The Lotus Temple was situated in the State of Zhao, a lineage of the Dharmakaya. The State of Zhao revered the Buddha and was home to numerous temples. Among its four hundred and sixty-one temples of all ranks, the Lotus Temple was counted among the top ten, having annexed vast tracts of land to sustain over ten thousand monks.
Minghui rode the wind across the sprawling temple fields below the mountain. Down on the ground, emaciated tenant farmers threw down their farming tools one after another and hurried to kowtow.
“Auspicious blessings, Master! Auspicious blessings, Master!”
Minghui acted as though he had heard nothing, descending toward the magnificent golden hall upon the mountain. Inside, countless candles and sticks of golden incense burned, filling the air with dense smoke that spilled through the cracks of the steps and windows like a soft, graceful white waterfall. This golden hall consumed an astonishing amount of fat, oils, and timber each year; only a grand temple such as this could afford to maintain it.
At the very head of the hall sat, knelt, and lay several naked women, surrounded by scattered fine brocades and robes. Young and beautiful, they encircled a small child who appeared five or six years old—clever, lovely, and carved as if from fine jade. He was cradled against one of the women, suckling milk. All around, candlelight flickered as young maidens hurried to and fro, each carrying an oil jug to replenish the lamps.
As the scent of animal fat and incense enveloped him, Minghui hastily dropped to his knees and bowed, saying respectfully, “Minghui pays respects to Master! May Master enjoy auspicious blessings for a hundred lifetimes, ever abounding in great compassion and great joy, achieving the Dharmakaya golden body, immortal and imperishable!”
Suckling milk, the child cast a sinister sidelong glance at him. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly gentle and melodious, like a sacred chant echoing through the great hall. The maidens on both sides immediately dropped to their knees as he spoke: “Little Minghui, you were sent to escort Lord Murong. Why have you scurried back?”
“This lowly one was wronged!”
Minghui knocked his head against the floor in rapid, resounding thuds. After recounting the entire tale from beginning to end, he saw the child widen his eyes and release the breast. Milk dripping from his mouth, the child cursed, “Useless trash! Whenever you stir up trouble, all you do is run back home. Present that golden palace!”
Minghui hastily invoked the golden palace. It drifted out from his sleeve, teetering. At first only the size of a palm, it soon shifted its form until it was as tall as a man, resembling a small table, though it trembled precariously, riddled with cracks.
The child scrutinized it for a while, an unusual look crossing his face. In a childish voice, he murmured, “Curious indeed. Its status is exceedingly high, yet it carries no fierce, baleful aura... It must be some fellow Daoist of the immortal path, yet unfamiliar to me.”
This child was naturally Master Minghui’s master, Jinlian Maha—the patriarch of the Lotus Sect. He had attained the rank of Maha three hundred years ago and lived through seven reincarnations. Having perfected his Shakya arts, he was merely a single step away from the Dharmakaya, making him one of the paramount figures in the State of Zhao.
Shakya cultivation differed vastly from the immortal path. The immortal path began with the Xuanjing Wheel; once established, practitioners could cast immortal arts. In contrast, the monk realm of Shakya cultivation spanned both Embryonic Breathing and Qi Refinement, granting nothing more than sinews of steel and bones of iron. When they broke through to become a Master, they were slightly superior to Foundation Establishment cultivators of the immortal path. Advancing further to Lianmin left them slightly inferior to Purple Palace cultivators, while a Maha could not rival a Golden Core, being only slightly stronger than a Purple Palace. The disparity felt strange and asymmetric at every stage.
Now, looking upon the polychromatic light in the hall, Jinlian Maha felt a surge of excitement. Faintly sensing a cool, profound spiritual essence, he was overjoyed and thought to himself, *This Minghui is a mere Master, yet he spied upon a Golden Core without dying. Could it be that this Golden Core immortal cultivator ran into trouble and is on the verge of death? I have been a Maha for seven full lifetimes, just a sliver away from the Dharmakaya. It seems my karmic opportunity has arrived! Hahaha!*
Jinlian Maha had cultivated through seven lifetimes as a Maha, placing his prowess on par with the peak of the Purple Palace. Gripped by mounting ambition, he made up his mind. Speaking without the slightest hesitation or courtesy, he declared bluntly, “Even if it is a Golden Core, what of it? Though I may not match him in open battle, unraveling a single strand of his fate is no trouble at all. Bring that magical apparatus forward!”
