The monk sighed softly and said, "Domain Lord, your twisted logic is truly beneath your stature. You have stripped myriad people of their chance to enter the Pure Land and enjoy the bliss of the Buddha Kingdom. They will inevitably harbor hatred and resentment toward you. Bound henceforth by sinful karma, you shall never step through the immortal gate!"
Though the monk spoke in a low voice, each word crashed down like thunder, shaking heaven and earth and carving itself into the great Dao of this local world, like lines of Sanskrit branded into existence.
Having finished speaking, two trickles of clear water ran from the monk's nostrils, and he passed away with a smile.
Wei Yuan remained silent for a moment before saying, "Men, send this lump to the Academy of Sciences as well."
The Pure Land's strikes came in rapid succession, each more unpredictable than the last. He did not know this monk's origin, yet his cultivation was on par with that old monk's. At the cost of his golden body and a lifetime of cultivation, that old monk had converted the mortals of several commanderies and a hundred counties in a single stroke, taking nearly thirty percent of the population across Ganzhou's ten commanderies.
This monk, however, commanded the law through his words, entangling the karma of hundreds of millions of devotees with Wei Yuan. If Wei Yuan forbade them from practicing Buddhism, in their minds he was destroying their bliss and ruining their next lives. The resentment of tens of millions of devotees would bind Wei Yuan like chains, ready to drag him back down whenever he attempted to ascend to immortality.
Wei Yuan's mindscape world was already exceptionally vast; manifesting it into the present world and ascending to the Immortal Heaven was already fraught with difficulty. Adding this heavy burden of tangled malice was a deliberate attempt to bar his path to ascension.
If Wei Yuan thought only of his ascension, he would have no choice but to sit idly by and watch these devotees proselytize. Yet with his temperament, that was tantamount to being spat upon in the face every single day—how could he endure it? His Dao heart would almost certainly fracture.
At this moment, Wei Yuan sat still. Outside the hall came heavy footsteps and the clanking of armor as a large squad of armored soldiers suddenly charged into the county yamen, their bodies shimmering with a faint military qi.
These hundred-plus soldiers were Qingming regular troops stationed here. Imbued with military qi daily, they were exceptionally difficult to convert. Having arrived under orders, their fierce glares locked with the bailiffs, who immediately cast their eyes down, not daring to meet their gaze.
The bailiffs had always feared regular troops; facing robust soldiers capable of manifesting military qi, their terror was only natural.
Obeying orders, the soldiers carried away the monk's seated corpse. Wei Yuan remained seated, waiting to see what further developments would follow the monk's passing.
Once the soldiers left and the suppressing military qi dissipated, strange expressions crept back onto the faces of the bailiffs in the hall. While most lacked the courage to act rashly out of fear for the authority and divine might Wei Yuan had displayed, several were already stirring, unable to conceal their malice.
Still, they retained enough fear of authority and power not to riot on the spot.
Outside the hall, however, the grievance drum was already thumping loudly. A huge crowd surrounded the county yamen, shouting incessantly and demanding the master's release.
Seeing the massive, swelling crowd outside, the few bailiffs guarding the entrance grew panicked.
An old bailiff's cheek twitched. Drawing his iron ruler, he lashed out indiscriminately at the front of the crowd, bellowing, "Clear out, all of you! A lord from above is conducting official business inside! Gathering and clamoring like this—are you courting death?!"
In an instant, several people were battered until blood streamed down their faces. Yet one man suddenly reached out, caught the old bailiff's iron ruler, and cried out, "What fear is there in death? We are laying down our lives to defend the Dao! Even if we perish, our merit in defending the Dao will surely ensure our rebirth into the Buddha Kingdom to enjoy eternal bliss!
You who obstruct us are evil demons and heretics! You shall plunge into hell forever, burned day and night by karmic fire!"
Fierce glares appeared in everyone's eyes as they stared at the old bailiff like he was an asura fiend.
