He soon returned, carrying a sandalwood box, about a foot square, entered the room, and carefully placed the six relics within.

They were warm and smooth as jade, emitting a faint, delicate fragrance. After bowing respectfully several times, he set the wooden box upon the low table near the window. Then,

he picked up the thin booklet, but instead of immediately turning the pages, he gently put it down again. Instead, he took up the string of sandalwood prayer beads, bringing them close to examine them in detail. At this moment,

the clean fragrance in the room grew stronger, very much like musk.

As it drifted into his nostrils, his spirit instantly lifted, his mind felt clear and refreshed, as if he had just emerged from deep meditation. The prayer beads numbered thirty-six, all similar in size, each about the size of a longan fruit, finely polished and smooth, reflecting an oily sheen. Within the beads, a strange texture occasionally flickered, almost imperceptible. This texture was elusive; it would flash briefly,

but when he looked closely, nothing could be seen. Holding them in his palm, he felt his mind settle and his spirit clear. Li Muzhan had already reached the initial stage of Chan (Zen), his senses far keener than ordinary men,

allowing him to perceive the abnormality of these beads. This string of prayer beads possessed the effect of calming the spirit. For an ordinary person, its use was slight, perhaps just making them feel more even-tempered while wearing them.

But for him, the benefits were boundless. Ordinary people, having never cultivated meditative stillness, possessed turbulent minds they were unaware of,

like a great wind constantly blowing. His own skill in Chan meditation was deep; his thoughts were cultivated to be delicate and sharp, like a gentle breeze,

fine and continuous. These beads could quiet the mind, acting like a small wind-calming pearl. Though their power was subtle and insufficient to steady the crude turbulence of an ordinary person’s mind, they could certainly settle his own stray thoughts. He paused in thought, set down the beads,

brought his palms together in a gesture of reverence toward them, and then hung them around his neck. He had never heard of the Great Thunder Sound Temple; there were countless temples in the world. Finding it might depend on these beads being a clue. Wearing them, perhaps he might encounter an opportunity, and besides, they were useful to him. As for showing reverence or disrespect to the deceased, he paid it no mind. Having died once and understood the great mystery of life and death, he had already seen through mortality. The beads on his wrist were relics from his Master, but they lacked this effect;

they were merely ordinary sandalwood beads. Next, Li Muzhan slowly picked up the thin booklet. For Master Jikong to carry it with him constantly and yet remain unable to fully comprehend it, it surely must not be some mundane object. He felt a stirring of anticipation. He sat cross-legged on the cloud-bed,

refraining from opening it immediately, instead carefully stroking the cover. The material of this booklet was peculiar: neither quite paper nor quite silk, he could not tell what it was made of. His concentration was profound; though intensely curious, he managed to suppress the impulse,

slowly exploring its nature. He sensed the subtle ripples in his own lake of mind,

clearly indicating that this booklet was of great significance to him. After careful contemplation, he slowly opened it. He could not help but laugh softly; there was only a single page, though somewhat thick—thicker than five or six ordinary sheets of paper.

What met his eyes was a depiction.

A colossal lotus bloomed upon a lake surface. A figure sat cross-legged atop this massive flower, radiating intense light that burst forth like a miniature sun, obscuring his features so only an outline remained visible. Within the radiance, one could vaguely discern him sitting in the full lotus posture, hands forming a specific mudra, his bearing majestically solemn.

This person’s eyes were tightly closed in a state of deep absorption. A vertical eye rested on his forehead, and where the heart should be on his left chest, there was a lotus flower.

Li Muzhan stared intently; the lotus seemed to be slowly rotating. He uttered a soft "Yi" of surprise and focused on the spinning lotus. Gradually, his expression became distant. He felt his entire body soften and loosen,

experiencing an ineffable, blissful sensation, wishing he could remain thus forever. His body grew lighter and lighter, seeming ready to float away and dissolve into the void. His eyes suddenly blazed open. His hands relaxed, and the booklet slipped to the floor. His hands swiftly formed the Great Vajra Mudra, then immediately froze. He became utterly still; everything ceased—breath, blood flow, thought itself seemed suspended. At this moment, his expression was one of solemn majesty, like a great Buddha statue within a temple. After half an hour, he released the hand seals and slowly opened his eyes.

