Outside a grand and majestic Buddhist Hall, beneath a bodhi tree.
Samantabhadra Bodhisattva, his appearance that of a young monk, took a golden alms bowl from his sleeve and placed it before him.
Opposite him stood Vaidurya Bodhisattva, dressed all in white, barefoot like snow, with a cascade of azure hair flowing behind her.
Aside from her bloodless lips, Vaidurya Bodhisattva showed no other signs of abnormality.
Her eyes, lustrous with a glassy sheen, fixed upon Samantabhadra, devoid of emotion, as she spoke softly:
“How powerful is the Nine-tailed Celestial Fox?”
The young monk replied calmly:
“She’s still some way from first rank.”
Vaidurya Bodhisattva nodded:
“Without awakening that divine ability, she is unable to fully wield the spiritual essence of the Nine-tailed Celestial Fox. She doesn’t pose much of a threat.”
As she spoke, the golden alms bowl cast a beam of golden light, which manifested above the pair as the mighty figure of Agaruka Bodhisattva.
Samantabhadra Bodhisattva put his palms together, his tone steady:
“The Southern Yao have restored their nation.”
…
The Demon Suppressing Ravine lay in the southern part of Ananda, a cold mountain valley where the Buddhist sect had carved out roads and cells on the cliff faces, used for imprisoning monks who broke precepts, fearsome outlaws of the Western Regions, and foreign enemies.
Two or three centuries ago, the ravine’s prisoners had all been from the Yao tribes.
Later, many of those Yao, approaching the end of their natural lifespan, died. Some, unable to endure the misery and loneliness, took refuge in Buddhism. Over time, Demon Suppressing Ravine gradually fell into silence and neglect.
Al-Asura descended from high above, his gaze sweeping over the valley. On the cliffs to either side were vacant, icy cells hollowed out from the rock.
The lower he went, the darker the light became.
“Thud~”
Al-Asura landed in the valley and looked towards the west side.
On the sheer cliff there gaped a cave entrance, twenty feet high, above which three characters were carved:
Demon Suppressing Ravine!
Entering the cave led directly beneath Ananda.
According to legend, Buddha had once suppressed the Asura King beneath the mountain, it referred to this very ravine.
The bottom of the valley was strictly forbidden in Ananda; ordinary monks could not approach, and even arhats and vajras required a Bodhisattva’s permission to enter.
In the past, with Samantabhadra Bodhisattva overseeing Ananda from above, whether before or after his return, Al-Asura had never set foot here.
Al-Asura stretched out a hand, gingerly reaching towards the cave, as if an invisible door lay there.
His hand slipped effortlessly inside the cavern, grasping at nothing.
No warding… Under his pronounced brow ridge, Al-Asura’s sharp eyes glittered. Without hesitation, he stepped into the cave.
The corridor was pitch dark. In the absence of light, even those beyond-mortal could not see, due to the structure of the human eye.
However, those of such level had means of perceiving the world without their eyes.
Especially since Al-Asura had mastered Heaven Sight. Yet, for some unknown reason, guided by a warrior’s intuition, he neither used Heaven Sight nor extended the power of his soul to probe the surroundings.
Yet his innate danger sense as a warrior had not given any warning.
Moving deeper along the dark passage, Al-Asura was not at all afraid of bumping into the walls, a supreme warrior’s physique could barely be harmed by the mightiest of divine weapons.
After a quarter of an hour, Al-Asura halted.
“Huff, huff…”
Up ahead, from the depths of the passage, came rhythmic breathing.
Al-Asura had come seeking the corpse of the Asura King, never expecting to encounter such a scene.
Could someone be slumbering here in the same ravine where the Asura King had once been suppressed?
With chill winds biting into his flesh, Al-Asura felt the cold seep into his very soul.
Still, his danger sense remained silent.
…
Agaruka Bodhisattva, the symbol of strength, sat cross-legged with palms together. Upon hearing about the restoration of the Southern Yao nation and the withdrawal of the western monks from the Southern Marches, his steady, solemn face betrayed no change in expression. He simply said:
“Even you could not stop them.”
To this, Samantabhadra Bodhisattva replied calmly:
“We are not a first rank arcanist.”
Agaruka Bodhisattva, still in his meditative posture, asked instead:
“How is al-Asura? After his return, does his Buddha-heart remain untainted?”
He referred to al-Asura’s failure to protect the severed limb of Shenshu, allowing the Yao to reclaim it, the chief cause behind the loss of the Southern Marches.
Vaidurya Bodhisattva shifted her gaze to Samantabhadra.
The young monk’s speech was measured as he said:
“The Buddha-heart is untainted!”
At this, Agaruka Bodhisattva nodded gently.
Vaidurya Bodhisattva withdrew her gaze.
“Vaidurya, how long will it take your wounds to heal?” Vajra Tree lowered his gaze, regarding the Bodhisattva whose azure hair fell like a waterfall.