Accustomed to throwing his weight around, the old bailiff looked at these faces that had always cowered before him, now suddenly turned savage and furious. A chill gripped his heart; not daring to stand in their way any longer, he silently retreated to the side.
Hundreds, thousands of commoners surged in, trampling down the courtyard gates, smashing through the railings, and swarming into the main hall like a flock of hornets.
Wei Yuan remained seated in the magistrate's chair, lost in thought.
The Pure Land converted ordinary mortals, leaving behind cruel petty tyrants like this old bailiff. One look was enough for Wei Yuan to know that this old bailiff had committed numerous wicked deeds in the past—piling up sins and bad karma, in the Pure Land's terms. Taking advantage of people's distress to abuse helpless women alone was enough to earn him a beheading.
Wei Yuan understood in his heart that the Pure Land had handed him a dilemma. If he did not quell civil unrest himself, he would have to rely on men like this old bailiff to keep order and enforce suppression on a daily basis. And in doing so, such people would borrow his authority to act like tigers, who knew how many more atrocities they would commit.
Tuchuan County was an exact microcosm of Western Jin today. The territory Qingming had occupied was too vast; there had not been time to manage it in fine detail. Simply re-erecting boundary stones, dividing farmland, prospecting leylines and mineral veins, and handling other fundamental matters had already consumed more than two years.
During this period, for the sake of stability, Wei Yuan had not replaced all the original officials. Instead, he had only replaced the county magistrates and garrisoned troops in commandery seats and a few major counties. Subordinate clerks and bailiffs were largely kept in place, while local gentry and influential clans were left untouched; he had merely purged those linked to the Lu clan and confiscated the Lu family properties.
This approach differed little from dynastic transitions of the past, quickly putting people's minds at ease. Its advantage was a smooth transition; its downside was that old, deep-seated abuses were carried over as well—like this old bailiff who swung his weapon with lethal force.
This old bailiff was not just an individual; he represented a lineage, even the entire class of local gentry and clans. County magistrates came and went with each term, but these locals remained for decades. Anyone holding such low-ranking yet practically powerful positions had to come from prominent local families; otherwise, they could never hold their seats securely.
In counties and townships, cultivators and militiamen were mostly controlled by these prominent families. Whatever a magistrate wished to accomplish—whether judging cases or distributing disaster relief—he had to rely on these local powerhouses. In many remote villages, the populace knew only the clan elders, not the magistrate.
Furthermore, within a single township or village, reclusive rogue cultivators often lived in seclusion. If such cultivators turned violent, the damage was immense. Guarding against them also depended on the prominent local families, who would know immediately whenever an unfamiliar face appeared.
These prominent families had not sprung up from nowhere either. Most were founded by officials or high-level cultivators who had originated from the area and returned to settle down in their old age. Thus, a clan in a single township might well be the descendants of a court official in the capital, or the scions of a Dharma Idol cultivator. The ties were intricate and tangled, impossible to unravel.
Therefore, even during dynastic changes in the past, these local clans were largely left untouched; ancestral halls in many rural villages boasted histories of over a thousand years. Even kings of the various states were unwilling to alter this status quo, knowing that meddling would provoke upheaval.
In Wei Yuan's eyes, this had never truly been a problem. According to his plan, he needed only to stabilize the situation first, then ship in grain to relieve the poorest populace, embedding Qingming's majesty and benevolence into the hearts of the people. Once that was done, he could manipulate these gentry and petty clerks—the true foundation of past dynasties—at will.
When the time came, whoever defied him and revolted would be crushed on sight, county by county. The ringleaders' clans would be executed, while the blind followers among the commoners would be spared. After a few years of bloodshed, the realm would be pacified, eradicating these chronic maladies that no past dynasty had ever managed to cure.
Yet now, the Pure Land had seized this exact moment to convert ordinary mortals and even officials dispatched by Qingming, dumping all those laden with sin and evil karma right onto Wei Yuan's lap.
