Buddha.
800 Words
"If one sees me in form, or seeks me through sound, such a person walks the wrong path and cannot see the Tathāgata."
If things continued this way, it wouldn't be long before he exhausted his strength and died.
The simplest way to make the monk stop was to give up resistance and transform into the demon he believed Bai Changming to be.
Kneel respectfully, confess all past misdeeds of causing chaos and evil, express sincere repentance and determination to reform, and finally gratefully thank him for sparing your life.
Perhaps due to blood loss, his vision began to blur.
The old monk, eyes closed, recited the scriptures flawlessly, chanting phrases about Dharma and heavenly justice. Characters fell like blades before him.
Why not beg for mercy?
If the answer was "why should I endure being weak," then tomorrow's him would be no different from today's old monk.
Was the distinction between "all beings" merely a matter of strength and species?
Was that lotus pattern merely a clumsy form of pity from the strong towards the weak?
Were the words "compassion" just empty phrases for people to memorize and be recited by monks like him?
...
"With Dao but without skill, skill can still be sought;
With skill but without Dao, one stops at skill."
Monk Nianchu was startled, suddenly opening his eyes: his characters were decaying!
"Oh, now you know to open your eyes." Bai Changming sneered, tearing a "master" character paper in half, whistling, and making rows of scriptures obediently advance. He didn’t hesitate to tear them up in stacks.
Monk Nianchu was terrified, chanting his spells again, but unable to move. The incense burner full of Lengyan incense still burned, but had no effect.
Bai Changming stood up, his powers returning, familiar energy coursing through his body, wounds healed, his hair turning silver-white like snow on high mountains.
Without blinking, he tore another "righteousness" character. The golden characters turned into yellow paper scraps.
"You... how is this possible?! This was blessed by Master Jing An... You are a demon, impossible, this is impossible! This goes against Buddhist teachings..."
"And you have the nerve to talk about Buddhism." Bai Changming snapped the Lengyan incense in two.
Standing there, facing a statue of the Tathāgata Buddha.
Eyes lowered in compassion, serene and peaceful.
When he first entered the room, Monk Nianchu sat on the cushion with stern eyes and harsh words. A battle of strength versus weakness between man and demon ensued.
Further inside, higher up, stood a silent Buddha statue. Bai Changming felt its gaze, time shattering behind him.
Compassion.
A single thought arose, and all beings listened.
He melted into that gaze, dissolving into eternity.
...
"'If one sees me in form, or seeks me through sound, such a person walks the wrong path and cannot see the Tathāgata.' Isn't that what an ancient text says?"
"Monk, you chant Buddha’s name, but you don’t understand Buddha."
Bai Changming moved his hand away from the statue, kneeling on the cushion. Picking up three intact sticks of incense, he bowed three times to the statue, solemn and sincere.
Standing up, he turned to face Monk Nianchu, his gaze as cold as ice.
Pinching a character, his finger brushed over it, transforming it into a dagger. Looking down at the collapsed Monk Nianchu, he pressed the blade to his neck.
Terrified, Monk Nianchu squeezed his eyes shut, a flash of cold light, and he collapsed.
The next day, rumors spread throughout the city that Monk Nianchu of Lin'an Temple had gone mad.
It was said that upon waking from his coma, Monk Nianchu forgot all the Buddhist teachings he had learned, and knew nothing about his experiences. All he did was obsessively repeat: "'If one sees me in form, or seeks me through sound, such a person walks the wrong path and cannot see the Tathāgata.'"
Outside the temple, Bai Changming’s powers returned to their usual level. But his heart was no longer tormented by the "anger" and "emptiness." Though this change was imperceptible to others.
"Your experience has been quite rich." On that day at Lin'an Temple, he used a spell to knock out the monk and read all his memories.
"How convenient. I was just lacking a handy weapon." Bai Changming smiled, storing the spell in his mind.
As he left, intending to end the monk’s life to eliminate future threats, he looked up and saw the Buddha statue watching him, as always, compassionate and serene.
He departed. Anticipating the young monk’s return, he set up a memory-clearing array. When Xiao Ke later bumped into the array, he woke up knowing nothing of what had happened.
Under the winter night sky, the stars shone brightly.
Shuichan, during our separation, I missed you so much. Where are you now?
- Writer