His gaze was clear and gentle, but his complexion had turned ashen, as if recovering from a severe illness. Letting out a long breath, he thought, How dangerous, I nearly fell prey to it. If not for his profound Chan practice, anyone else might have already suffered soul separation. He had cultivated to the fundamental stage of Chan, breaking free from the Desire Realm, a path fraught with extreme difficulty, passing through countless illusions and subduing innumerable inner demons to reach the Form Realm. It was precisely because of these myriad experiences that his will was firm as a rock, allowing him to awaken and extract himself in time. Otherwise, lost in that blissful sensation, he would have found it impossible to withdraw, likely resulting in the shattering of his spirit. He glanced once more at the illustration, but it appeared normal again. The heart of the lotus was fixed and still, no longer rotating, as if everything that had just occurred had been an illusion. He frowned in contemplation. Logically, Master Jikong would not wish him harm, yet this drawing was indeed bizarre; it must contain some profound secret. He looked below the image and found a line of script written in Sanskrit. He recognized these characters from his Master: "Guan Tianren Shenzhao Jing."

He concentrated, dissecting the characters: Guan Tianren, Shenzhao Jing? Or perhaps Guan Tianren Shenzhao, Jing? Or Guan, Tianren Shenzhao, Jing? Turning the phrase over and over, he chewed on the meaning. These characters held the secret of the painting. Now, looking at it, the Guan Tianren Shenzhao Jing did not seem like a manual for martial arts. His perception was extremely acute;

an ordinary person might not notice, but he could sense that the painting exuded an aura of solemnity, upright grandeur—definitely not an evil object. Could it be that his method was wrong?

Guan Tianren Shenzhao Jing, written in Sanskrit—did it require visualization of this image within the mind? This was a unique cultivation method of the Esoteric School, which he had dabbled in. He acted upon the thought. After looking over the painting once more, he set it down, formed mudras with his hands,

sealed his breath by touching his nose, and re-entered the state of Chan meditation.

A quarter of an hour passed in a flash, and he slowly opened his eyes, his brow tightly furrowed. It was truly strange; this painting simply could not be visualized. When he closed his eyes and tried to focus, his mind was met with utter darkness,

like infinite emptiness. Normally, if a person closes their eyes, they see blackness. When he usually entered meditation, closing his eyes revealed brightness, as if bathed in sunlight—his inner light illuminated within. Now, it had turned dark,

as if his Chan practice had been instantly nullified, reducing him to the level of an ordinary person. He abandoned visualization, closed his eyes again, and re-entered his state. Soon, light appeared before his eyes; his spirit calmed, peaceful and harmonious, as comfortable as usual. Opening his eyes,

he sighed in relief. It seemed certain that the painting was the source of the strangeness. There was no need to rush. He suppressed his impatience and agitation, smoothed the surface of his mind's lake, restored his tranquility, and put the thin booklet away. The drizzle had stopped, and the sun emerged, bathing the world in light that made everything appear especially fresh and bright. The air in Chengjing Temple was inherently tranquil, yet the chirping of the surrounding birds kept it from being lifeless. He left the temple gate and walked toward the rear.

Twenty meters up the slope behind the temple was a flat area where a stone pagoda stood—a pointed top on a round body, the same height as him, about a meter in diameter, simple and unadorned. He carefully placed the sandalwood box inside the pagoda, where another wooden box already rested. After securing it, he brought his palms together in a salute toward the stone pagoda and murmured to himself,

"Master, revered Master, may you meet in the Western Pure Land and become fast friends."

Then, he turned and left,

heading down the mountain.

The village was becoming lively. Cooking smoke curled upwards, and the fresh air carried the scent of faint smoke; the entire village was veiled in light haze—it was time for lunch. Children spilled out, in small groups, chasing and playing, their laughter ringing crisp and clear.

