Chapter 152: Buddhist Disciple 12

Qian chased after the tall, slender figure ahead.

However, the farther he walked, the faster he became, and soon disappeared through a door.

Qian ran through the door, only to find that instead of entering another noisy room, she was suddenly in a brightly lit world, with a vast sea stretching out before her.

The sky was a deep blue, the sea a rich green, and on a huge white dragon skeleton island, trees grew everywhere.

It was Dragon Island!

Qian’s fading memories were revived.

She turned around and saw not far away a giant dragon lying in the shallow waters.

The Frost Ice Giant Dragon appeared even larger and more majestic than in her memories. Its scales were silver-white, resembling an iceberg in the sea.

It was sleeping, with its head resting on a small, long white bone island.

The tiny island was covered in white flowers, and the dragon’s head was buried in them.

Qian ran over, lying on its white scales and mane, reaching out to push it.

“Dad? Dad!”

Of course, she couldn’t push it.

Then, she noticed that the giant dragon hadn’t moved in a long time. The part of its belly touching the sea had grown some seaweed and moss.

Qian climbed from the dragon’s head to its neck, sitting on top and grabbing its horns to sway.

She felt like a breeze, and the dragon should not have noticed her presence. But in that moment, its eyes suddenly opened.

Its purple, translucent eyes reflected the small white flowers on her cheeks like glass beads.

Qian immediately slid down from its head, placing herself in front of its eye, crouching down and gently touching the dragon’s eyeball, as though cleaning a window.

But no matter how hard she tried, its beautiful eyes couldn’t reflect her image, so after a while, they slowly closed again.

Qian still wanted to lift its heavy eyelids, to let it see her, but suddenly, the blue sky, green grass, and the giant dragon all faded away, and she began to fall.

She was falling through the sky, seeing a building in the distance deforming.

It was Tianzi Building, which she remembered very clearly!

But it was no longer the same Tianzi Building she had left; it had completely changed.

Around the Tianzi Building, what had once been old neighborhoods now connected to new buildings.

Qian looked around and saw large shopping malls, amusement parks, schools, and the like.

They looked like random blocks of toys pieced together by children, forming a vast and strange complex.

Only the central Tianzi Building remained the same, its structure unchanged.

Qian landed in the Tianzi Building’s courtyard. First, she heard the laughter of a group of infants. Looking up, she saw some babies crawling on the building’s walls, leaving handprints and footprints on the walls and railings inside and outside the building.

Among the noisy sounds, a shadow emerged from a room.

“Mom!”

The Deformed Mother’s white-and-blood-stained dress had turned entirely blood-red. She had regained her original form and was spinning around inside the building.

Qian followed her, watching as she opened one door after another, peeking inside, turning around, and then moving on to the next door.

After finishing the first floor, she went up to the second floor and repeated the same “searching” motion.

Qian, like a tail, followed her, and after several floors, she realized that her mother was probably searching for her, because her mother had stood by the wall she had once doodled on for a long time.

Her mother had turned around more than once in the places where Qian often stayed.

Was she worried and saddened because she was missing her noisiest child? Would she keep searching for her like this?

Seeing her beloved family over and over again, but unable to call out or catch them, the child finally couldn’t hold back anymore, grabbing the hem of her mother’s skirt and crying out loud.

Suddenly, Tianzi Building and her mother began to fade away, and she seemed to transform into a light, drifting cloud, blown between the green mountains.

It was the mountain path from the Shifang Mountain scroll.

The mountain path, covered in mist, was being walked down by the red-haired Demon Lord, holding a child in his arms.

He showed no sign of sadness, still arguing with the weak child in his arms.

Qian was blown by the wind, landing beside him, easily catching up with his steps. Despite usually walking with large strides, the Demon Lord’s steps were slow now.

Qian heard the voice of the child in Father Brother’s arms calling out, “Brother.”

“Father.”

Father Brother seemed to have not heard, remaining silent.

Qian sniffled, grabbing the black hem of Father Brother’s clothes, and slowly followed him. Suddenly, after a long while, he finally responded.

Qian bumped her head against his leg, continuing to sob.

“Qian.”

“Qian…”

“Qian, it’s time to wake up.”

Someone was calling her name. Qian felt her eyes wet, and her eyelids felt stuck together, unable to open.

Warm, rough fingers wiped over her eyes, and when Qian opened her eyes, she saw Master Wuxin’s gentle and calm face, which made her feel at ease. The strong sadness she had felt earlier seemed like a dream, fading as she woke up.

Qian lay in Wuxin’s arms as he picked her up.

Sniffling, she stared at his eyes, then reached out with her soft, short fingers to touch the wrinkles around his eyes.

“Dad, how, how did you, get so old again?” Qian hiccupped, asking.

They were still on the small temple’s platform, but the stars had disappeared, leaving only the last one, twinkling in the sky that was now turning light blue with the first light of dawn.

The night had passed.

Qian then noticed beside her, the old man with the snowy white beard was disappearing. The moment his body vanished from the monk’s robes, the colorful shadow in the sky gathered into a star and swiftly streaked across the sky.

As she watched that falling star, Qian vaguely heard the old man’s joyful laughter.

“Master has completed his journey.” Mingzhen, who had sat by the whole night, said, holding the sleeping Junior Disciple. His eyes were red, just like Qian’s.

