Chapter 36: The Golden Lotus Buddhist Kingdom

Since their departure from the Heavenly Sword Mountain Range, several decades have slipped by. Jiang Xiuyuan was in no hurry to return to the Abode of Returning Ruins. Instead, following a leisurely pace, he traveled westward with Jiang Yiyi and Jiang Xiaobai, traversing the vast expanse of the eastern territories. As their flying vessel cut through the clouds, the landscape below gradually shifted.

The immortal mountains in the eastern region were mostly marked by jagged peaks and soaring sword intent, where the essence of the Dao manifested naturally, exuding a sharp and ethereal aura. However, once they crossed the central mountain range known as the "Spine of Ten Thousand Peaks" and entered the Western Desert, the air that greeted them was distinctly different.

The air was no longer crisp and cool, but carried a hint of dryness and warmth, infused with a strange, tranquil scent of sandalwood. The earth was no longer a tapestry of endless verdant green; vast, ochre-colored deserts alternated with lush oases, and massive crimson rock formations shimmered under the sunlight. Even more striking was that almost every city or oasis of note featured a grand temple at its heart. Golden glazed tiles sparkled in the sun, towering pagodas pierced the sky, and colossal Buddha statues—some seated, some reclining—looked down upon the masses with compassionate expressions.

This was the legendary "Buddhist Kingdom of the Golden Lotus."

Unlike the mainstream Daoist traditions of the East, which favored quiet cultivation and seclusion, the faith of this Buddhist kingdom was worldly and deeply ingrained in every corner of life. Whether mortal or cultivator, their speech and conduct were imbued with a sense of peace, and their brows seemed veiled in a faint, radiant glow. They greeted one another with palms pressed together, uttering "Sadhana," as the entire region remained steeped in a grand and harmonious atmosphere of faith.

"Father, the air here... it’s so warm," Jiang Yiyi, now a graceful young woman, murmured on the deck of the flying vessel. Her eyes were closed, her long lashes trembling slightly. A look of blissful comfort graced her small face. "It’s like... being immersed in warm river water, with so many gentle voices speaking to me."

Jiang Xiuyuan stood with his hands behind his back, his formidable spiritual sense already unfurled, perceiving the nuances of this realm. He could sense the pure spiritual energy permeating the air, but beyond that, a more vast and profound force flowed through it. It was spiritual energy gathered from the prayers, reverence, and faith of billions of living beings—what the Buddhists called "Vow Power."

This force was formless and intangible, yet ubiquitous, like a spiritual ocean covering the entire kingdom. While ordinary cultivators could only vaguely sense that this place was soothing, Jiang Yiyi’s innate talent, awakened by the guidance of an old monk on Earth, was magnified here to an unprecedented degree.

In her perceived world, this realm was not merely composed of mountains and rivers. Bands of golden light—some bright, some dim, some thick, some thin—rose from every city, every village, and even every tent, weaving together into a giant golden net that covered the firmament. Each strand represented the devotion of a believer.

"Yiyi, can you distinguish the source of these 'voices' and 'lights'?" Jiang Xiuyuan asked gently, curious about his daughter’s gift.

Jiang Yiyi tilted her head, "listening" intently for a moment before extending a slender finger toward a massive city on the horizon. "The light there is the brightest, and the voices are the most chaotic. It’s shimmering gold, like a giant golden ball. But... it feels a bit stinging." She turned in another direction, where only a faint silhouette of a mountain stood. "Father, in that direction, there is a light. It isn't very thick, but it’s incredibly, incredibly pure, like moonlight. It makes my heart feel so at peace."

Jiang Xiuyuan looked where she pointed, pushing his spiritual sense to its limit. He faintly discerned an ancient, unassuming temple nestled in the mountains. It lacked the gilded splendor of other halls, yet exuded a solemnity and depth tempered by the passage of time. On the temple plaque, three ancient characters were faintly visible: Little Leiyin Temple.

"Very well, then we shall go to the place that makes you feel at peace," Jiang Xiuyuan smiled, steering the vessel toward the Little Leiyin Temple.

Little Leiyin Temple was one of the most prestigious ancient monasteries in the Buddhist kingdom, rumored to be a place where ancient Buddhas once expounded the scriptures. Yet, it was not built in a bustling capital but chose to reside on a quiet, spiritual mountain, possessing an air of a hermit hidden within the world.

