Chapter 39: A Single Spark Can Start a Prairie Fire; The Way Resides in the Hearts of Men

Inside the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion, on the third floor, the atmosphere in the private room was as heavy as iron.

Steward Liu stood respectfully to the side, not daring to even breathe audibly. In the main seat sat a middle-aged monk draped in a brocade cassock, his face sinister and gloomy. He was no ordinary monk from the Little Thunder Sound Temple; he was the regional head of the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion for the Western Regions of the Golden Lotus Buddha Kingdom, known by the dharma name "Mingli." True to his name, he did not practice the dharma; he practiced profit.

"Are you telling me that a rogue cultivator of unknown origin, setting up a dilapidated stall at the foot of the mountain to sell broken stones and rotten wood, has managed to turn our Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion upside down?" Monk Mingli’s voice was devoid of warmth. He toyed with a string of prayer beads fashioned from top-grade spirit stones, each one worth a fortune.

"My Lord, it is the absolute truth!" Steward Liu broke into a cold sweat. "That thing is devilishly strange! Our men have tried everything—coercion, bribery, even posing as devout believers—but no matter what, once the stone is in our hands, it becomes nothing more than an ordinary rock, showing no reaction at all! Yet in the hands of those wretched, poor rogue cultivators, it actually emits the light of the Buddha!"

"Oh?" Monk Mingli finally stopped turning his beads, a flicker of greed and suspicion crossing his eyes. "It cannot be seized, only activated by specific individuals? That sounds like some ancient technique passed down through bloodlines or soul imprints. 'Reflecting the true heart, firming the path'... Hmph, charlatanry!"

Steward Liu quickly added, "Master, that is not the most terrifying part. It is the speed at which it is spreading! This afternoon, that stall was deserted, but just a moment ago, I saw with my own eyes that at least a hundred people were crowding around it! And these are all low-level cultivators who have previously been unable to afford the dharma artifacts of our Pavilion!"

Just as Steward Liu described, the scene before Jiang Xiuyuan’s stall was quite different.

Jiang Xiuyuan sat quietly, appearing completely out of place amidst the bustling market. He was like a true ascetic, his expression calm and his gaze distant.

His thoughts drifted back to the ancient temple in Varanasi. Three days of meditation, the knocking of inner demons at his door, and finally the sacrifice of the old monk—it had all been to ensure the safety of Yiyi and the purification of the [Eye of Brahma]. That purified treasure now lay quietly in his storage ring, emitting a pure light, as if it were the gentle eyes of the old monk.

"The mirror is cleansed; please, seeker... look within yourself."

The old monk’s final words still echoed in his ears.

"Yes, look within one's own heart," Jiang Xiuyuan murmured to himself, looking at the pebble before him. "That is the true essence of the dharma, not buying fake solace with money."

Just then, a staggering figure caught his attention.

It was an old woman with white hair, her clothes washed until they were faded, her face etched with the scars of wind and frost. She clutched a cloth bag tightly, which seemed to contain all her worldly possessions.

Though her wrinkled face was aged, it was now filled with a near-sacred hope. She clutched a jade Buddha, weeping as she muttered, "Buddha preserve us, please save my grandson... I beg you, I will kowtow to you..."

Her grandson lived in the slums at the foot of the mountain and had contracted a mortal illness that defied all medicine. This jade Buddha was her final hope.

Trembling, the old woman took the cloth bag from her bosom and poured out a dozen low-grade spirit stones, pleading, "Little Immortal Master, this is all I have, please, have mercy..."

"Get out, get out! Rules are rules!" the shop assistant waved her away impatiently, as if shooing a fly.

The last glimmer of light in the old woman’s dim eyes flickered out. She turned away, heartbroken, every step seeming to drain the last of her strength.

She noticed Jiang Xiuyuan in the corner and the wooden sign in front of him that read: "Buddha of the True Heart, Follow the Fated."

Jiang Xiuyuan picked up a pebble and handed it to her, his voice gentle yet carrying an unquestionable strength: "Grandmother, take this. It costs nothing."

"This... how can I?"

"I say it is fine." Jiang Xiuyuan placed the stone in her hand. "When you return, do not think of anything else. Hold it, watch your grandson quietly, and think of the person you most hope he will become. The more sincere and pure your thoughts, the more this 'Buddha of the True Heart' will give you the answer."

He remembered the old monk, who had asked him for no reward either. True compassion was never a transaction.

Feeling the warmth of the stone in her hand and the sincerity in Jiang Xiuyuan’s words, the old woman felt as if she had grasped a lifeline. She bowed deeply to Jiang Xiuyuan, tears falling once more: "Thank you... thank you, kind soul!"

She clutched the "Buddha of the True Heart" tightly and turned to leave, her steps surprisingly firmer than when she arrived.

Jiang Xiuyuan watched her go with a calm expression.

The spread of a story is often faster than the wind.

The old woman who received the first "Buddha of the True Heart" returned home and, following Jiang Xiuyuan’s instructions, clutched the warm pebble. Her heart was no longer filled with desperate pleading, but with the purest expectation for her grandson—she hoped he would be safe, healthy, and possess a righteous and kind heart, even if he could never walk the path of immortality.

The moment her sincere grandmotherly love reached its peak, the pebble in her hand suddenly shone with a soft yet incredibly clear white light! The light enveloped her grandson sleeping on the bed, and the child’s tightly furrowed brow slowly smoothed out, his breathing becoming steady and strong.

This miraculous scene was seen by a neighbor who had come to visit.

One told ten, ten told a hundred.

"Have you heard? There is a god-like man at the foot of the mountain. The 'Buddha of the True Heart' he gives requires no spirit stones, only a sincere heart!"

