Liberation

Kongshan Temple had stood for ten thousand years, spanning the two dynasties of Li and Tang; it was truly an ancient sanctuary that had endured through the ages. Today, Kongshan Temple was nestled deep within the mountains, a hundred li of mountain paths away from the nearest town. The monastery consisted of merely four successive courtyards front to back, flanked by two side compounds—one housing the monks, the other storing ritual implements and sundries. Mountain vines had long overgrown the monastery walls, and moss clung to the main gate. The entire temple housed barely a dozen monks, subsisting on roughly a hundred mu of terraced mountain fields cleared along the perimeter. Wei Yuan stood before the mountain gate, looking up at the horizontal plaque bearing three large characters: "Kongshan Temple." The paint on the plaque was peeling and mottled; it had long since been due for a fresh coat. Yet its secluded, antique simplicity was nothing more than an illusion. How could a remote ancient sanctuary, sustained only by meager fields that could barely feed thirty mouths, nurture two Scenery Command cultivators like Hanzhong and Hanchan? From the temple's mountain gate stepped an old monk. Paying no heed to the army blanketing the mountains and wilderness, he went about sweeping the fallen leaves on the mountain as if nothing else existed. Wei Yuan did not press forward. Instead, he retreated several rods, then waved his arm. Countless armored soldiers surged past him like a tidal wave, charging Kongshan Temple. A centurion charging at the fore dashed straight toward the old monk. His blade rose and fell; in an instant, a spray of blood shot through the air, splattering across the plaque! A look of astonishment crossed the old monk's face, but the divine light in his eyes swiftly scattered. Then numerous iron-clad boots trampled over him as they stormed the monastery. Cries of panic and curses erupted inside. In the blink of an eye, every monk was dragged outside, most of them bruised and battered, alongside two corpses. Wei Yuan stood with his hands behind his back, looking up toward the heavens. Beyond the firmament, several gazes were watching this place; seeing that Wei Yuan refused to take even a single step into Kongshan Temple from start to finish, faint hints of disappointment rippled among them. The ancient sanctuary's serene, hollow ambiance was torn to shreds by surging crisscrossing currents of military qi. These soldiers had all fought in battle and seen bloodshed; their military qi reeked heavily of slaughter, each man having claimed the lives of multiple non-human adversaries. In an instant, the ancient sanctuary's spiritual aura was completely shattered. Then, several soldiers were seen escorting a few peasant women into the temple. When they emerged, the women's clothes were disheveled, revealing pale flesh; weeping like pear blossoms bathed in rain, they choked with sobs, as though in the span of entering and exiting, a monstrous atrocity had transpired. The officer leading them inside was none other than a Golden Pellet dharma idol cultivator. Bowing to Wei Yuan, he reported, "My Lord! Though this place appears tranquil and secluded, it secretly harbored common women for lewd and perverse acts—the evidence is ironclad! How shall we handle it? We await Your Lordship's orders." Wei Yuan said nothing. A dharma idol general beside him declared, "Since the evidence is ironclad, proceed according to the law." The Golden Pellet captain replied, "By law, the lecherous monks must be imprisoned, the mountain razed, and the temple leveled." "Then what are you waiting for?" A pack of soldiers, fierce as wolves and tigers, rushed straight into the ancient temple. Every one of them was a Dao Foundation cultivator possessing tremendous physical might; a single full-body charge could knock down an entire gable wall or half a grand hall. In a flash, the entirety of Kongshan Temple was razed to the ground. Then, three Golden Pellet dharma idol cultivators stepped forward, each carrying an item to present before Wei Yuan. One was the master ordination register, recording every registered monk in the monastery. Another was a compact wooden Buddha, barely two feet tall, carved from a tree root. The statue showed the Buddha laughing open-mouthed in an expression of carefree joy, an image not seen in any other temple. The last was a pair of sandalwood incense sticks, one of which was already half-burned. Wei Yuan's insight and vision were now among the rarest under heaven, bolstered further by the Splendor of the Many Realms, which had cataloged the entire Daoist canon of the Palace of Grand Beginning. Thus, with a single sweep of his eyes, Wei Yuan discerned the origins and functions of all three treasures. The ordination register appeared ordinary, merely documenting the background and origins of the monastic brethren, yet it happened to be a karmic treasure. Having one's name inscribed upon it bound one irrevocably to Kongshan Temple. Even if one died out in the world, one would be reincarnated within the temple—equivalent to living another lifetime. Yet gains always came with losses. In Wei Yuan's eyes, being registered here was scarcely different from being a puppet; not only in this life, but for lifetimes to come, one