Chapter Eight: Enlightenment from Within

Hua Sheng settled into the Great Thousand Zen Temple. Whenever he inquired about the whereabouts of the Ruyi Golden Cudgel, Master Ruokong would always respond with his characteristic smile and then slowly say:
“Have you finished your vegetarian meal, benefactor?”
Or he might say, “The weather is splendid today, benefactor. Don’t these auspicious clouds remind you of those from your childhood?”
Or perhaps, “Look at the sunset glow, benefactor; surely it is the Buddha’s radiant light passing through.”

So much so that Hua Sheng seriously suspected that the Golden Cudgel, lent to him by the Victorious Fighting Buddha Sun Wukong, had been appropriated by this monk for temple repairs, serving as a mere pillar.

Hua Sheng knew that only after the hundred-day period ended would Ruokong answer directly about the cudgel.

Each day, the young novice Buxu would prepare herbal medicine for him. With the help of these remedies, Hua Sheng’s health noticeably improved; his wounds healed gradually, leaving no scars behind.

With leisure at hand, Hua Sheng often wandered around the Great Thousand Zen Temple. Above the doors of every Buddha hall hung golden plaques, while the doors themselves were intricately carved with Buddha statues and Buddhist legends, alongside floral patterns, presenting an aura of magnificent splendor.

Like many temples, the Great Hero Hall was the largest Buddha hall within the temple, where monks gathered each morning to chant scriptures aloud. Upon entering, three grand Buddha statues came into view, bare-chested and seated in a lotus posture. Their faces bore gentle smiles, exquisitely carved with such vividness that Hua Sheng felt they might greet him at any moment.

Of course, the temple also housed the Bodhisattva Hall, dedicated to Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva. This revered figure, a key founder of the Sacred Peace Realm, stood silently, her face adorned with a faint expression of compassion.

“To universally save all beings, to relieve suffering and hardship.”

Every time Hua Sheng gazed upon Avalokiteshvara’s statue, he recalled the stories Ruokong had told about the Sacred Peace Realm. He had once thought it was a secluded fairyland, a peach blossom spring where immortals, spirits, and mortals coexisted.

But upon reflection, he realized that the footsteps he had taken covered only a tiny fraction of this realm. Ruokong had explained that the land was divided into five provinces: Lingwei Yang in the East, Chihao Nu in the South, Hanshu Niu at the center, Baizhao Ju in the West, and Yeguang Ji in the North. The names were unfamiliar in some cases, though others he had occasionally heard of.

For instance, he knew that the Academy of Arcane Arts was located in Lingwei Yang, the eastern province, and that was the area he was most familiar with. As for Yeguang Ji in the north, he vaguely remembered that during the Heavenly Eye Trial at the academy, he had visited Mount Guangji, which if memory served correctly, lay within Yeguang Ji province.

Now, the Great Thousand Zen Temple where he resided was situated in the central Hanshu Niu province.

Beyond these, many places remained unexplored by him. What, truly, was the Sacred Peace Realm?

His prior understanding was evidently far from the full reality.

If Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva’s presence held such decisive significance for the realm, why had she left behind only a small Zen temple here? No, the temple itself might not be small, but compared to the vastness of the Sacred Peace Realm, it was but a speck easily overlooked.

Its presence or absence here seemed almost irrelevant. Yet Avalokiteshvara not only left this temple but also entrusted the “Sandalwood Merit Buddha,” the last disciple of Tang Sanzang, Master Ruokong himself.

What, then, was the Great Thousand Zen Temple’s meaning to Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva?

Sigh.

At this thought, Hua Sheng chastised himself for overthinking. For a Bodhisattva, why must one seek meaning in their deeds? Perhaps what Master Ruokong said was true.

The Buddha’s light shines everywhere.

What Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva has done is to ensure that any place in the world may witness the Buddha’s light.

