coobybook Chapter 529 The Cold and Pure Human Buddha Child VS The Adorable and Devoted Demon Cat Emperor [205]
Chapter 529 The Cold and Pure Human Buddha Child VS The Adorable and Devoted Demon Cat Emperor [205]
Snow fell in January, and jade-like flakes danced in the air.
Heaven and earth bestowed a grand sacrificial ceremony, the blood and tears of yesterday buried silently.
The ancient temples stand serenely, welcoming the dawn after a long night. The shimmering light climbs the mountains, and the temple bell rings for the 108th time, like a Buddhist rosary turning 108 times, ushering in a gentle nirvana.
Jinglian heard the bell ringing from under the corridor. Looking towards the sound, she saw the prayer flags fluttering devoutly in the temple.
All of this was done for one person.
On that day, the mortal world was desolate and barren, and karma and karmic ties were obliterated.
Some are sacrificed, some are reborn.
Jinglian, who arrived later, witnessed this breathtaking scene clearly.
He had never seen a calm and composed Buddhist disciple lose control like this, nor had he ever seen such boundless greed and evil thoughts expressed with such devotion…
All I know is that all causes and effects are resolved in the void above.
Whose tears won't stop...?
Whose blood has dried up...?
Whose reluctance to part, like continuous raindrops, falls all over the world.
After Jiang Xiyu perished under the lightning tribulation, all that remained for this world was a collapsed ruin, and all that remained for his loved ones was a body about to dissipate.
No one knows what the strange phenomenon was that day, nor does anyone know why the rain that fell was mixed with blood.
But after all the strange phenomena subsided, life returned to normal.
Above the void, the Buddhist disciple sat alone for a long time, embracing the body.
Only when the Buddha's light dissipated and the long night began again did he silently embrace Jiang Xiyu, who had already returned to her original form, and descend to the mortal world.
The cycle repeats itself, and when the next day's sunlight shines on the earth, everything seems unchanged, yet everything also seems to have changed.
Jinglian watched as Shijia brought Jiang Xiyu back to the Buddhist cave. Seeing his figure dim and lifeless, she was so shocked that she dared not go forward or recognize him.
To this day, the temple's morning bell has rung 108 times.
In the blink of an eye, autumn's withered days faded, and winter's snow arrived.
I wonder if these prayer flags reached the heavens, and if those who departed wished to be gently reborn with the new snow.
If possible, please ask him to have mercy and come back to see his loved ones.
After a long silence, Jinglian clasped her hands together and sighed softly, "Amitabha," before stepping towards the solemn hall to offer her prayers.
……
Incense burned continuously in the hall, and prayers were recited incessantly.
The chanting of the monks echoed before the Buddha. After the prayers ended, Jinglian looked at the small prayer cushion on the offering table and slowly raised her hand to wipe away the dust.
After the monk finished burning the scriptures, he went up to Jinglian and said something.
The gist of the question is whether they need to write new scriptures since the existing ones have been burned.
Upon hearing this, Jinglian shook her head, only saying that she would retrieve the scriptures during the morning prayers the next day.
In fact, Cibei Temple is different from ordinary temples in the human world. Most of the monks who come to Cibei Temple to practice are enlightened by Buddhist disciples and are high-ranking monks in the human world. The Dharma is already in their hearts, and they have long since cut off worldly thoughts. Therefore, no one in the temple usually burns scriptures for prayer.
The prayer text for this blessing was written by a Buddhist disciple himself.
When ordinary people are unable to escape the cycle of life and death, they place their hopes in scriptures. Through sincere writing, they pray for the Buddha's protection.
Unexpectedly, one day, even a Buddhist disciple would pray like an ordinary person.
Jinglian gazed silently at the scriptures that had been burned to ashes until the last spark died out, then turned and left the main hall.
The journey to the Buddhist cave was serene and pristine.
Jinglian couldn't bear to step on the fallen snow, so she slipped to the stone gate of the Buddhist cave.
