Chapter 37: Discussing Immortality Beneath the Bodhi Tree

The next morning, as the first rays of dawn pierced the mist and spilled onto the leaves of the ancient Bodhi tree, staining them a warm gold, Jiang Xiuyuan arrived at the secluded courtyard once more, carrying a set of exquisite tea ware.

The old monk, Liaochen, was still there, as constant as a statue from time immemorial, repeating the motions of the day before. In his world, there seemed to be nothing but the broom, the fallen leaves, and the small patch of earth beneath his feet.

Jiang Xiuyuan did not disturb him. He simply sat at the stone table beneath the tree, unhurriedly taking out his own spring water and igniting a small cluster of gentle spiritual fire to begin brewing tea. The leaves he used were a mutated spiritual variety of Da Hong Pao, cultivated using the immortal techniques of Penglai and brought from his home on Earth.

As the water boiled, a bold, mellow rock-scented tea aroma, mingled with pure spiritual energy, instantly permeated the air. This fragrance was vastly different from the ubiquitous sandalwood of the Buddhist realm; it did not seek tranquility, but instead carried a peculiar power that awakened the soul and invigorated the spirit.

Liaochen, who had been sweeping, paused for the first time. He slowly raised his head, and in his eyes, previously as still as an ancient well, ripples finally appeared. His gaze settled on Jiang Xiuyuan and the pot of tea emitting that exotic fragrance.

Jiang Xiuyuan smiled slightly, poured the first steaming infusion into a cup, and made a gesture of invitation to the old monk.

Liaochen remained silent for a moment, then finally set down his broom, walked slowly to the stone table, and sat. He lifted the cup, but instead of drinking immediately, he first inhaled the aroma, then observed its color, and only then drained the amber liquid.

As the tea slid down his throat, a surge of warmth rushed through his limbs and bones. It was as if a pebble had been dropped into the tranquil pool of Liaochen’s body, stirring up a thousand waves. He closed his eyes, and only after a long while did he let out a long breath—a breath that contained a faint, lingering trace of worldly vitality.

"Good tea," he spoke, his voice hoarse and ancient, like two stones grinding together. "The essence of this tea is not of this realm. Benefactor... you are not of this world either, are you?"

Jiang Xiuyuan felt a slight jolt of surprise. He had thought his concealment flawless, yet he had been seen through by a single cup of tea. However, he remained calm on the surface and replied candidly, "Master has sharp eyes. I come from a distant star system; by chance, I have drifted to this place."

Liaochen nodded, appearing unsurprised. "There is a 'Dao' within you, Benefactor, the likes of which I have never seen. It does not seek heaven and earth, nor does it worship ghosts or gods, yet it is tenacious and filled with... the spirit of vitality and heritage. I would call it the 'Dao of Humanity'."

Jiang Xiuyuan bowed his head in respect.

"You flatter me, Master," Jiang Xiuyuan said, pouring another cup for him. "My Dao is merely a quest for longevity, the protection of my family, and the exploration of the unknown. It is your 'Zen of Emptiness' that leaves me in awe."

"Longevity..." Liaochen murmured the word, a complex emotion flitting through his clouded eyes. "Does the Benefactor know that, in the eyes of Buddhism, longevity is but an endless sea of suffering? To live a life as a human is to taste the pains of birth, aging, sickness, and death—the pain of parting with loved ones, the pain of being with those we loathe, and the pain of unfulfilled desires. To achieve longevity is merely to extend these eight sufferings infinitely, in an endless, repeating cycle. Only by seeing through the illusions, transcending reincarnation, and returning to silence can one find true Great Freedom and Great Liberation."

A debate spanning two different worldviews began quietly under the Bodhi tree over a cup of clear tea.

Jiang Xiuyuan did not refute him, but spoke calmly: "Where I come from, life is short, lasting no more than a century. It is precisely because it is short that we cherish it so dearly. Our predecessors did not seek personal transcendence; instead, they carved their wisdom and spirit into classics, infused them into their bloodlines, and passed them down through generations.