Accustomed to the temple’s serene life, Hua Sheng spent his days helping monks chop wood and fetch water. Having sparred somewhat with the warrior monks before, they showed him a measure of respect.

Apart from necessary chores, his days consisted mostly of sweeping, listening to sutras, meditating, then listening again, then meditating again.

A hundred days was neither long nor short. Gradually, Hua Sheng became accustomed to the temple’s incense, the Zen tea, the vegetarian meals, and the unique tranquility of monastic life.

Sometimes, donning loose Zen robes, he would sit on the temple steps, staring absentmindedly at the ancient incense burner in the courtyard.

Silence enveloped the surroundings so completely that one could almost hear the passage of time.

Occasionally, birdsong and the rustling of countless leaves in the mountain breeze drifted through, like crisp, beautiful melodies and the footsteps of a free dance.

Hua Sheng realized that the temple’s Buddhist barrier did not isolate them from the world entirely—only what needed to be isolated was kept out.

What exactly that was?

Perhaps only what was deemed meaningless.

Or perhaps merely a mortal heart.

It was on the thirty-third day at the temple. Early morning, Hua Sheng held a long broom, sweeping the fallen leaves step by step.

Sunlight bathed the Great Thousand Zen Temple, its warmth dispelling some chill from the mountain wind—a blessing especially precious in the depths of winter.

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Hua Sheng was enveloped by the warmth and the melodious chanting drifting through the air, sweeping away the withered leaves one stair at a time. The more he swept, the deeper his sense of peace grew.

Thinking of the power contained within those scriptures, he suddenly thought of Weiyu, the girl who had taken form from his letter.

Weiyu was originally just the words on a letter, lacking any physical form. If she were to perish, would she have a soul afterward?

If consciousness existed, any form could be shaped or transformed through immortal arts. But once consciousness dissipated, nothing would remain.

Weiyu was the first girl Hua Sheng had ever truly cared for. Despite everything, he could not hide the undeniable past in his heart.

Though the superintelligent entity “Strawberry” had not yet appeared, and the shadowy Weiyu had not yet come into being, even the letter that would become her had yet to be written, the outcome was already set.

Weiyu’s future was Hua Sheng’s past, and thus unchangeable.

Through the Venus Veil, he had glimpsed the possible futures of the world. If Little Strawberry survived, would the superintelligent entity arise?

Regardless of its existence, Weiyu had already vanished. What remained to be changed was whether she had ever existed in this world.

At this point, Hua Sheng resolved that he must prevent the birth of the superintelligent entity—then Weiyu would never exist.

Since the future he had seen no longer included her, it was time to say farewell.

The Tao gives birth to One. In a sense, One is the heart.

When someone leaves you, you must bid farewell to the feelings born within your heart.

Whether or not the other person says goodbye, you must say farewell to your own heart.

In this world, the only certainty that stays with you until the end of your life is your own heart.

The heart gives rise to all things. The heart feels all things.

Hua Sheng told himself that Weiyu might forever remain a wound of guilt he could never heal.

“Benefactor, feeling downcast?”

Master Ruokong’s voice came from beside him.

“No, it’s nothing,” Hua Sheng hurriedly wiped away a tear.

Just as he was about to stand, Ruokong lifted his robe and sat down on the stone steps.

“Abbot, your splendid robe is so precious—how can you sit on the stone steps?”

“Why not?”

“You should first get a reed mat and sit on that.”

Ruokong smiled, “If there is Buddha in the heart, wherever you sit will be a reed mat.”

Hua Sheng sighed and lowered his head.

Ruokong observed, “Still troubled in your heart, benefactor? I thought by now you would have grown accustomed to this place.”

“It’s not that I’m not used to it. I’m just thinking about the Great Universe Defense War before I came here.”

“Feel free to speak. Perhaps I can help untangle your knot.”

After some thought, Hua Sheng recounted the story of Weiyu and the Venus Veil to Ruokong.

Ruokong pondered silently for a long time, saying nothing.