When he entered, not even a speck of dust was disturbed. He simply arrived silently at the meditation cave where Shiga was, and was greeted by a warm feeling.
Outside the Zen cave, it was a world of ice and snow, but inside it was warm as spring, with hundreds of lamps lit.
Jiang Xiyu's body was enshrined in the center of the lotus platform, surrounded by flickering lamplight, and the flow of merit was observed.
Not far away, a snow-white figure sat quietly at a desk, writing scriptures.
Those hands, with their distinct knuckles, somehow gave off a rugged feeling in the swaying light and shadow, as if they had experienced all the hardships of life and withered until they were almost worn down.
The Xuan paper was scattered all over the ground, covered with dense ink marks, as if it were filled with all his silent prayers for humanity.
Since the Buddhist disciple brought him back to the Buddhist cave, he has never left again.
He felt as if he and that person were trapped here, and also trapped in the past.
The golden light shimmered in the Buddhist grotto, yet it could not dispel the dimness and desolation surrounding it, like an ancient Buddha covered in dust, only able to linger briefly by the light of a flickering lamp.
It's too quiet.
It is even calmer than a still pond.
He no longer possesses the compassion of the past, nor the obsession of the present.
There is only one kind of loneliness and indifference: silently observing life and death, patiently waiting for the passing years.
It was as if this person, this figure, had become an illusion.
Jinglian looked on, her heart heavy.
The eight sufferings of human life are: the suffering of not getting what you want, the suffering of being separated from loved ones.
Among these, the suffering of not getting what one desires causes Buddhist disciples immense torment; while the suffering of separation from loved ones, repeated twice, can almost easily destroy a person.
How could he not be gloomy and lifeless?
Jinglian remained silent for a long time before slowly walking to the table and comforting him, "Buddha's disciple, he has already taken human form, so please... take care of your own health..."
After this incident, the Buddha's golden body was shattered, and he was no longer the same as before.
Whether the person on the lotus platform will wake up is also an unknown.
Shiga paused slightly with his pen in hand, then slowly raised his head, revealing a pale face.
He gazed silently at the ethereal human figure that had materialized in the center of the lotus platform, his aura as calm and still as stagnant water.
After a long while, he staggered to his feet and walked to the foot of the lotus platform.
Through the flickering lamplight, his gaze seemed to be shrouded in mist over a snow-capped mountain, yet it also covered him with extreme care.
He will wake up...
He will keep waiting...
It doesn't matter how long it takes.
If his prayers weren't enough, he could keep writing.
If one's merits are insufficient, one can continue to help others.
Until he was willing to come back to his side, until he was willing to wake up and see him one more time.
Shiga slowly walked onto the lotus platform, then knelt beside Jiang Xiyu and gently stroked his cold, illusory figure.
I want to touch it, but I'm afraid if I touch it for too long, it will dissipate...
He wanted to hold him, but the image of him lying in his arms covered in blood that day deeply pained him, and it always lingered in his mind in the quiet of the night.
Shiga finally ran out of options.
He dared not touch him for too long, nor dared to hold him in his arms again. Only by pouring his endless sorrow and prayers into the scriptures could he temporarily forget the terrifying scene.
He will stay by his side, no matter how long it takes.
Although Jinglian felt pained upon seeing this, she did not wish to continue to disturb them.
He turned around, put the scriptures on the table into his sleeve, and then bowed to Shiga.
The next moment, his figure disappeared silently into the Buddhist cave.
As she was leaving, Jinglian still looked back with concern.
Then the figure kneeling on the lotus platform gradually lay down along with the sleeping person.
He lay on his side next to Jiang Xiyu and slowly closed his eyes.
The sacred lotus platform instantly transformed into their tomb, and the wisps of light and shadow enveloping them resembled snow falling outside the grotto.
Until this moment, the mortal world truly seemed to have its final judgment before the Buddha.
Thus, day and night, they remained undying and unrepentant.