They deliberately ran toward the water's edge, splashing in the shallows, joyfully unrestrained. Occasionally, adults called out loudly, some summoning children home for food, others scolding them for making mischief and getting their clothes wet. Adults and children alike brought their palms together in salute when they saw Li Muzhan, their expressions respectful.

The current Emperor favored Buddhism, and monks held a high status in the Dayanzhao Dynasty. Li Muzhan, usually composed and serene, possessing an air of wisdom and mastery, appeared as an enlightened monk, holding a very high position in the village. Li Muzhan returned the salutes one by one, his expression calm, saying nothing.

His steps did not falter. In a short while, he reached home and dropped the composure, allowing a smile to surface. Pushing open the door, he saw his father, Li Zhuzi, standing by the flowerbeds, hands clasped behind his back, bent over, peering into the flower patch with a look of deep distress. "Father!" He walked over and said with a smile,

"The falling of flowers is the will of heaven; why trouble yourself with sorrow?" He knew his father was upset that the rain had beaten down the blossoms. Li Zhuzi turned, his eyes wide,

"Boy, stop with that talk! Don't try to teach me that moralizing nonsense!" "Alright, alright... Has Elder Brother returned yet?" Li Muzhan asked with a smile. "Yes, he just walked in the door!" Li Zhuzi nodded, then glanced back at the petals on the ground, still looking heartbroken. Li Muzhan chuckled, "If Mother sees you like this, she'll start making sharp remarks again!" "She wouldn't dare!" Li Zhuzi snorted, but immediately cast a quick glance toward the main house. Li Muzhan quickly suppressed his smile, pretending not to have noticed, though he inwardly chuckled. He composed himself and said seriously, "I'll go see Elder Brother!" "Wait a moment!" Li Zhuzi waved his hand hurriedly and lowered his voice, "Those two haven't seen each other for a month; why go join their excitement?!" Li Muzhan laughed, "I only hope they don't start arguing again!" "Sigh..." Li Zhuzi shook his head and sighed, murmuring lowly, "Old Zhang's grandson is already six years old, and he calls his grandfather so sweetly! That old man constantly brags in front of me..." "Don't worry, Father, you'll have a grandson," Li Muzhan replied, then turned to leave quickly. He knew this monologue of his father’s by heart. Next would come the complaints: You shouldn't have become a monk; if you hadn't, you'd be married now. If the eldest can't give me a grandson, then you, the third one, should step up! Entering the room, he smiled, "Elder Brother!"

Beside the Eight Immortals table in the main room sat a young man in blue, over thirty years old, slender build,

a face as fair as jade, and eyes like bright stars—truly an outstandingly handsome man. He sported a small mustache, which lent him an air of mature, dashing elegance. He sat boldly, a teacup held in his hand, exuding an impressive presence. Seeing Li Muzhan, he looked up, his eyes sharp,

seeming to peer straight into people's hearts. He nodded soberly, "Third Brother, back from the temple again?" Li Muzhan looked at his elder brother, Li Mufeng, and secretly admired him. Such talent—no wonder the sister-in-law was infatuated and insisted on marrying him. Together, they were a perfect match, divinely paired! Li Muzhan went over and sat down, smiling as he nodded, "Yes, just went to tidy up... This rain was much needed." The brothers shared a deep affection, but as men, they did not speak much. "Third Brother, I have made the arrangements," Li Mufeng said, setting down his cup slowly. "Go back with me this time." Li Muzhan refilled his tea and smiled, "Isn't it too early for you to formally take up your post?" Li Mufeng said, "The official establishment is set for November, but I spoke to Commander Jin about you, and he is too impatient to wait; he insists you come see things first."