Only then did Hua Sheng realize perhaps it was inappropriate to discuss his feelings with a monk and hurriedly added, “Abbot, these are my private troubles. I wouldn’t want to trouble you...”

Unexpectedly, Ruokong replied, “The shadowy one, the Weiyu you speak of, she was not entirely wrong.”

Hua Sheng felt those words struck a chord deep within.

“You think so too, even though she planned to harm billions of lives?”

“No. We saw everyone alive when we arrived, but before shadowy Weiyu came, we did not see any living beings. So, from her perspective, she was saving people,” Ruokong explained. “That does not mean she did not commit evil. She intended harm, and those beings she targeted could have lived peaceful lives. That’s why neither you nor the Academy of Arcane Arts were entirely wrong.”

He continued, “You two, one seeking the next life, the other this life. People say those who err must be punished, but shadowy Weiyu made the world bear punishment for crimes not yet committed.”

“Then was what she did right or wrong?”

“Benefactor, right and wrong are not absolute. They depend on the judge, not the one involved.”

“What is your view, Abbot?”

“I believe it is too soon to judge right or wrong, for the matter is not yet concluded.”

“How so?”

“The verdict on shadowy Weiyu depends on what we who remain now choose to do. If we allow disaster to unfold, then your destruction of her is wrong, gravely so. Yet she is also at fault, for she could have crushed you but hesitated.”

Ruokong said, “But if we prevent the calamity destined for the mortal realm, then at least your and shadowy Weiyu’s actions hold meaning.”

“And right and wrong?”

“If there is meaning, why concern oneself with right or wrong?” Ruokong looked up at the drifting clouds. “Shadowy Weiyu’s nonexistence is precisely her reason for existing.”

Hua Sheng lowered his head, contemplating these words.

Ruokong added, “Your suffering, I believe the Buddha knows it.”

“The Buddha knows?” At these words, images of the Victorious Fighting Buddha and a single incense stick flickered before Hua Sheng’s eyes.

“The Buddha knows the suffering of all beings and never abandons them. Naturally, he knows your pain,” Ruokong said. “That is why I dedicate myself to spreading the Dharma, striving to save beings from the sea of suffering.”

“There is so much suffering in this world. How can this be achieved?”

“Worldly affairs are impermanent, yet impermanence itself is constant. To accomplish the impossible, the first step must begin with faith,” Ruokong smiled. “Do you know, benefactor, that cause and effect also possess weight?”

He pulled a corner of his splendid robe taut, flattening it, then placed a small stone on each side. “These two stones represent the past and the future. Originally, they do not interfere with each other—everything is calm and serene.”

Then, Ruokong picked up a slightly larger stone and placed it between the two smaller ones. The robe bowed under the weight of the larger stone, causing the two smaller stones to slide toward the depression, settling on either side of the large stone.

He continued, “Just as a mass heavy enough will bend space, sometimes cause and effect have ‘weight.’ A sufficiently powerful effect can not only change the future but occasionally alter the past. Perhaps the apocalypse you mentioned is inevitable. What we can change is how it occurs.”

“But isn’t the future determined by the past?”

“Benefactor, if you think about it yourself, you’ll find many powerful futures create their own pasts to ensure their occurrence.”

“Like fate?”

“That sounds like fate. But compared to fate, such a powerful effect is not unconquerable.”

“Do you think there is a way, Abbot?”

Ruokong picked up an even heavier stone and placed it before the others, causing the three smaller stones to slide toward the new large one. He said, “Before a powerful effect transpires, create an even stronger cause.”

“You mean starting now?”

“Now is fine. The past, too.”

Hua Sheng was puzzled. “But the past is past.”

“Exactly why you must awaken.”

“How to awaken?”

“From emptiness, to awakening,” Ruokong smiled. “First empty yourself, then awaken. Tell yourself, even without Weiyu, without the Golden Cudgel, without anything to rely on, you will not run away.”