could never break free of Kongshan Temple. Wei Yuan took the ordination register and handed it to the dharma idol general beside him. "Take it and burn it. Do not use mortal fire; use military qi." "Yes, My Lord!" At that moment, atop a distant mountain peak, a skeletal silhouette emerged, glaring wrathfully at Wei Yuan, muttering incoherently. The distance was too great for Hanchan's words to reach Wei Yuan's ears, but Wei Yuan could see the contortions of fury on his face, which instantly restored much of Wei Yuan's Dao heart. Wei Yuan simply stood there, confronting Hanchan from afar—though in truth, he was confronting the golden body still anchored to Hanchan. Having not seen him for a few days, Hanchan had grown even more emaciated, reduced almost entirely to skin and bones. But in Wei Yuan's eyes, the vision was altogether different. The Hanchan Wei Yuan saw was now nothing more than a human hide, its interior blazing with golden light that cast out countless threads woven into that golden body. Behind Wei Yuan, the soldiers had cleared a small square, placing the register in the center. A thousand soldiers formed ranks, their military qi soaring skyward before the general channeled it down to wash over the ordination register. The register instantly burst into flames without any wind, crumbling into a wisp of dark smoke. Hanchan's eyes nearly split with fury as he roared, "Evil beast! You shall die a miserable death!" Wei Yuan merely sneered. By this point, Hanchan was already dead; he simply didn't know it yet. Wei Yuan could hardly describe what state he was in right now—whether he was a soul, a stream of consciousness, or merely a lingering wisp of obsession. None of that mattered anymore. Burning the ordination register meant burning away the karmic bonds tied for ten thousand years. It granted liberation to those who sought it, and forced liberation even upon those who did not—such as Hanchan. Wei Yuan was convinced that for Hanchan, losing his sacred ground of Dharma realization was secondary; losing these junior and senior brothers whom he had driven and dominated for centuries or millennia, whom he could manipulate and oppress at whim—that was what truly struck at his very life. Some people could only live comfortably if they had others beneath their feet to tread upon. The two sticks of sandalwood incense were straightforward enough. They were Buddhist treasures akin to the pure incense in the small shrine of the Pure Land Grotto-Heaven, possessing wondrous faculties such as awakening wisdom, sparking sudden enlightenment in the Buddhist Dharma, and establishing communion with the Buddha Land. They were virtually indispensable for all major rituals. One of the two sticks had already been half consumed; the remainder could still sustain three major rituals. Lighting one was equivalent to having an eminent Scenery Command monk providing Dharma protection. Only at the very end did Wei Yuan's gaze settle upon the wooden Buddha, gazing at it for the space of an incense stick. Within the small temple of the Pure Land, the little monk Liandeng trembled with trepidation. He was utterly reluctant, yet under Wei Yuan's scrutiny, he had no choice but to lean out from the edge of the grotto-heaven and look toward that strange little wooden Buddha. Liandeng had, after all, followed his former master in the Pure Land listening to sermons for many years, seated before the King Buddha himself. Consequently, his knowledge of the Buddhist sect was extraordinarily profound—singular among all the immortal artifact spirits. Right now, it was exceedingly reluctant to look; that object carried tremendous karma, far more than a tiny artifact spirit like it could bear. Yet clearly, karma was a matter for the future, whereas if it shrank back now, Wei Yuan would become an immediate calamity before its eyes. After hesitating for a moment, Liandeng nevertheless explained in detail the origins he had discerned. Wei Yuan picked up the wooden Buddha and inspected it closely. At first, he had merely sensed that the aura of this wooden Buddha was strange, likely an artifact of distinguished heritage. Furthermore, it had been enshrined in the place of honor in the grand hall, right before the seat of the Tathagata, occupying a place more exalted than even the Blue Lamp Before the Buddha. Wei Yuan had taken note and ordered it brought out along with the rest. As for himself, possessing acute innate intuition, he had already sensed that unforeseen perils might arise the moment he set foot within Kongshan Temple's grounds. Very few anomalies could threaten Wei Yuan now, yet the Pure Land's methods were bizarre and insidious. Having felt an omen of warning, he naturally would not step into danger lightly, dispatching only his soldiers into the temple. Across the world, military qi conquered virtually all things; sure enough, the monks were utterly helpless against these soldiers coursing with vigorous blood qi. The entire monastery was suppressed under military qi, unable to stir up even the slightest ripple. Wei Yuan gazed at the wooden Buddha, and the wooden Buddha seemed to gaze back at him. Who could have imagined that this crude wooden Buddha, seemingly carved by an inept craftsman, actually contained within it a Pure Land of the Buddha Realm?