Even if Wei Yuan relied on them to quell this conversion crisis, what would he do afterward? Either let them run rampant, turning the territory into another Western Jin, or bear the infamy of slaughtering meritorious contributors.
Relying solely on Qingming to dispatch officials was too slow; a vacuum of even a few months would allow Buddhist cultivators to spread like a plague.
In the blink of an eye, countless plans formed in Wei Yuan's mind, only to be rejected one after another.
Facing the commoners rushing into the county yamen, Wei Yuan said in a deep voice, "You have been led astray by an evil cult, speaking wild words and committing rebellious deeds. Yet considering you possess no cultivation and had no strength to resist, your offense is pardoned. Disperse!"
Wei Yuan's voice carried immense dharma power. In an instant, clarity returned to the eyes of everyone within several li. The people in the hall awoke as if from a dream. Stricken with terror upon realizing what a grave disaster they had brought about, they fell to their knees one after another, kowtowing in panic in every direction.
Seeing this, Wei Yuan sighed inwardly.
This was how mortals normally behaved: offending the authorities felt as though the heavens had collapsed, leaving them without a shred of dignity. In contrast, the reckless valor they had shown when storming the yamen earlier had actually felt more agreeable to him.
Yet valor born of conversion was not true courage. It was like the slave soldiers empowered by the Shamans during their assaults, who feared neither life nor death; the moment that empowerment vanished, they scattered like birds. Who among them was truly unafraid of dying?
Just then, several cultivators landed in the courtyard. The leader, a Dharma Idol cultivator, hurried in, only to pause in surprise upon seeing Wei Yuan's avatar.
Wei Yuan had not given this avatar his true appearance, so the man naturally did not recognize him. However, he recognized the silver waist medallion in front of Wei Yuan. He immediately cupped his hands in greeting and said, "This humble official is Sima Duan, vice prefect of this commandery. Assigned by superiors, I have come to handle matters in this county. May I ask who your lordship..."
"I leave everything here to Vice Prefect Sima," Wei Yuan replied. Without revealing his identity, he simply handed over the affairs, departed the county yamen, and set off to inspect other regions.
Over the next few days, Wei Yuan observed dozens of commanderies and counties; they were all largely the same.
Among them was Lanyang County. It had favorable weather and abundant arable land, and should have been a prosperous place. But precisely because of this, many people from surrounding regions had migrated there; no matter how much grain was produced, it was never enough, leaving the county destitute.
Yet the poverty of the commoners did not hinder the prominent clans and wealthy families in the county. As the saying went, the strength of a prominent clan depended only on the size of the county. In a county as large and impoverished as Lanyang, the prominent families were bound to be immensely powerful.
It was midsummer, a critical time for farming when everyone ought to have been busiest. Yet in the fields and along the ridges, temples large and small had sprung up. Countless farmers who should have been working the soil were either building temples or prostrating and chanting scriptures. The fields that should have bustled with laborers were abandoned, and the leaves of the lush green sprouts had already begun to scorch yellow.
A scholar walked through the countryside, stopping a farmer now and then to ask, "Why aren't you farming? What scripture are you chanting?"
"This is a precious scripture! Chanting it once cleanses a year's worth of sins. Once you finish this life's sins, you can cleanse the previous life's, and the one before that! Chant it nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine times, and in your next life, you're guaranteed rebirth in the Pure Land! You still don't know about this precious scripture? Come, come, let me teach you..."
Wei Yuan's avatar, disguised as the scholar, had no choice but to interrupt him. "If you don't farm now, what will you eat in the autumn and winter?"
"How could minor things like that compare to cleansing bad karma? That is a matter spanning lifetimes!" The farmer wore a pious expression, looking at the scholar as if he were utterly foolish.
Seeing the scholar ask again, he replied, "Just focus on cultivating; blessings will naturally follow! What does it matter whether we farm or not? Qingming will send grain anyway. Isn't that precisely the good karma we cultivated for ourselves!"
Chapter 1207