Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Immaculate Buddha Heart Tainted by Dust

Qingyuan and Gu Cang stepped out of the cave. Once they were away from the entrance, Qingyuan betrayed nothing in his expression, yet his pace was brisk.

The seven tiger-wolves followed at their sides, too wary to be dismissed.

“Sir,” Gu Cang hesitated, then suddenly asked, “What about me?”

Qingyuan understood his meaning and shook his head. “You are different from that demon. He knowingly commits evil, but you have not yet done such things. Your heart remains simple, untainted by vice or virtue, and can still be guided. Besides, when I took you in, it was out of necessity, as my own abilities were lacking.”

Gu Cang scratched his head and grinned sheepishly, then continued, “What you said earlier made a lot of sense.”

“The latter part was my own words,” Qingyuan replied after a moment’s silence, his gaze deep. “As for the first part, that was not my own.”

Gu Cang was taken aback. “Then whose words were they?”

“One of the two founders of the Daoist sect, the Supreme Patriarch.”

Qingyuan’s expression shifted subtly as he spoke in a low voice, “Legend has it that the sacred beast from the West, the golden-bodied Dragon Elephant at the Buddha’s side, once came to our land and wrought havoc. Later, two great Bodhisattvas of the Buddhist realm came to subdue it, but before they could succeed, the Supreme Patriarch appeared in the valley and slew the beast.”

“Before the two Bodhisattvas, the Patriarch used those very words, leaving them utterly unable to refute him.”

After a brief chuckle, Qingyuan continued, “When the Daoist patriarch speaks, the very laws of nature follow; in truth, he was wielding the highest principles of heaven and earth.”

“My own cultivation is shallow. I cannot command the laws with words, only recite them with true energy. Still, the traces of the Patriarch’s wisdom have become the world’s guiding truths...”

With reverence, Qingyuan said, “Thus, these words borrow some of the Patriarch’s ancient profundity, which is why they have such effect.”

“Daoist Patriarch...” Awe filled Gu Cang’s face. He murmured, “Even words spoken by such a sage carry mystical power?”

“Indeed,” Qingyuan replied, not without emotion. “It’s said that by uttering those words, the Supreme Patriarch forced the two Bodhisattvas to retreat—and even wounded them.”

Gu Cang was astonished. “Wounded, merely by words?”

“Ordinary people can hurt others with words, but this is not the same…” Qingyuan nodded. “Daoists cultivate their energy and mastery step by step, through observation and understanding. Buddhists, however, place utmost importance on sudden enlightenment; in an instant, one may become a Buddha. Much of their attainment lies in the word ‘insight.’”

“The Supreme Patriarch’s words, each one a universal truth, wounded the Bodhisattvas’ very hearts of enlightenment.”

“It is said that the two Bodhisattvas spent centuries wandering their Western Buddhist realm, gathering incense and the power of vows, before they could restore their golden bodies and recover from their wounds.”

Qingyuan glanced back at the cave and sighed. “Had that master not harbored the thought of capturing me, wishing to bind me with Buddhist law, I would not have resorted to such means—words that wound the heart and damage his cultivation.”

This matter had long since been buried in dust, especially within the Buddhist ranks. It was almost unknown, already a secret. Only someone like Qingyuan—a Daoist acolyte from the Celestial Purple Cloud Palace—was so familiar with these tales, knowing them as well as his own palm.

He had first heard such stories from Senior Brother Qingyang.

Back in the Purple Cloud Palace, Qingyang was responsible for teaching new acolytes their cultivation methods. To relieve the monotony, he often recounted such anecdotes.

Qingyuan had never imagined that the story he once found amusing would one day prove useful.

Now, with the cave entrance out of sight, he finally allowed himself a breath of relief.

“All was going smoothly, but who would have expected such a monk to appear midway?”

He mused, “I fear he’s not a monk from these lands.”

Gu Cang scratched his head. “Why not?”

Qingyuan chuckled. “He called me ‘Patron,’ but monks here usually adapt and say ‘Benefactor.’”

“Is there a difference?” Gu Cang asked.

Qingyuan shook his head slightly. “Not much in meaning, just a difference in custom. Those who use the first term are either monks who insist on orthodoxy and are rigid of mind, or else are foreigners from the Western lands. This one, I believe, is the latter.”

Gu Cang nodded in understanding.

“Let’s go,” Qingyuan said, waving his hand.

He was about to move when a sudden thought flashed through his mind.

“One of those wolves seems to have escaped…”

Qingyuan’s brows drew together. He turned to Gu Cang, “Split up and give chase.”

…

Within the cave.

The old monk gazed at the ashes covering the ground, the walls stained black with soot.

He stood in silence for a long time before quietly speaking: “If, just now, I had used compassion to save him, but in the future he were to escape and kill or harm others… then would my compassion, my kindness, not itself become an evil?”

“Master Xuance… you…” The young acolyte’s face was stricken with horror. He had watched from the sidelines, never giving it thought, yet had not imagined mere words could shake Master Xuance’s faith.

Xuance fell silent. “What he said is not without reason.”

“But… but all those slain by that demon were not of our Buddhist fold!” the young acolyte exclaimed. “Remember how, in the old days, you conquered the lands, established your realm, and led the nation to embrace Buddhism. In our Western Buddhist Kingdom, though there are no Daoist immortals, everyone lives long; all act with virtue, none do evil. But here in our central land, where people do not believe in the Dharma, evil thoughts abound, and so come these calamities. If only you could spread the Dharma widely here, guiding all to goodness, then surely the world would be at peace…”

“No…”

Xuance shook his head. “Though I act with good intent, if my kindness results in evil deeds, then it is still a sin. What he said is true, and it is indeed a question to ponder…”

The young acolyte was shaken. “Then… those words…”

“Precisely.” Xuance’s beard and brows were white as snow, his expression as calm as water. He nodded. “What that young man said has become an obstacle in my heart.”

The acolyte, unable to speak, was seized by panic.

Master Xuance had discovered the bodies of the bandits by chance and traced the killer here, intending to take him and convert him through Buddhist teachings.

Yet he had never expected that the young man’s words could shake even a master of such virtue, causing Xuance to doubt the Dharma he followed and question the very goodness of his actions.

Could it be that young man was the embodiment of a heart demon?

“If I cannot overcome this obstacle, my attainment in the Dharma will never progress.”

But Xuance showed little concern. He spoke softly, “Yet if I can overcome it, my understanding of the Dharma will deepen, and perhaps I may become a Buddha in this very life.”

Having finished, he closed his eyes, pressed his palms together, and chanted, “Namo Amitabha.”

With a Buddha’s heart, the name is pure.

Yet once dust settles, it is hard to cleanse, hard to recover.