Chapter Twenty-Six: The Enlightened Monk

Chapter Twenty-Six: The Monk Zhiguang

Fivefold Contest of Tiger’s Leap and Dragon’s Soar; The Battle of the Mysterious Blade and the Spirit Sword (Part Two)

Ye Hua hastened to say, “I would not dare! I have heard that within the Sutra Pavilion, the image of Maitreya descending to the world emits a sacred sound that those with shallow cultivation cannot withstand!”

Monk Zhiguang nodded. “That is indeed true. Within the Sutra Pavilion stands an image of Maitreya Buddha, yet it is not sculpted with legs crossed in meditation. Instead, he is seated with both legs naturally hanging down, feet touching the ground. This is called the ‘Maitreya Descending to the World’. In the great path of Buddhism, Sakyamuni is the present Buddha, while Maitreya is the Buddha of the future. The Sutra of Maitreya’s Ascension says Maitreya now resides in the Tusita Heaven; the Sutra of Maitreya’s Descent prophesies that, in the future, he will descend from Tusita to this world, become Buddha beneath the Dragon Flower tree, and succeed Sakyamuni. The image of ‘Maitreya Descending’ is modeled after this teaching.”

Having spoken, he walked slowly ahead, with Ye Hua following closely behind. At this hour, the ancient woods and mystical groves glistened emerald, the gentle sunlight filtering warmly through the dense branches, casting dappled, delightful shadows on the ground. Walking there with Monk Zhiguang, Ye Hua was overcome by an indescribable sense of peace and joy.

Zhiguang’s measured voice broke the tranquil silence. “When this Maitreya image was first forged, it was tempered by Master Yingguang, the thirty-eighth generation patriarch of Bishan Monastery, through profound spiritual cultivation. In the centuries since, countless men of great virtue have refined it, continually imbuing it with all manner of rare treasures and celestial materials. Thus, this image of Maitreya has gradually become a spiritual treasure of great power.”

Ye Hua nodded, marveling. “So it is! Then surely this Maitreya image is fearsome indeed!” Zhiguang smiled faintly. “If we speak of the most wondrous Buddha statues in Bishan Monastery, the true treasures are those enshrined on the altar of the Precepts Hall.”

Ye Hua was taken aback. “The statues in the Precepts Hall? I have never heard of such things!”

Zhiguang paused, sitting down with a smile on a long stone bench beside the emerald path. “The stele of merits records that in the Jingping era of the Southern Dynasty, the monk Miaoxiang of this monastery set his heart on raising alms. While journeying through Shengjing, he met Lord Tong Guoyin, head of a great family, renowned for his virtue. Though an official, Lord Tong pursued Buddhist deeds and encouraged others to give as they wished. He commissioned, from Suzhou, twenty extraordinary images: arhats, Guanyin, and Weituo. These were transported over four thousand li by land and water, then sent from the capital to the Precepts Hall, where they were placed in niches and on seats, splendid and dignified. The eighteen arhats, in particular, required great effort and hardship to bring. Later, over a hundred years, several patriarchs of the monastery refined them in the Precepts Hall, endowing them with their current powers.”

Hearing this, Ye Hua’s curiosity grew. “This Master Zhiguang knows Bishan Monastery so intimately! If he is not an uncle-master of the monastery, then he must be a close friend of my own master. I have heard there were more than a dozen of his generation, yet my master never spoke of them. I wonder why.”

Zhiguang, after a while, sighed. “Fifty years have passed since I last conversed with anyone. Yet today, somehow, I find myself telling you so much. Haha, perhaps it is fate between us.” Ye Hua asked carefully, “Fifty years?” Zhiguang nodded, his voice low. “Indeed, fifty full years. Your various uncle-masters must also be about to emerge from seclusion! Ha! Good, good!”

Ye Hua was startled. “So he is truly my uncle-master!” With haste, he knelt and bowed deeply. “Disciple greets Uncle-Master!” Zhiguang smiled gently. “No need for such formality, quickly rise! I have no gift for our first meeting.” Suddenly, as if remembering something, he uttered a thoughtful sound, and a flash of white light revealed a small milky-white porcelain bottle in his hand. He chuckled. “I nearly forgot! This is a bottle of Purple Bamboo Elixir, a tonic to nourish one’s vital energy. It may be of some use for you in the upcoming Chanlin Tournament.”

Ye Hua was overjoyed and hastily replied, “Many thanks, Uncle-Master!” Bowing again, he took the bottle, his heart brimming with gratitude.

