Chapter Forty: The Grand Ceremony Unfolds

Chapter Forty: The Grand Opening Ceremony
Chapter Forty-one: The Tiger Leaps, the Dragon Soars—A Contest of Roaring Black Blades and Spirit Swords

“Senior Sister, w-what are you doing here?” Ye Hua stammered.

Ling Yun’er burst out laughing. “Did you think everyone sleeps in as late as you do?”

Ye Hua blushed, embarrassed. “Senior Sister, isn’t it still early? By the way, I didn’t see Master or any of the other elders this morning.”

“Master and the elders have already gone to the Boundless Hall. We’ll head there ourselves in a bit,” Ling Yun’er replied.

Ye Hua asked curiously, “Boundless Hall? Aren’t we supposed to go straight to Bodhisattva Summit?”

Ling Yun’er smiled. “We haven’t yet paid our respects to the Holy Ancestor Manjushri. How could we go to Bodhisattva Summit directly…”

Just then, a voice called out from afar, “Junior Sister, Little Brother, why are you two here?” It was Qing Yu, who had seen them from a distance and was now approaching.

Before Ye Hua and Ling Yun’er could reply, Senior Brother Bai Shisong and several other disciples emerged from the house, beckoning them over.

Bai Shisong said, “Brothers, Master has just instructed us to follow the usual custom. We’ll first gather in front of Guanyin Hall to pay our respects to the elders of Great Auspicious Vulture Temple, and then proceed to Manjushri Hall for the opening ceremony of the Chanlin Assembly.”

“Yes, Senior Brother!” everyone responded in unison.

Bai Shisong nodded. “Go and make your preparations, and we’ll set out shortly.”

“Very well, Senior Brother,” came the reply, and the group dispersed to get ready.

Soon after, the nine of them set off for Great Auspicious Vulture Temple. The stone path wound through tranquil scenery, and after about a quarter of an hour, the path suddenly widened before them. Several groups of people could be seen ahead—some four or five dozen strong, others with numbers similar to their own—all disciples from the twenty monasteries of Mount Wutai.

The disciples of Biyun Temple joined the procession, passing through another stone gate and rounding a corner to find themselves in a vast plaza, smooth and polished as a mirror, covering a hundred acres or more. The place was already teeming with people—men and women, young and old, monks and laypersons alike. With a closer look, it was clear that lay disciples made up the overwhelming majority.

“Ah!” Ye Hua exclaimed softly. “Yesterday’s gathering was nothing compared to this. I hadn’t imagined the Chanlin Assembly would be so grand!”

Qing Yu smiled. “In past years, the numbers couldn’t compare to this—this year’s assembly is truly extraordinary.”

“You’re right, Fifth Brother,” Bai Shisong remarked in wonder. “We expected a large turnout, but not to this extent!”

Looking ahead, Ye Hua saw the Guanyin Hall dominating the plaza, its double-eaved roof soaring majestically—a sight of true grandeur.

They chatted for a while as the crowd continued to swell. Soon, more than a hundred elderly monks began to file out of Guanyin Hall. Qing Yu whispered, “I think the elders are coming.”

All eyes turned to the front. Leading the procession was a venerable old monk, his beard and brows snowy white, with the monks behind him walking with heads bowed in humility. They ascended the high platform before the hall and stood in solemn array.

Ye Hua didn’t recognize the elder at the fore, but since he led the group, it was clear he held the highest rank—though which patriarch he was, Ye Hua could not say. Qing Yu quietly asked Bai Shisong, “Senior Brother, is that Great Auspicious Vulture Temple’s abbot, Patriarch Ruhuai?”

Bai Shisong nodded slightly. “That is indeed Patriarch Ruhuai. Years ago, before our five gentlemen left the mountain to travel, we were fortunate enough to meet him. Right behind him is Patriarch Rujing of the Dharma Hall, to the left is Patriarch Rugang of the Arhat Hall, and the one in yellow robes is Patriarch Ruzhen of the Precepts Hall. The monk to the right is Patriarch Ruku, head of the Elders’ Academy. The rest, I don’t recognize—they are likely other elders from the academy…”

Bai Shisong had not finished when a sonorous “Amitabha” rang out. It was Patriarch Ruhuai intoning the Buddha’s name. At once, the thousands assembled fell silent and turned their gaze forward.

