Chengtian Hall.
On the plaza.
At this moment, all was silent.
Buddha light and Dao rhythm flowed.
Just then.
The gaunt old monk softly chanted a Buddha's name, his voice like an ancient bell, cleansing the human heart.
"Amitabha. This old monk Ku Hai, together with my disciples Jin Chan and Fendeng, has come specially to congratulate the new sovereign of Great Xia on his enthronement and the imperial wedding. May His Majesty inherit Heaven's mandate, with the nation's fortune enduring long, may the Emperor and Empress be as phoenixes in harmony, of one heart for a thousand autumns."
As his words fell, he lightly raised his right hand, and in his palm there appeared the illusory image of a golden lotus.
In the heart of the lotus rested a glazed śarīra the size of a pigeon egg, seven-colored in hue, its radiance restrained within.