Jiang Xiuyuan stowed the vessel and walked with Jiang Yiyi and Jiang Xiaobai along the ancient bluestone path leading to the temple. On both sides, bodhi trees provided shade, and monks in plain robes could be seen walking slowly, their expressions serene.

Guided by a welcoming monk, Jiang Xiuyuan stated his purpose. He introduced himself as "Layman Jiang," a wandering cultivator who admired the Buddhist teachings of Little Leiyin Temple and hoped to stay and cultivate for a time, promising not to disturb the temple's rules and covering all his own expenses.

Seeing his aura restrained and his demeanor refined, the monk did not refuse. In the Buddhist kingdom, hosting wandering cultivators was common. He arranged for Jiang Xiuyuan’s party to stay in an independent courtyard near the Scripture Library, a secluded spot that suited Jiang Xiuyuan perfectly.

Once settled, Jiang Xiuyuan did not rush to visit the high monks. Instead, he spent his days wandering the temple, observing everything. Jiang Yiyi, having found a paradise, often sat under the bodhi tree in their courtyard, quietly feeling the pure Vow Power of the temple.

One afternoon, Jiang Xiuyuan strolled into a secluded courtyard. In the center stood a massive, ancient bodhi tree, its lush canopy blocking out the sun. Beneath it, an old monk in an old, grey robe was using a simple bamboo broom to sweep the fallen leaves with singular focus.

His movements were slow, as if every bend and every sweep contained a unique rhythm. The leaves gathered and swirled under his broom before settling gently; the entire process was silent, not stirring a speck of dust.

Jiang Xiuyuan halted, his gaze sharpening.

To the naked eye, this old monk appeared utterly mundane, his aura no different from a mortal's. If not for the setting of Little Leiyin Temple, he would likely be mistaken for a common chore monk. However, to Jiang Xiuyuan’s peak-stage Spirit Severing perception, the monk’s existence was like a void. His spiritual sense touched the man and felt as if it had vanished into an abyss, unable to grasp any substance. The old monk stood there, yet he seemed to have merged completely with the bodhi tree, the earth, and the very world itself.

This was the state of "Emptiness."

Jiang Xiuyuan remembered the genius disciple of the Heavenly Sword Sect; the "Sword of No-Self" he pursued might reach such an apex. But the "No-Self" of the sword was meant to merge the self into the blade to achieve the sharpness of unity between man and sword. The "Emptiness" of this old monk, however, was a total letting go and dissolution, a peace returning to extinction. The two states were similar in appearance but fundamentally different in essence.

The old monk seemed to sense his gaze and slowly looked up. His face was etched with wrinkles, his eyes as still as an ancient, deep pool. He gave a slight nod to Jiang Xiuyuan, a silent acknowledgment, before lowering his head to continue his seemingly endless sweeping.

Jiang Xiuyuan learned from a passing young monk that this old monk’s dharma name was "Liaochen." He was a high-ranking ascetic who never participated in temple affairs, spending his days only sweeping under the bodhi tree—a task he had performed for hundreds of years.

Just as Jiang Xiuyuan prepared to leave, a commotion broke out near the temple gate. A group of gorgeously dressed cultivators, surrounded by several manager-like figures, carried crates covered in talismans into the temple, heading straight for a side hall on the east side. Hanging above the entrance of that hall was a gilded plaque: "Ten Thousand Treasure Pavilion."

Jiang Xiuyuan’s brows furrowed imperceptibly. He knew this name well; the Ten Thousand Treasure Pavilion was a top-tier merchant guild spanning several major domains, dealing in everything from pills and artifacts to intelligence. He hadn't expected them to open a branch within a Buddhist holy site.

Piqued by curiosity, he took Jiang Yiyi and Jiang Xiaobai toward the hall. The area in front of the pavilion was already crowded, with countless believers and low-level cultivators watching with fervent eyes. Inside, a manager was shouting:

"A new batch of 'Vajra Protective Buddha Talismans,' collectively blessed by the thirty-six high monks of the Dharma Propagation Hall! Wear this, and receive the protection of Buddha's light, immune to all evil! Only three hundred low-grade spirit stones each!"