Standing on the platform, Patriarch Ruhuai surveyed the disciples below, his expression tinged with approval. Slowly, he spoke: “Today, all of Wutai gathers for a grand Chanlin Assembly, uniting one hundred and twenty-one temples and four thousand eight hundred and sixty-one outstanding disciples. Such a scene has not graced Wutai in the thousand years since the Holy Ancestor Manjushri founded the sect here.”

He paused, then continued, “The Chanlin Assembly is a test, divided into five grades. Only those of the first grade may descend the mountain to train—this has been our custom for centuries. But now, as the demon lords of Yingzhou rise again, we must make exception: this time, second-grade disciples as well may descend to train.”

A murmur ran through the crowd, but it seemed no one was particularly surprised—they must have heard beforehand.

Patriarch Ruhuai intoned, “Disciples, attend!”

All bowed their heads and responded in unison, “Yes, Patriarch!”

He said, “The Chanlin competitions are a test, to be carried out with restraint—no one is to go too far. Any who violate this will be expelled from the sect.”

“Yes, Patriarch!” the disciples replied in one voice.

“Good,” Patriarch Ruhuai nodded. “Now, form your lines and proceed to the Great Manjushri Hall, pay homage to the Holy Ancestor, and invite the golden Buddha image.”

With that, he turned and led the elders back into Guanyin Hall. The thousands below arranged themselves into one hundred and twenty-one lines and followed in procession.

Passing through Guanyin Hall, the disciples were awed by its vastness—the hall soared several stories high and stretched a hundred yards across, easily accommodating thousands. The woodwork was richly carved and painted, the interior solemn and majestic, the Buddha statues resplendent in gold.

Most were entering for the first time and could not hide their wonder and admiration. The Guanyin Hall was open from north to south, and beyond it lay another great plaza, at the far end of which stood an even grander hall. Above its entrance hung an enormous plaque, upon which four massive characters were inscribed: “Great Manjushri Hall.”

The disciples lined up before Manjushri Hall. Ye Hua now noticed two octagonal pavilions flanking the entrance, each housing a stele of white marble. The left stele was under eight feet tall and two and a half feet wide, and bore an inscription: “Erected on the nineteenth day of the seventh month, year forty-six of the Wentong era.” The right stele was blank, its purpose unknown.

Ye Hua asked in surprise, “Fifth Brother, why does one stele have writing but the other none?”

Qing Yu chuckled, “You’re asking the right person! Few know the true story behind these steles.”

Qing Kai interjected, “Don’t let Third Brother Qing Yu mislead you. That blank stele is known as the ‘Wordless Stele’—it’s a spiritual treasure of Great Auspicious Vulture Temple! It’s been here since the temple was founded. How could Qing Yu know more than that?”

Qing Yu smiled. “But you’re mistaken, Third Brother. I once read the origin of this stele in an ancient text, though I can’t say if it’s true. Normally, a stele is erected to record an inscription—so why is this one blank? The tale goes that, before the pavilion was built, two round pools lay here, their water clear as mirrors. When the monk Fodeng came to the mountain as the temple was being built, he stood before Manjushri Hall and looked up. From the summit of Bodhisattva Peak, he saw the mountain sprawled like a great azure dragon—poised, head up, in majestic repose. The archway at the summit was the dragon’s head, the two flagpoles its horns, and one hundred and eight steps descending from the archway the dragon’s flaming tongue.

“At midday, when the sun struck the pools, two round halos would appear on either side of the arch—like the dragon’s eyes. Realizing this, Fodeng told the abbot, Zhu Falan: ‘The dragon has two eyes—if they are not sealed, the dragon may fly away, and the mountain’s spiritual energy will be lost. The foreign monks from Tianzhu, She Moteng and Zhu Falan, chose this site for the temple precisely because of its spiritual veins. On hearing Fodeng’s words, they asked him how to secure it.’

“Fodeng replied, ‘If you wish to lock the dragon vein in place, you must break its eyes—fill in the pools and erect two steles atop them!’ And so, the pools were filled, and the steles raised. Zhu Falan asked Fodeng to compose the inscription, which was carved on the left stele.”