"Predecessors plant the trees, and descendants enjoy the shade. The spark of civilization is thus sustained and grows stronger through this passing of the torch. We explore the star-filled seas and pursue the origins of the universe. The meaning of life lies not in escaping suffering, but in facing it, understanding it, and in the process, expanding the boundaries of civilization into the vast unknown. Longevity, for us, is to see further, to walk longer, and to serve as guardians and witnesses to the continuity of civilization."

Liaochen listened quietly, his eyes showing alternating flashes of confusion and understanding. He spoke of Buddhist cause and effect, the karmic retribution of three lives, and the importance of letting go of the ego to save all sentient beings. Jiang Xiuyuan spoke of Earth’s scientific logic, the evolution of civilization, and the emphasis on individual value and collective heritage.

One sought inward, pursuing the ultimate silence of the spirit. The other explored outward, pursuing the eternal continuity of matter and civilization.

These two philosophies, like two mighty, rushing rivers, converged here, stirring up brilliant and profound waves. This debate had no victor, only exchange and validation. It was at times intense, at times peaceful, stretching from dawn to dusk, and from dusk to dawn. Sometimes they would sit in silence for days, clashing only with the resonance of their Dao; at other times, they would talk with such fervor that a single discussion would last for months.

Time passed in the blink of an eye.

Throughout these days of debate, Jiang Xiuyuan’s observation of the Buddhist realm grew increasingly deep. His consciousness, like an invisible net, enveloped the Lesser Leiyin Temple, uncovering the complete operation chain of the "Merit Business" run by the Wanbao Pavilion.

As he had initially suspected, the Wanbao Pavilion had reached a deep cooperation with the elders of the "Dharma Propagation Sect," led by the "Hall of Dharma." The Wanbao Pavilion was responsible for providing raw materials like jade and wood, and utilizing its commercial channels for promotion and sales. Meanwhile, the elders of the Hall of Dharma would hold grand Dharma assemblies, gathering dozens or even hundreds of monks to collectively chant and bestow blessings upon these "commodities."

This blessing was less an infusion of Buddhist dharma and more of a factory-line process. The monks used their own cultivation to drive Buddhist techniques, attaching a thread of Buddhist essence to the objects to form a layer of "Buddha light" that appeared solemn and dignified. This light might have had a minor, soothing effect on mortals, but it was essentially rootless, dissipating after a time, let alone having the power to ward off true evil or illness.

The massive profits from these sales were largely taken by the Wanbao Pavilion, while the remainder was donated to the Lesser Leiyin Temple as "Incense Merit Money," used for the temple’s repairs, expansion, and the living expenses of the monks in the Dharma Propagation Sect.

This business turned the most precious, devout hearts of the believers into cold strings of spiritual stone figures. Faith, here, was precisely quantified and packaged as a commodity.

Under the Bodhi tree, Liaochen seemed to sense the fluctuation in Jiang Xiuyuan’s heart. He slowly opened his eyes and asked, "Benefactor, is your heart unsettled?"

Jiang Xiuyuan remained silent for a moment, then transmitted the scene from the foot of the mountain to Liaochen through his divine sense.

After seeing it, Liaochen let out a long sigh, pressed his palms together, and whispered, "Amitabha." In his eyes, there was a trace of compassion, and a hint of helplessness. "The Dharma Propagation sect within the temple believes that this act can gather more incense, glorify the Buddha, and give the faithful a place to anchor their hearts. It is considered a merit."

Jiang Xiuyuan shook his head, his gaze turning sharp: "Trading false hope for real wealth is not merit; it is deception. If faith can be bought and sold, what, then, is the difference between a Buddha and a demon?"

He set down his teacup, stood up, and gazed at the bustling, noisy market at the foot of the mountain, a flicker of unprecedented resolve crossing his eyes.

"Master, I have a method that might... allow this light of the Buddha to truly 'illuminate' all sentient beings." Deep down, Jiang Xiuyuan still wanted to do something for the nameless monks of Earth.