The layout of all temples was more or less the same—most followed established specifications and forms. Only occasionally were minor adjustments made.
However, the true Zhengyin Dharma Temple that the Arhat had spoken of was built with exceptional precision. It was constructed entirely according to Buddhist specifications, and its grounds were not large—roughly two-thirds the size of Chanlin Temple. One glance took in everything.
The entire dharma temple was built quite modestly, mostly of mud bricks paired with wood that, even when painted, appeared exceedingly old.
It was a stark contrast to the magnificent structures outside the city.
Yuan Kong's expression was calm. People were good and bad—this didn't change because of cultivation, nor did it change because of what one cultivated.
It was the same for cultivators, and the same for Buddhist cultivators. Power was not the essence—the heart was.
Having lived in a Buddhist temple for as long as he could remember, Yuan Kong naturally needed no introduction. A casual glance was enough to tell him the purpose of each building.
There were also monks within the Zhengyin Dharma Temple, but by comparison, their numbers were extremely few. Walking past buildings, one might occasionally spot one or two Buddhist cultivators with closed eyes, deep in practice.
Within the dharma temple, there were no ordinary mortal monks—everyone here was a cultivator.
Moreover, their cultivation levels were not low. To ordinary people without perception, Yuan Kong would be inconspicuous, but to these Buddhist cultivators, he was like a blazing lantern.
As Yuan Kong casually passed by, those cultivators would open their eyes one after another, bow to him, and only then resume their practice.
Facing their bows, Yuan Kong returned each one.
Yuan Kong proceeded alone, naturally with a destination in mind. After walking straight ahead for a short while, he came upon a hall that was finally somewhat more ornate. A plaque hung high—Mahavira Hall.
All four doors stood open. A monk with a hunched back and emaciated frame stood before the Buddha statue, lightly striking the wooden fish before him.
It wasn't only the Mahavira Halls built by the Zhongzhou Buddhist sect that were genuine—this one was genuine too.
For novices, the difference was merely one of splendor, because the one seated on high was no particular person—it was the Buddha in one's heart.
It could be anyone, so it could be built anywhere, by anyone.
Yuan Kong looked at the hunched monk, stepped forward slowly, and stopped before the great doors. He pressed his palms together:
"Buddha Child Nankong, passing through on my cultivation journey. I seek your guidance."
"This is not a place for a pure Buddha Child like you."
The monk slowly turned around. His aged face was deeply lined, his eyes murky and unfathomable, his voice old and hoarse—unpleasant to ordinary ears.
He slowly rose to his feet, his cloudy gaze studying Yuan Kong for a moment before speaking:
"I will keep you for one night, offer you one vegetarian meal, and have someone escort you away. There are no answers you seek here, nor any guidance I can give."
Yuan Kong met his gaze directly and asked bluntly, "This isn't a Buddhist temple? Senior, you don't cultivate the Buddhist Dharma?"
The monk gently set down the wooden fish on the table behind him:
"This is a Buddhist temple, but almost no one here cultivates the Buddhist Dharma. My chanting is devout only because I chant for myself. This place cannot give you answers—it will only cause you to lose your direction."
A faint smile appeared on Yuan Kong's face. "Sounds like a dark temple."
"Sounds like nothing—this place simply is one." The monk answered without hesitation. "This place is filled with Arhats of fury and Rakshasas with blood on their hands. Those who come here find no Buddha—only cultivators on the verge of becoming vengeful spirits."
"Desire flows through my heart, rage burns my six virtues, precepts are cast aside as nothing, and compassion crumbles like dust."
Even for someone who had seen his share of the world and heard countless ghostly deceptions, Yuan Kong was momentarily stunned.
He had met blunt speakers, but this was blunt to an extraordinary degree.
Not even pretending—purely and unapologetically wicked?
The monk's gaze was calm as he looked at Yuan Kong and continued: "You are a Buddha Child, destined to sit upon the golden lotus. I have no intention of harming you."
"I have lived for untold years, and from what I've witnessed with my own eyes, even to be human one must blend with the light and the dust."
"Sit upon the golden lotus, and naturally there must be others below it, chanting sutras on your behalf. Such is the way of the world—an unchanging truth since antiquity."
Yuan Kong challenged him: "Even the Buddha is like this?"
A smile appeared on the monk's aged face as he answered simply:
"Even the Buddha is like this. The golden lotus was never meant for everyone."
Before Yuan Kong could respond, the monk waved him into the hall.
Without further hesitation, Yuan Kong stepped into the hall with a solemn expression, following the direction of the monk's gesture.
The Buddha upon the main seat nearly reached the ceiling, yet its face was visible—faceless.
Only a rounded facial shape, no eyes, no nose, no ears.
"The Buddha originally had no form, or perhaps ten thousand forms." The monk spoke calmly. "That was how it was in the beginning. Now it is different—there are titles, forms, and objects of worship."
Yuan Kong withdrew his gaze and looked at the monk. "With such views, shouldn't you not be here?"
A smile crossed the monk's face as he stepped forward. Spiritual energy rolled from his body, and even that slight fluctuation carried boundless authority.
Yuan Kong's eyes widened. From just this faint ripple of spiritual energy, he could tell—the one before him was a supreme power among powers!
But in the next instant, countless golden chains materialized from all directions—from the ceiling, from underground, from the Buddha's hands—binding the monk's limbs and neck tightly.
Then, as the monk stepped back, all the golden chains vanished instantly, as if they had been nothing more than illusion.
"Even one who shouldn't be here must remain here." The monk continued speaking. "I am here half by compulsion, half by choice. My staying here is the bottom line."
"Someone must fail to become a Buddha. Why can't that person be me?"
"Besides, I don't think that Buddha up there is so wonderful either. Isn't the golden lotus he sits upon also a set of chains?"
The monk turned back and picked up the wooden fish from the table. "There is a great secret here. That Arhat couldn't see what your eyes are capable of, but your eyes will always see things you shouldn't."
"I should have sent you away directly, but your arrival is poorly timed."
"You can only stay one night. Remain in your room—go nowhere. And if possible, don't even open your eyes."
Yuan Kong sighed softly and asked no more questions. At this point, the old monk had already said more than enough. He pressed his palms together and bowed slightly:
"Thank you for your instruction."
The monk turned back and lightly struck the wooden fish on the table, speaking as if in consolation:
"You are a Buddha Child, which means you are a future Buddha. The future lies entirely in your hands—whether you seek radiance or purity, it is all in your hands, in your hearts. We are but dust, destined to be swept away, leaving no trace."
"Simply do what you wish to do."
Yuan Kong gave a slight nod but said nothing more.
In the past, having traveled so far only to be dismissed with a few words, he would have felt some simmering frustration.
But now was different.
Through experience, Yuan Kong had come to understand that the monk before him had already spoken words he shouldn't have been able to say.
People had many sides. This monk was naturally a good person to Yuan Kong, but to others, he was not.
Yuan Kong pressed his palms together once more and then turned to leave.
————————
Zhengyin Dharma Temple, guest quarters.
After thanking the guiding Arhat, Yuan Kong sat down heavily in a chair, his heart burdened.
"Buddha Child Nankong? Aren't you Yuan Kong from the Chanlin Buddhist Temple in Yuzhou City?"
A voice suddenly came from behind him.
Yuan Kong's heartbeat stuttered for half a beat. He immediately whipped his head around to look.
[
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