"Special offering from the Ten Thousand Treasure Pavilion: 'Mind-Calming Bodhi' prayer beads! Crafted from thousand-year-old bodhi wood, blessed by the Head Abbot for forty-nine days, these help focus the mind and eradicate inner demons! Three thousand low-grade spirit stones per string, first come, first served!"

The prices were exorbitant, yet believers scrambled to buy them, as if they were not purchasing goods, but tickets to the Pure Land.

Jiang Yiyi tugged on Jiang Xiuyuan’s sleeve and whispered in his ear, "Father, the light on those talismans and beads... it feels so fake."

"Oh? How so?" Jiang Xiuyuan asked with interest.

Jiang Yiyi wrinkled her cute nose, distinguishing the sensations carefully. "The golden light on them is like... paint brushed on. It’s bright, but it has no warmth, and it has no 'voice.' And that light is lifeless, as if it could fall off at any moment." She paused, then added in a crisp, certain tone:

"It is nowhere near as good as the broom of the sweeping grandpa from earlier. The 'light' on his broom is very, very faint, but it is alive, and it is warm."

Hearing this, a spark of realization flashed in Jiang Xiuyuan’s eyes. He took one last look at the glittering, noisy Ten Thousand Treasure Pavilion, then glanced back toward the lonely, silent figure under the distant bodhi tree.

On one side was faith with a price tag; on the other, silent, selfless practice.

This Buddhist Kingdom of the Golden Lotus was indeed an interesting place.

Jiang Xiuyuan walked along the bustling streets, his spiritual sense spreading out like mercury, covering the market at the foot of Little Leiyin Temple.

This was a microcosm of the "faith economy" of the Golden Lotus Buddhist Kingdom.

"Premium Mind-Calming Incense, from the Ten Thousand Treasure Pavilion! Light one stick and receive the Buddha's blessing, ensuring peace of mind for three days! Only one hundred low-grade spirit stones!"

"Consecrated Amulets, hand-drawn by Master Liu, capable of blocking a full-force strike from a Qi-refining cultivator! Five hundred low-grade spirit stones each, honest prices!"

"Do you want your child to join Little Leiyin Temple? Purchase our 'Wisdom Vow Lamp' to increase their affinity with the Buddha!"

Cries of hawkers rose and fell. The dazzling array of artifacts, pills, and talismans were all linked to "Buddha," and all linked to "money."

Jiang Xiuyuan watched those pious, even fanatical believers, who would empty their hard-earned spirit stones for a vague "blessing" or "affinity." A complex, indescribable light flickered in his eyes.

It was not that he did not believe in Buddha.

In the depths of his memory lay a figure who, though gaunt and skeletal, was more majestic than any god or Buddha he had ever seen. He thought of the nameless old monk at the ancient temple by the Ganges on Earth.

To purify the [Eye of Brahma] and save Yiyi from the corruption of inner demons, that old monk had spent three thousand years of cultivation to practice the "Self-Sacrificing Buddhist Path." Chanting the grand, compassionate vow, "If I do not enter hell, who will?" he had calmly embraced the karmic burden of billions of lives, turning himself into ashes.

That was the first time Jiang Xiuyuan had witnessed the ultimate of another Path in a living being—the ultimate "Emptiness," the ultimate "Compassion." That debt of gratitude was as heavy as Mount Sumeru.

Because of this, he held such Buddhist teachings in awe.

But what of this Golden Lotus Buddhist Kingdom?

"Kneeling before the Buddha for three thousand years, not seeking Buddhahood, but only money." A cold sneer rose in Jiang Xiuyuan’s heart; this mortal jest had become a bloody reality here.

"If that old monk were to see the Buddhist kingdom of today, I wonder what he would think? The Path he guarded should not be like this."

Walking out of the Ten Thousand Treasure Pavilion, the curve of Jiang Xiuyuan’s lips grew colder.

"Using the prayers of the masses to forge the profit of merchants. What a fine Buddhist Kingdom of the Golden Lotus, what a fine Ten Thousand Treasure Pavilion."

He looked up at the glittering Little Leiyin Temple on the mountaintop. His gaze seemed to pierce through time and space, seeing once more the old monk who had perished smiling amidst the karmic fire.

"Old monk, you proved the Path with your own life and showed me the compassion of the Buddha. Today, I shall use my own Path to reclaim the honor of your 'Buddha' in this kingdom tainted by gold."