Chapter 53: If Everything Is Fated, Then Why Cultivate Buddha?
That day, the monks of Chanlin Temple waited outside the room for a long time.
Only when night fell did the abbot finally push open the door of the side chamber and step out.
There was a faint, relaxed smile on his face as he waved gently to the worried monks at the door, signaling that everything was fine.
Seeing Yuan Jing so at ease, the monks all breathed a collective sigh of relief.
He comforted them, saying, "Go back. He merely caught a chill. Let him rest quietly for a while."
The monks of Chanlin Temple thought it was just another small episode in the young grandmaster's path of growth.
After all, the next day they truly saw the grandmaster again, sniffling and cursing the abbot for being unreliable.
In the past, whenever the grandmaster spoke so rudely, the abbot would respond with a set of Luohan Fist techniques.
But that day, the abbot only looked at him with a deep, gentle smile.
The look alone made the grandmaster's hair stand on end, and he immediately admitted his mistake.
The grandmaster seemed normal again, but the abbot had changed.
In the past, as long as the monks were not starving, the abbot would never go down the mountain to take on work. He loved tranquility, and funerals—with their drums and horns—were too noisy.
As he once said himself, "After chanting sutras for half the day, the moment I open my mouth, the sound of a suona shatters the peace."
But ever since the grandmaster's illness, the abbot began leaving the temple often to take jobs.
He took on anything—any task, any ritual—and even started helping young women resolve matters of fate and marriage.
What was more, he did not wait to be asked. He sought work on his own, leaving early and returning late every day, then sitting alone before the Buddha in the main hall, counting the silver coins he had earned and sighing as he kept his accounts.
Some monks asked him why he needed so much money.
The abbot would smile and point to the worn Buddha statue. "Too old," he said. "Time to have it renewed."
Yet despite earning plenty of money, he never used a single coin to repair the statue.
Still, no one doubted his integrity, for within the temple, his character was beyond reproach. Though puzzled, no one pressed him too much.
Until, one day, the abbot began crossing lines that none had imagined.
In the past, he would take jobs alone. Later, he even started taking the Grandmaster Ancestor along—because the old master earned more money.
That was the Grandmaster Ancestor!
He was so thin he looked like skin stretched over bone, his eyes sunken, his figure no different from a corpse. Standing beside a coffin, one could hardly tell who was the deceased.
It almost seemed as though he might sit up from the coffin himself.
What was even stranger was that the Grandmaster Ancestor, who had long prepared to enter seclusion for death, suddenly agreed to accompany the abbot daily—willingly and without complaint, rain or shine.
It was during this period that the famous Chanlin Temple Fair began.
The sale of prayer flowers, the offering of spirit tablets, the rental of vendor stalls—all began at that time.
The abbot indeed earned a great deal through these temple fairs, yet he spent almost none of it.
The large Buddha statue now standing in the main hall was actually made of stone, coated with a layer of bronze paint to disguise it.
The original bronze statue had been dismantled and sold piece by piece, and through that transaction, the abbot even made a profit.
Despite the temple's wealth, their daily meals remained just as meager as before. So where did all the money go?
In time, some monks could no longer suppress their doubts and questioned him.
But whenever they did, the abbot would look at them like a scolded child, silent and remorseful, his weathered eyes full of sorrow. He would only apologize softly, never giving a reason.
With the Grandmaster Ancestor stepping forward to defend him, all suspicion was eventually silenced.
With the authority both of them commanded, no one dared question further.
Years passed, until the day of the Water Forest Dharma Assembly.
Yuan Jing's trembling hands covered Yuan Kong's eyes. A serene smile spread across his face as though a great burden had finally lifted.
He spoke softly, "Only because beings suffer do vows arise."
"Child, you were born a Buddha's Child… but today, it is the suffering of all beings that delivers you to Buddhahood."
Yuan Kong's eyes widened as he reached out to grab Yuan Jing's hand, but after hearing those words, his fingers slowly loosened, and he let the hand fall away.
He only spoke softly, "Child, don't be afraid."
Yuan Jing's gaze swept past the two white-bearded monks standing on either side of Yuan Kong. He smiled faintly and nodded to them.
The monk on Yuan Kong's left, who held a purification bottle, suddenly lifted his arm and poured out its contents.
A stream of misty golden-brown energy surged forth from the jade bottle, cascading toward Yuan Kong like a flood.
Yaoqin stood up in shock at the sight.
Chu Xingchen and Li Xingtian's eyes widened in disbelief.
Only Li Yingling stood there blankly, confused by everyone's reactions, not understanding what was happening.
Chu Xingchen exclaimed, "That's… faith power?!"
Just how much accumulated devotion would it take for faith power to flow like a stream from a purification bottle?
But that was not all.
The white-bearded monk on Yuan Kong's right held a jeweled canopy aloft, shading it above Yuan Kong's head. As he gently shook it, the eight colored glass beads hanging from the canopy began to emit streams of faith power as well.
The two currents of faith power intertwined and merged together.
Beneath the canopy, the faith power condensed into a series of vivid scenes.
During the famine, Yuan Jing gave away a thousand taels of silver, buying food for the starving.
Before the flood, Yuan Jing emptied his possessions to seal the broken embankment and save lives.
Day after day, Yuan Jing and the Grandmaster Ancestor went out to heal and rescue.
They held their purification bottles, gathering fragment by fragment, every trace of faith power they could find.
All the silver they earned—they gave it all away.
Every monk of Chanlin Temple trembled as they watched those images unfold from the flowing faith power.
Yuan Jing spoke softly, "Thus have I heard."
The faith power shuddered and began to swirl around him in great waves.
The hall fell silent—until the two Foundation Establishment monks holding ritual tools suddenly shouted, "Thus have I heard!"
The other monks awoke from their daze and followed in unison, "Thus have I heard!"
Yuan Kong's voice trembled as he began to recite the familiar scripture he had long since memorized by heart.
As Yuan Jing's chanting grew stronger, the faith power coiled around him and then surged into Yuan Kong's body!
The immense force shattered the life-preserving seal the Luohan had once placed within him.
The torrent of faith power rushed straight into Yuan Kong.
He felt an immense, pure energy pour through his body. It still began to fade as it entered him—but the sheer volume was overwhelming, flooding him bit by bit, filling every part of him.
Though it consumed rapidly, the once-dense faith power had thinned to a faint mist.
Yet in the end, it was enough.
Yuan Kong suddenly realized the power within him no longer vanished upon entering his body. Instead, it lingered—gathering, stabilizing.
He quietly absorbed every remaining trace of faith power.
When it was done, Yuan Jing smiled with deep relief, lowering the hand that had covered Yuan Kong's eyes.
Yuan Kong remained motionless, still immersed in the absorption of energy.
Looking at the boy before him, Yuan Jing recalled what the Luohan had said that day:
"This seal will last no more than ten years. You cannot save him. It is fate."
At the time, countless retorts had risen in Yuan Jing's heart, yet he had said nothing.
Now, years later, he finally whispered the words he had long held back—his quiet defiance against destiny itself:
"If everything is fated, then why cultivate Buddha at all?"
——————
Author's Note: This is a lighthearted, comedic novel. I won't turn it tragic.
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