He had calculated shrewdly: if this Golden Core was in a compromised state, merely peering into things would hardly lead to disaster. Moreover, with a Dharmakaya Shakya cultivator backing him, nothing truly catastrophic could happen. Hence, he boldly took everything upon himself with grand bravado.
Hearing this, Minghui was overjoyed. He brought the golden palace forward. Jinlian Maha formed hand seals and slowly closed his eyes, his babyish face dripping with contempt. The polychromatic light inside the golden palace gradually weakened, transferring into his gesturing hands.
Only after dozens of breaths did the sneer fade from the Maha’s face. His expression grew solemn, his fingers pinching through incantations as he brought his true abilities to bear. Minghui waited for quite a while, but complete silence fell from above. He could not resist stealing a glance, only to see Jinlian Maha drenched in sweat, muttering incessantly. Minghui paled in terror and promptly dropped to his knees, praying fervently in his heart, *This has nothing to do with me... nothing to do with me at all... You great masters clash, leave this lowly one out of it! Spare my life, spare my life!*
While Minghui kept his head down in terrified silence, Jinlian Maha was already trembling violently. The polychromatic light in the golden palace had vanished entirely, while the seal in his hands glowed with crystalline, prismatic radiance. Endless darkness engulfed his vision; his dharmic power drained uncontrollably toward his hands, and his aura weakened wave after wave. At last, a flash of brightness appeared before his eyes.
“What is this...?”
***
Beneath the swirling grey clouds and mist, the earth lay dark and somber. Lu Jiangxian sat beside a stone table, pinching a flickering golden light between his fingers, feeling faintly exasperated.
“I have seen people who do not fear death, but never someone who rushes headlong toward it like this...”
Lu Jiangxian had sensed the disturbance earlier and knew that Minghui was probing him. Although Lu Jiangxian could not leave this magical mirror, Minghui had tied himself into this thread of fate and crashed right in. Had this happened right after he had just awakened, he might have had no way to deal with him; but after decades of cultivating shamanic and immortal arts, Lu Jiangxian could thoroughly suppress him by relying on the magical mirror’s high plane of existence.
“I spared your life earlier for fear of inviting trouble, yet you dare provoke me again like this...”
Lu Jiangxian’s Taiyin Mysterious Light currently possessed only the might of the Foundation Establishment peak, yet in terms of status and realm, it was terrifyingly exalted. So long as he did not step outside the magical mirror, no one could divine his secrets. As for cultivators who tried to deduce his presence through talisman qi, he could easily cause them to suffer a fatal backlash.
“Still, this Jinlian Maha likely has someone behind him as well. If I kill him and draw the scrutiny of a Dharmakaya World Honored One, that would be troublesome!”
Frowning, a thought struck him, and he had an idea. Tapping lightly on the table, he conjured a boundless palace forged from white jade, covered on all sides with intricate incantations—the very grand hall of the Yuehua Yuan Mansion from Li Jiangqun’s memories. High upon the dais, he sat looking downward.
*With my current power, I can pull this fellow’s spiritual soul into the mirror for the time it takes an incense stick to burn. I might as well use this chance to pry some information out of him, then sever this wisp of his soul so he remembers nothing.*
After observing for a moment, Lu Jiangxian grasped the golden light and made his decision, tossing it forward. Beams of moon essence immediately coalesced, taking the form of a five- or six-year-old child. Looking obedient and cute, draped in a robe, he knelt upon the white jade flagstones of the hall.
“Who goes there?”
Jinlian Maha opened his eyes in a daze. Looking around, he instantly sensed that something was amiss. He hurriedly channeled his cultivation, only to find himself completely empty inside, without a single shred of dharmic power. He blanched in sheer terror.
Looking up again, he saw a man seated high above, his visage blazing with dazzling radiance that stung the eyes, his robes billowing with an ethereal, immortal grace. Jinlian Maha cowered and bowed his head, terror raging in his heart:
*This...! To capture me relying solely on a single strand of fate—this is definitely no Golden Core immortal cultivator! This is an Immortal... Curse it, how can there still be an Immortal lingering in the mortal world today?! Damned Minghui, dragging me into offending an old monster like this...*
Though thoughts raced frantically through his mind, Jinlian Maha dared not hesitate. In a plaintive voice, he cried, “This humble monk is but a Maha serving before the Great Compassion and Joy Lotus World Dharmakaya Honored One. I did not know I was in the presence of an Immortal! I beg the Immortal to show mercy and spare my life...”
Chapter 282