Zhiguang was silent for a moment, then asked, “I heard you mention that the victor will go to Cold City. What is the purpose of this journey?” Ye Hua scratched his head. “I do not know the full details. I only heard that in the realm of Ying the Demon, the demon star is said to have risen again. There are fears of an uprising in Cold Capital, and Mount Putuo worries it cannot resist alone, so all heroes of the land have been summoned to join in resistance.”

“Ying Demon?!” Zhiguang’s eyes flashed with a sharp light, which quickly faded. He asked solemnly, “What movements are there now in the Demon Domain of Ying?” Ye Hua bowed his head. “Disciple does not know.”

Zhiguang murmured, “Yes, how could you know? I did not expect things to unfold so quickly. It seems another great conflict is inevitable. Though the Ying Demon was gravely defeated last time, their foundation was not destroyed. Who would have thought they would recover so rapidly? Alas—the Great Liao has fallen into demonic hands and become a land for the Ying Demon’s resurgence, as was always to be expected…”

Ye Hua listened to Zhiguang’s mutterings, but could not understand most of it. Seeing Ye Hua’s baffled look, Zhiguang smiled slightly. “Tell your master that I have left seclusion. I must now go in haste to Jile Monastery on Mount Qingxu in Yan and Zhao to find an old friend, so that he may prepare for the journey to Cold Capital.”

Ye Hua replied, “Disciple understands.” Seeing Ye Hua’s respectful demeanor, the monk nodded, and with a casual gesture, a multicolored radiance flashed before him, and a spotted deer appeared. Its antlers were crystal clear, gleaming with a faint red light, like coral. Ye Hua stared in amazement: “Is this not the same spotted deer I saw in the contest atop the platform?” Before Ye Hua could collect himself, Zhiguang had already mounted the deer, which rose and floated away, vanishing in the blink of an eye.

“That spotted deer must be the spirit beast Uncle-Master rears. I wonder what immortal kind it is?” Ye Hua pondered to himself. To have encountered the very uncle-master who secretly aided him that day was indeed his good fortune. He put away the spiritual medicine and thought no more of it, hurrying off to find Monk Zhiku.

Meanwhile, Zhiguang flew through the sky, his heart troubled. “When I examined Nephew Ye Hua just now, I found something odd. His cultivation is clearly at the fourth stage of the Seven Treasures Realm, and his Buddhist essence is quite shallow. Yet I could sense something hidden within him, as if some power lay dormant—his spiritual energy far surpasses the fourth stage. How strange. Could it be he has secretly cultivated some extraordinary art? I recall that when I helped him last time, I sensed something unusual but dismissed it as my own illusion. I must ask Brother Zhiku about this in detail later.”

Thinking again of Ye Hua’s mention of the resurgence of the Ying Demon, old memories surged within him. The great battle with the Ying Demon in Liao so many years ago was never far from his mind. Of the sixteen brothers from the North Platform, six died, four went missing, and only six, including himself and Monk Zhiku, returned alive. Though he was the most accomplished among them, he had no desire to act as the North Platform’s abbot and went into solitary meditation in the Jialan Courtyard for over fifty years. Now, having left seclusion, he was determined to search distant lands for the four missing brothers.

“The North Platform suffered thus; the other four platforms also took losses. Putuo, Jiuhua, Emei, Qingcheng, Wudang, Kunlun—all these sects suffered grievous casualties. In the end, though the demons of Ying were routed, the losses were heavy. Most tragic of all, our senior brother, whose Buddhist essence was earth-shaking, actually...” At this, Zhiguang’s eyes grew moist, and he urged his divine stag on, increasing its speed.

After flying for more than half a day, Zhiguang entered the territory of Yan and Zhao. Several more hours passed before he beheld a chain of majestic mountains stretching into the distance. Knowing that beyond these ridges and a few more peaks lay Mount Qingxu, he pressed on. Mount Qingxu was well known in those parts, with several temples built upon its heights, secluded and tranquil, and a few ancient caves where reclusive cultivators practiced in secret.

Soon, Zhiguang reached Mount Qingxu and, wasting no time, flew directly to the mountains’ far side. There, hidden in a remote ravine, stood a temple known as Jile Monastery, little known to ordinary folk. Its abbot, Master Xukong, was Zhiguang’s sworn brother through life and death.

Alighting before the temple gates, Zhiguang recalled, “Back then, I owed my life to Master Xukong’s desperate rescue. I wonder how far he has advanced in his mastery of the Minor Immeasurable Art?” With his thoughts settled, Zhiguang stepped forward and gently pushed open the temple doors.