“The Jianzheng injured my foundation. In the short term, it will be difficult to recover, unless Dharmapara Bodhisattva returns to use the Medicine Buddha Dharma Aspect to treat us.” Vaidurya shook her head slightly.
Vajra Tree sighed faintly:
“At that time, the Jianzheng’s strength was still above standard. Now, harming your foundation would be rather more difficult for him.”
When he finished, Samantabhadra Bodhisattva asked unhurriedly:
“How fares the war in Qingzhou?”
Vajra Tree shook his head:
“It remains deadlocked.”
Both Samantabhadra and Vaidurya Bodhisattvas fell silent for a moment.
“It ought not to be so.”
The latter, her voice melodious, added,
“With the elite forces of Yunzhou, Qingzhou should have fallen by now. The shaman clans are too few to influence the outcome.”
Agaruka Bodhisattva did not answer directly, instead saying coolly:
“Wait here at Ananda for news, and guard against the Yao attacking Ananda to snatch Shenshu’s head.”
…
The place where the Buddha slumbered lay in the western zen forest of Ananda.
This forbidden ground of the Buddhist sect, from common monk to first rank Bodhisattva, could only be entered by summons.
Walls red as a giant serpent wound along the mountainsides, layer upon layer, capped with grey tiles.
Outside the zen forest, a sphere of golden light appeared, manifesting as the form of Arhat Du’e.
Arhat Du’e pressed his palms together, bowed outside the zen forest, and called quietly,
“Disciple Du’e greets the Buddha.”
The grove was silent, not the faintest stirring, not even a living creature.
“Disciple Du’e greets the Buddha.”
No reply came.
Time was of the essence, and Du’e dared not tarry. He stepped forward with his right foot, in his Arhat sandals.
The so-called zen forest doubled as the cemetery of the monks. From Bodhisattva down to sramanera, after death, all could be interred here.
It was also, for most, their only chance to step foot here in their lives.
Du’e continued onward, past pagodas and crumbling walls deep with fallen leaves, a scene of bleak desolation.
He searched purposefully for the Confucian Sage’s statue.
According to Xu Qi’an, if the statue remained, then the Buddha had not broken free of his seal.
If the statue had been destroyed, the Buddha had already escaped.
Du’e had no doubts about Xu Qi’an’s claim, on this matter, their aims were the same: to unravel the mystery of Shenshu’s origins.
Xu Qi’an had no reason to lie or mislead, it would be pointless.
The zen forest was vast, taking up the entire hill, but Du’e’s objective was clear, the depths of the grove, where a bodhi tree grew.
Legend said that when the Buddha attained enlightenment on Mount Ananda, the heavens grew jealous, sending down storms and lightning.
Then, from behind the Buddha, a bodhi tree grew forth, shielding him from wind and rain, diverting the lightning strikes.
Soon, Du’e reached the remote depths of the grove and beheld the tree.
The grand, thickly-leaved bodhi tree stood tall at the grove’s centre. Its trunk was massive, with countless thick trailing vines, nearly enveloping the trunk.
The bodhi tree was not especially tall, but spread wide in all directions, forming a grand parasol.
Arhat Du’e’s pupils contracted.
Beneath the shade lay a heap of severely weathered stones, on careful inspection, clearly fragments of a broken statue.
The Confucian Sage’s statue is destroyed. The Buddha has broken free… Arhat Du’e stared at the heap for a long time without a word.
Suddenly, a calm, emotionless voice rang out behind Arhat Du’e:
“Du’e, what are you doing here?”
Anyone else would have had their heart in their throat at such a moment, cold sweat pouring down their back.
But Du’e was a second rank arhat, adept in self-cultivation. He slowly turned and looked towards Samantabhadra Bodhisattva, thirty feet away, and said:
“Shenshu’s seal has been broken; he walks the world again. The Southern Yao have reclaimed the Hundred Thousand Mountains and declared the restoration of their nation.
“This matter is grave. We believe the Buddha ought not to remain asleep.”
Du’e was a second rank arhat, a disciple of the Buddha. In theory, his status was not inferior to Samantabhadra Bodhisattva.
He was entitled to an audience with the Buddha.
However, as the Buddhist sect valued phala above all, arhats stood one rank below Bodhisattvas, and so the latter generally held higher status.
“The Buddha dispels the karmic fires of the world. He shall awaken in his own time and grant you audience only when he so chooses.”
Samantabhadra Bodhisattva’s voice was calm:
“If he does not wish to see you, then no matter how far you search, earth or sky, you shall not find him.”
Arhat Du’e pressed his palms together, bowing his head:
“It is our impatience.”
Samantabhadra Bodhisattva nodded:
“Go. Do not disturb the Buddha again.”
Du’e said no more and began to leave.
As he passed Samantabhadra Bodhisattva, he suddenly heard, from behind, a faint and uncanny whisper:
“Help me… help me…”
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