks preached the Dharma and celestial maidens scattered flowers” in the history of the White Water Temple. He remembered that many golden osmanthus seeds fell that day, and the preaching and listening monks sat in the piles of osmanthus seeds. The preaching monk was not accustomed to the fragrance and sneezed several times. The listeners took note, felt enlightened, and pondered many interpretations, which they all wrote on the stone tablets of the White Water Temple.

After walking up the steps, reaching the top, and going around the Sutra Repository, he went to the side of the abbot’s room, where a half-person-high yellow mud wall enclosed a small world, with a water well and stone table and stools beside it.

The young monk pushed open the bamboo and wooden fence door and walked to the well. The wellhead of the small well had been sealed for many years.

In the early years, a famous Buddhist case occurred here, which was said to have been heard even in the Central Earth Divine Continent. This was the reason why the White Water Temple had not produced any high monks in recent centuries but still stood tall. The White River Temple had been arguing about this case for hundreds of years, the major temples of the Azure Luan Kingdom argued, Buddhists and Taoists argued, and the scholars who studied Buddhism and Taoism throughout the ages also argued about it, causing a great uproar. There were as many as forty eminent monks and hermits from various places who had expressed their opinions on this case on the walls of the temple.

The White Water Temple’s collection of scriptures was rich, and the quality and completeness of the rare and fine editions was unparalleled in the Azure Luan Kingdom, but the young monk standing by the well hated that place the most and had never set foot in it.

Departing from the scriptures by a single word is demonic speech.

Covering the Buddha’s head with dung.

He sat on the wellhead, which was sealed and looked like a round stool. He had a question that he had been unable to figure out for years.

He remembered that the Buddhist scriptures said that when a future Arhat who would become a Buddha was threatened by a manifestation of the Heavenly Demon, the Arhat was greatly frightened and went to the Buddha. Then the Buddha gave him a righteous Dharma, and the Heavenly Demon was eliminated.

The young monk did not think deeply when he first read this, but one day he woke up in horror and fell into endless pain.

He had a fixation in his heart.

“Why is it that I, a small monk of a small temple, am confident that if I encounter a Heavenly Demon, I would not be so distraught, while an Arhat destined to become a Buddha, a disciple of the Buddha, would be so frightened and uneasy? What is the difference between this and an ordinary Confucian scholar who has never studied Buddhism? Where is the root of wisdom? Where is the learned Dharma? And where is the Dharma taught by the Buddha? How high and far can a Buddha who has become a Buddha in this way transmit the Dharma?”

The young monk pondered in confusion, sat alone by the well, and shed tears.

This young monk, who suddenly became enlightened in his youth, vaguely remembered that he had once beheaded a cat here, cut it in half with a single stroke, and threw it into the well.

The young monk had been taciturn for many years, but he worked diligently at the White Water Temple, so his hands and feet were calloused, and they would crack with frostbite in the winter, covered in blood.

He repeatedly patted the sealed wellhead, his palms gradually becoming bloody, yet he was completely unaware.
The young monk, his voice hoarse, choked with sobs, continued to beat the wellhead with his palm, the sound echoing with despair. “Wrong, wrong! You are wrong again! The Dharma resides within! I too was wrong! Zen cannot be spoken, to utter it is to err, but to remain silent is it not also an error? We are all wrong! How then can we be right…?”