"That's very kind of you, Elder Brother," Li Muzhan replied with a smile. A thought flickered through his mind: Elder Brother must have praised me highly to Commander Jin, making the Commander eager. Otherwise, given Elder Brother's uncompromising nature, he would never allow me to bend the rules. It seemed Commander Jin was also a man who appreciated talent; as long as one possessed ability,

getting along with him shouldn't be hard. "Why be so polite with me!" Li Mufeng waved his hand and said seriously,

"Third Brother, you are always so guarded, holding something back in every matter. This time, don't hide anything; bring out all the abilities you have!" Li Muzhan touched his shaved head and smiled in agreement,

"Understood!" The brothers were mid-conversation when Sister-in-law Zhao Yiyi entered, "Time to eat!" She was wearing a light, patterned silk robe, both plain and charming, looking even more captivating as she entered. Upon entering, she looked only at Li Muzhan, as if Li Mufeng was not present.

Li Muzhan shook his head inwardly. They were still quarreling, unable to reconcile—truly worrying. He smiled pleasantly, "Good, Sister-in-law, please bring it out." "Wash your hands quickly!" Zhao Yiyi shot him a look, turned her slender waist, and went out. Li Muzhan didn't take offense, chuckled, and leaned toward his brother, whispering, "Elder Brother, you didn't bring anything back for Sister-in-law this time?"

"Bring what?"

Li Mufeng asked, startled. "Rouge, face powder, alas..." Li Muzhan shook his head, looking at him helplessly, feeling like he was speaking to a wall. This Elder Brother, though appearing dashing and possessing noble bearing, holding a fatal attraction for women, was utterly clueless about matters of sentiment, acting rigidly and by the book. And Sister-in-law, though a young lady from a noble house and appearing delicate, also had a temper.

Putting the two together caused endless trouble. "I don't want to spoil her with bad habits!" Li Mufeng waved his hand, furrowing his sharp brows, and snorted. Li Muzhan gave a wry smile, "Elder Brother, with women, you can't hold them to the same standard. Just appease them when you can; harmony in the household brings prosperity!" "I don't have the time for that!"

Li Mufeng’s face darkened, and he said coldly, "I'd rather she appease me. Sigh... never mind that; it's spoiling the mood!" Seeing his nose pinched and his face clearly unhappy, filled with anger, Li Muzhan knew further persuasion was useless; he wouldn't listen. He could only sigh deeply and remain silent.

"What? Leaving tomorrow?!" Li Muzhan's mother, Madam Qin, exclaimed loudly. The entire family of five was seated around the table eating when the news that Li Muzhan would accompany Li Mufeng to the Mei Residence the next day reached Madam Qin, causing her to cry out involuntarily. She was usually gentle and soft-spoken, a true gentlewoman in demeanor, and it was rare for her voice to be so loud. Li Muzhan put down his chopsticks, took her hand, and smiled,

"Mother, I am going to the Mei Residence, not somewhere far away. It’s so close, I can be back in an instant... Besides, Elder Brother will be looking after me!" Madam Qin pulled her hand back, gave him a sharp look, and huffed with a dark expression, "How can you just leave like that?... No, if you must go, wait until after the New Year!" Li Mufeng quickly interjected, "Mother, this is a rare opportunity; it will be too late after the New Year!" Madam Qin snorted unhappily, "

Too late is fine, I can't bear for Third Brother to leave so early!" Although she was over forty,

she still retained the petulance of a young daughter, occasionally being unreasonably stubborn. Of her three children, Li Muzhan was the most doted upon. "Father, look at this..."

Li Mufeng looked toward his father, Li Zhuzi. Li Zhuzi coughed, put down his chopsticks, and nodded, "You are so grown up, yet your planning is still incomplete! ... Why didn't you tell your mother sooner, so she could prepare!" "It's just that..." Li Mufeng started to argue back. Li Muzhan quickly interrupted, smiling, "Yes, yes, Father is right. It is all my fault for not telling Mother earlier."

"You are only seventeen, what do you know? It's all Elder Brother's fault!" Madam Qin huffed. "Fine, yes, it's all my fault!" Li Mufeng sighed bitterly, shaking his head helplessly. Li Muzhan winked at his elder brother, looking quite pleased, which earned him a glare. Li Muzhan greatly enjoyed this feeling. Outside, he was an accomplished monk of high standing, but in front of his parents, he would forever be their child. Zhao Yiyi kept her head down, a slight smile playing on her lips.