Qian looked around in confusion, and Wuxin reached out to gently pat her head.

Through Junior Disciple’s peaceful passing, Wuxin now understood the karmic connections beyond Qian, and his understanding of the world’s rules became clearer.

The Buddha says, “A single flower is a world. Everything and everyone forms their own realm, and beyond the world, there are even broader realms.”

To grasp her fate and find a glimmer of hope for her, Wuxin exhausted much of his cultivation, making him look even older. Now, he appeared to be in his fifties or sixties.

However, he was unmoved by the changes in his appearance, and his attitude towards Qian remained the same as always.

With Junior Disciple’s passing, leaving behind two young disciples, Wuxin had already communicated with Junior Disciple and brought them down the mountain together.

Mingzhen packed some items into a backpack, holding Junior Disciple and following his senior master down the mountain.

He didn’t ask where they were going. After emerging from the sadness of his master’s departure, he returned to his eager, caring nature, worried that his elderly master wouldn’t be able to carry the child, and so he wanted to help carry Qian.

The simple-minded Mingde was very obedient. He usually practiced martial arts alongside Senior Disciple and didn’t need to be carried, walking obediently on his own.

When Qian saw this, she insisted on walking herself. The two children, together, always seemed to develop some inexplicable competitive streak.

Qian took the initiative to walk on her own, and Wuxin showed a look of approval.

However, it didn’t take long before Qian started walking slower and slower. The little chubby girl, who didn’t enjoy exercising, couldn’t keep up with the small bald boy, who had just gotten off the ground and was being pulled by Senior Disciple for martial arts practice. She couldn’t move anymore.

Unable to move, but too stubborn to admit defeat, she ended up crying. The three versions of the bald-headed monks—old, middle-aged, and young—couldn’t do anything about it and could only watch her cry and walk at the same time.

And Mingde, being simple-minded, didn’t know what to do when he saw Qian crying. Instead, he smiled at her.

Feeling mocked, Qian cried even louder.

Though she cried, the two children were still able to play together, although it was mostly Qian who led Mingde in their games.

She decided what to play, and the clueless Mingde often became stunned by what Qian said, clumsily playing games with her.

When they played the clapping game, he would often be confused about which hand to use.

When playing Go with small stones, he kept placing the stones incorrectly. Every time he made a mistake, Qian would correct him, again and again. Eventually, she got so frustrated that she slapped his hand.

One mistake, one slap. Their hands turned red from the slapping. Even so, the little monk, who had never had a playmate, still enjoyed playing with Qian.

Mingzhen spent every day helping Mingde with his lessons, and Qian insisted on joining in.

When reciting scriptures, the two children made a mess of words, unable to pronounce them clearly. Mingzhen didn’t bother correcting them and, when it was time to practice, he became strict.

Mingde would grab a stick taller than himself. Every time his posture wasn’t right, Senior Disciple would scold him. Despite his young age, he was naturally suited to being a Martial Monk, and he wielded the stick with form, unlike that silly boy who couldn’t play games.

Qian took Wuxin’s staff and began to wave it beside him.

Mingzhen watched as she spun around, rubbing the famous staff on the ground. It was almost unbearable to watch.

He glanced at his master, hoping he would stop her, but Wuxin only smiled and looked at the child, showing no intention of stopping her.

Mingzhen had no choice but to step forward.

“Qian, if you want to learn, you should use a lighter stick. You can’t lift Master’s staff, and you won’t be able to swing it.”

Qian refused to let go, and after some thought, Mingzhen swapped Mingde’s stick with hers. This time, he successfully exchanged it for Master’s staff.

Mingde was much easier to deal with. He swapped his stick and was happy to see a new companion to play with. He was much happier.

But the teacher, Mingzhen, wasn’t so happy. He realized Qian was much harder to teach than Junior Disciple.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t learn—she was very smart and could pick things up after one or two lessons. The problem was she was too free-spirited and unruly.

Whenever he asked Junior Disciple to practice in place, Junior Disciple would obediently continue without needing to be told to stop. It was very easy and reassuring.

Qian was different. She could only stay obedient for a short time. Once she got tired, she would stop automatically, go drink some water, or suddenly lose interest and wander off to admire the scenery or play with little grass.

She herself was free to do as she pleased, but she would also drag Mingde along to play.

Often, when Mingzhen turned around, Junior Disciple, who had been practicing obediently, was now playing stick-fighting with Qian.

In the blink of an eye, both children had disappeared. He looked at his master, who was calmly closing his eyes, as though he hadn’t seen anything.

Mingzhen had no choice but to go find the two children and reason with them.

Junior Disciple, dragging his stick, only smiled and showed Mingzhen the stone he had just picked up.

Qian, with an innocent look on her face, would run to Venerable Master’s side and sit in his lap to escape the scolding of the bald-headed Senior Disciple, acting very cunning.

Mingzhen had been teaching Junior Disciple for three years, but he had never realized that raising children could be so troublesome. In order to teach, the once enthusiastic and helpful young man had turned into a hot-headed, irritable youth. His brows were constantly furrowed, trying to look more imposing.

In contrast, Wuxin, whose stress had shifted, had recently become much more serene. With his gradually aging face, he appeared even more kind and gentle.