We Agreed On Experiencing Life, So Why Did You Immortals Become Real?

Chapter 561: What Do I Seek in My Heart, Is It Right or Wrong?

In the pouring rain, Xiao Mo made his way up the mountain step by step.By now he was thoroughly soaked, his robes clinging tightly to his body, and yet he seemed entirely unaware of it.

He walked forward with his head lowered, no telling what thoughts were passing through his mind.

When Xiao Mo reached the gate of Four Void Temple, he stopped.

"Master."

He raised his head and saw his master standing not far away, waiting quietly for him.

"Did you see that lay benefactress?" Abbot Yuankong asked, his voice calm as always.

"I did." Xiao Mo gave a nod, rainwater sliding down his cheeks and dripping to the ground.

"Did that lay benefactress say anything to you?" Yuankong asked again with a smile.

"Miss Jingci... told me a story." Xiao Mo answered softly.

"I see." Yuankong gave a nod, looking at his disciple with kindly eyes. "This master has also heard a story. I wonder if you have heard it too?"

"This disciple would be glad to hear it." Xiao Mo said.

Yuankong's voice drifted slowly through the curtain of rain. "Once, there was a demon woman who fell deeply in love with a man of the human race."

"Later, the woman became pregnant, but because the child in her womb had a particular constitution, the human bloodline and the demon bloodline clashing against each other, the woman had no choice but to divide the child's bloodline into two."

"But the price was that the child's great path was likewise split in two."

"The younger sister, who inherited the demon bloodline, would have to reach the Ascension realm within a thousand years, and her clan attained the Dao only through love. How could that be an easy thing?"

"As for the elder sister, who inherited the human bloodline, she would need to cultivate in dual practice with a man, but that man would need to be capable of cultivating an extremely rare technique, one that had not been mastered by anyone in several thousand years."

"And yet, no one could have anticipated..." Yuankong's gaze settled deeply on Xiao Mo, "that such a man truly existed in this world after all. The younger sister came to love him, and he came to master that technique."

Listening to his master's words, Xiao Mo raised his head, genuine surprise showing in his eyes.

"There is a saying, that the causes of a past life become the fruits of this one." Yuankong smiled and continued slowly. "In this world, some people walk through life anew and forget everything that came before. But some people... can they truly forget?"

"Master..." Xiao Mo parted his lips, wanting to say something, but not knowing how to begin.

"Child, there is no need to say more about many of these things." Yuankong shook his head gently, his gaze warm and kind. "I have already had Queyang take your place attending to patients today. Go to the main hall and recite the sutras instead."

"Yes... Master." Xiao Mo pressed his hands together respectfully, then turned and walked into the temple.

Yuankong stood quietly where he was, watching the child he had raised from infancy walk away, step by step, growing more distant.

That soaked figure appeared somewhat frail against the curtain of rain, and yet carried an indescribable heaviness.

"Amitabha."

Yuankong pressed his hands together, closed his eyes, and murmured the Buddha's name softly.

Passing through the front hall and the courtyard, Xiao Mo arrived within the main hall.

With every step he took, his soaked robe left a long trail of water on the blue brick floor.

By this point, the temple's pilgrims had long since dispersed.

The vast hall stood empty, only the towering Buddha statue seated high at the front, flanked on either side by rows of Buddhas, eyes lowered, gazing down in silence.

Xiao Mo walked beneath the statue and slowly knelt on the prayer cushion.

"Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, while practicing the profound Prajnaparamita, perceived that all five aggregates are empty, and thus overcame all suffering."

"Shariputra, form does not differ from emptiness, emptiness does not differ from form, form is emptiness, emptiness is form. The same is true for feeling, perception, mental formations, and consciousness."

"Shariputra, all dharmas are marked with emptiness, they do not arise or cease, are not defiled or pure, do not increase or decrease."

"Therefore, in emptiness there is no form, no feeling, perception, mental formations, or consciousness, no eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, or mind, no sight, sound, smell, taste, touch, or object of mind, no realm of sight, up to no realm of consciousness. There is no ignorance, and no ending of ignorance, up to no old age and death, and no ending of old age and death."

Xiao Mo recited the sutras with closed eyes, his clear and steady voice echoing softly through the empty hall but even in this hall, filled with the resonance of sutras and the solemn presence of the sacred, an image of a woman rose unbidden in his mind.

That little fox girl of years past, bounding up to him with a spring in her step, raising her small face and asking, in her clear, bright voice, what his name was.

The mischievous look on her face when she made faces at him during class, sneaking a glance to see if the teacher had noticed, her eyes full of triumph.

She had grown into a graceful young woman, and beneath the flowing moonlight, every word she had spoken to him seemed carved into his heart, impossible to erase.

She had disguised herself as a farm girl with a sprained ankle, believing her performance flawless, unaware that he had seen through it from the start.

In the deep quiet of the night, she had slipped quietly, on tiptoe, into Four Void Temple.

She had gripped the doorframe, poking half her face around it, calling out softly, again and again, "Monk."

"Monk, you only have the Three Refuges, but I happen to have a Fourth Refuge. Would you like to hear it?"

The woman's willow-shaped brows had curved, her smile bright, her eyes full of softness.

When she looked at him, those eyes seemed to hold the whole of spring within them.

"What is the Fourth Refuge?" the monk had raised his head and asked with puzzlement.

"Hold out your hand. I will teach you."

The woman had pulled his large hand toward herself, gently placing it on her own knee, and word by word, line by line, like moonlight falling on the still surface of a lake, ripples of tenderness had spread outward.

"I will say a line, and you repeat it."

The woman had spoken softly, "Take refuge in the Buddha."

The monk had echoed, "Take refuge in the Buddha."

The woman, “Take refuge in the Dharma."

The monk, “Take refuge in the Dharma."

The woman, “Take refuge in the Sangha."

The monk, “Take refuge in the Sangha."

"Take refuge..." The woman had raised her eyes, gazing at him with a soft, water-like tenderness, "Miss Jing..."

"Mm?" The monk had raised his head, looking at her with puzzlement.

"Go on, say it." The smile at the corner of her lips had bloomed like a quietly opening lamp flower, surfacing deep in Xiao Mo's mind, her voice carrying a faint tremble. "Take refuge... in Miss Jingci."

He did not know how long it took before that woman's figure gradually dissolved in Xiao Mo's mind, her voice fading quietly from his ears as well.

The sound of sutra recitation in the hall stopped along with it.

Xiao Mo opened his eyes, raised his head, and looked quietly at the great Buddha statue before him.

The Buddha, eyes lowered, gazed down upon Xiao Mo.

Man and Buddha faced each other in silence, the whole hall utterly still.

Thinking of what he was about to do, Xiao Mo's heart filled with a quiet sorrow.

The man paid his respects to the Buddha, and asked within his heart.

What this disciple's heart seeks, is it right, or is it wrong?

The Buddha held his flower and smiled.

He gave no answer nor spoke a word.