"That's not all! Butcher Zhang’s son has been stuck at the third level of Qi Refining for five years. He got one today, went back to meditate, and broke through on the spot! He said the Buddha-light allowed him to see through the inner demons that had plagued him all along!"

"And Pharmacist Li, who always blew up his furnace when refining alchemy—he held a 'Buddha of the True Heart' and felt a clarity of mind like never before, refining a perfect-quality batch of Qi-Returning Pills!"

Rumors flew like wings to every corner of the market. Those cultivators who had once been turned away by the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion due to lack of funds saw a glimmer of light in the darkness and flocked to that inconspicuous corner.

A long line formed in front of Jiang Xiuyuan’s stall.

He remained unhurried, asking each person who approached only one question: "What do you seek?"

Some said wealth, some said cultivation, some said dharma treasures. Jiang Xiuyuan merely smiled and shook his head, signaling that their fated moment had not yet arrived.

Finally, a man with a sorrowful face approached, his eyes bloodshot and his voice hoarse: "I seek nothing else. My wife is deathly ill, and medicine has failed. I only ask that she suffer less pain. If I could take it upon myself, I would give anything."

Jiang Xiuyuan looked at him deeply and handed him a bodhi bead: "Your wish is heavy. Go back, hold it, and stay by your wife’s side. Your love for her is the strongest power in the world."

The man accepted the bead and left with a thousand thanks.

This scene made the people in line realize something. They began to understand that the "fated opportunities" distributed at this stall had nothing to do with cultivation or wealth, but only with the purest, most authentic "heart."

The commotion of the crowd naturally caught the eyes of the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion’s scouts.

"Master, we cannot wait any longer!" Steward Liu urged. "This is no longer just a business problem; he is digging at the foundation of our Buddha Kingdom! If we let him keep 'giving' like this, who will come to our Pavilion to pay high prices for dharma artifacts?"

Monk Mingli’s face was so dark it seemed as if water could drip from it. He understood this logic all too well. The business model of the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion was built on the "monopoly of the interpretation of the Buddha." And now, someone was providing "open source" for free!

"Hmph, since he refuses a toast only to drink a forfeit, then let him disappear entirely!" A murderous intent flashed in Mingli’s eyes. "Steward Liu, take your men and smash his stall! Drag him back! Remember, make a big scene. Tell everyone he is a heretic, using artifacts to bewitch the masses! I want everyone to see the price of crossing the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion!"

"Yes!" Steward Liu perked up, grinning as he received the order. He had wanted to do this for a long time.

Soon, a team of over a dozen Foundation Establishment cultivators from the Pavilion, led by Steward Liu, marched aggressively through the crowd, heading straight for Jiang Xiuyuan’s stall.

"Move aside! The Pavilion is purging a heretic!"

The guards pushed the cultivators blocking the way roughly, instantly clearing a path. The surrounding cultivators dared to be angry but dared not speak, retreating in haste.

Steward Liu walked up to the stall and looked down at Jiang Xiuyuan, who sat cross-legged on the ground, his face full of disdain and glee: "Kid, your good days are over! How dare you use these evil objects to bewitch people and ruin the reputation of the Buddha Kingdom! Men, smash all this trash, and take this heretic!"

"Yes!" Several guards stepped forward with cruel grins, ready to strike.

The cultivators in line were in an uproar; some showed indignation and anger, but no one dared to step forward. The Pavilion’s authority had been established for too long, and no one wanted to invite trouble upon themselves.

However, Jiang Xiuyuan remained seated, not even lifting an eyelid. He spoke calmly, his voice not loud, yet clearly entering the ears of everyone present:

"The Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion—what grand prestige."

"You call me a heretic, and my stones evil objects." He slowly raised his head, his gaze as calm as water, sweeping over Steward Liu, the guards, and finally falling upon the face of every onlooker.

"Then, I would like to ask you all."

His voice suddenly rose, like a tolling bell, causing hearts to tremble.

"My stone allows a filial son to comfort a sick mother, a loving father to protect his young child, a practitioner to break through their inner demons, and a lost soul to firm their path. It takes not a single penny; it only reflects the human heart. If this is what you call a 'heretic'—"

He paused, a mocking arc appearing at the corner of his mouth, his gaze piercing Steward Liu like a sharp blade.

"Then your Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion, which puts a price tag on the protection of the Buddha, converts the piety of believers into spirit stones, leaves the poor in despair before the Buddha, and allows the wealthy to pile up merit with money—pray tell, what does that count as?"

Every word was a strike to the heart!

The surrounding cultivators instantly erupted!

"Well said!"

"The Pavilion is nothing but a bloodsucker!"

"Why should they be allowed to sell, while this young man cannot give?"

Public resentment, like dry wood set aflame, exploded instantly.

Steward Liu’s face turned the color of a liver. He had not expected this seemingly simple young man to be so sharp-tongued. Humiliated and furious, he shouted, "Nonsense! You heretic, your tongue is silver! Get him! Take him! Whoever dares to stop me is an enemy of the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion!"

The guards channeled their spiritual energy, drawing their artifacts, ready to strike by force.

Just at this tense moment, an old, peaceful voice drifted in from outside the crowd, seemingly carrying a power capable of soothing all agitation.

"Amitabha, fellow practitioners of the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion, why such great anger?"

The crowd looked toward the sound and saw the people automatically parting to create a path. The old monk Liaochen walked in, holding a broom, his steps slow. He remained the same decrepit, dying figure, but at this moment, no one dared to underestimate him in the slightest.

His gaze passed over the crowd and landed on Jiang Xiuyuan, carrying a hint of approval and a touch of understanding.