Chapter 154: Buddhist Disciple 14

Two stone Bodhisattvas, over two meters tall, turned out to be two Buddhist Cultivators.

They had been practicing at the mountain gate for many years, and because they remained motionless, their bodies had been covered in thick dust, large patches of moss had grown on them, and even wild flowers and grass had sprouted. The crowns they wore on their heads had nests built by birds.

When they moved their bodies and heads, Qian saw that one of them had a bunch of blue-purple wildflowers growing in his ear.

They both had fierce looks, nothing like Wuxin’s gentle demeanor, nor like Mingzhen’s upright and friendly appearance. Their large, bell-like eyes stared at Qian, making them enough to instill fear.

When they spoke, their voices were even fiercer, immediately saying:

“Buddhist Disciple, this child cannot enter Bodhi Mountain!”

Outsiders could only come to the mountain gate to pray or inquire. It was not easy to enter the Bodhi Temple.

When Mingzhen and Qian had arrived here, he had been quietly worried, but seeing that Wuxin Master was unfazed, he had relaxed. But now, being stopped, he immediately looked to his master, wanting to know how he would handle this situation.

As a Buddhist Disciple of Bodhi Mountain, Wuxin had a special status here and great prestige. However, that did not mean all Buddhist Cultivators would listen to him in every matter. At least the two Buddhist Cultivators at the gate right now were showing their insistence.

Wuxin smiled kindly, raised his staff, and lightly tapped it on the foreheads of the two Buddhist Cultivators, making a deep, bell-like sound as if striking a gong.

When the staff came down, it appeared slow, but the two Buddhist Cultivators couldn’t dodge it.

They froze in place, half-sitting and half-standing on two stone platforms, now resembling lifelike stone statues.

“…”

“Master, is… is this… okay?” Mingzhen couldn’t help but ask.

Wuxin sighed, “What problem could there be? It’s just an ordinary place, there’s nothing that can’t be entered. They consider this a forbidden area, but for Qian, it’s no different from the town at the foot of the mountain.”

“They’ve been guarding this place for so many years, becoming more like statues themselves. Let them continue guarding.”

Mingzhen watched as his master, who was showing signs of age, slowly moved forward, not daring to speak.

Along the way, Mingzhen had seen how gentle his master was, never angry, and he had almost forgotten about the stories his teacher once told him about Wuxin.

Without a word, his master would strike with his staff, a true Martial Monk style—Wuxin had once been the number one Martial Monk of the Spirit Realm.

Everyone knew that a Buddhist Disciple’s staff was most effective when used to “persuade” others with virtue.

“We will be staying here for a while,” Wuxin said, gently patting Qian’s head.

Qian shook her head. She wasn’t scared by the two fierce gatekeepers. On the contrary, she found them quite interesting.

She asked Mingzhen to pick her up, and she leaned against one of the “stone statues’” chest, reaching up to pluck a bunch of wildflowers growing near its ear.

“The flowers are pretty!”

Qian plucked the beautiful flowers and gave one to each of the three monks, fair and square.

As they walked further in, they were surrounded by towering ancient trees, with thick tree trunks that several people had to embrace. The high canopies were densely green, with birds flying gracefully, and the bird songs were deep and serene.

Many places beneath the trees were covered with green bricks and stone slabs, with frost and wind marks carved into them. Moss filled the cracks between the bricks, and tiny moss flowers were blooming.

After walking through this path, they reached some buildings. These looked no different from typical temple structures. Some were sweeping, and others were practicing staff techniques in the open space, while the incense smoke wafted from a large cauldron in front of the hall.

Qian squinted her eyes at the shiny bald heads under the sunlight.

Someone had already approached. He was a very young monk. He bowed to Wuxin and, with a curious glance at Qian, hesitantly asked, “Buddhist Disciple, who is this little guest?”

Outsiders rarely came to Bodhi Mountain, so he was more curious as to why such a young girl would come here.

Wuxin answered, “She is my child.”

“…” The young monk was stunned, a confused look on his face. “What?”

Nearby, several monks who were seriously practicing staff techniques had dropped their staffs onto the ground. One had even accidentally poked Senior Disciple in the rear, and another, startled, had let his staff fly out of his hand, hitting the Senior Disciple in the front row.

Clearly, they had all been straining their ears to listen to the conversation, and the news had shocked them greatly.

A Buddhist Disciple with a child?!

They hadn’t thought in that direction before, but now, seeing the child’s appearance, wasn’t it very similar to that of a Buddhist Disciple?

They were even more shocked!

Wuxin didn’t care about what the young disciples were thinking. He introduced Mingzhen and Mingde to them and explained that Qian would be staying here for a while.

The oldest disciple here wasn’t even a hundred years old. He had been trained by the Buddhist Disciple with a staff since childhood, and no one dared question his words. They just continued their work, as if in a dream.

Under Wuxin’s instructions, Mingzhen and Mingde quickly blended in with the group of monks.

Qian, however, wasn’t willing to stay here and play with the staffs anymore. Seeing that Wuxin was walking ahead, she quickly ran to catch up with him.

Although she got along well with Mingzhen and Mingde, when in a new environment, she preferred to stick close to her father.

“Don’t want to play here?” Wuxin asked, looking down at her as she tugged on his monk robe.

Qian nodded.

“Then come with me,” Wuxin said, taking her warm little hand and leading her forward.

Behind them, a group of young monks remained stunned, confused, and curious, gazing after their retreating figures.

They passed by a long stone wall, which was carved with countless half-human-sized caves. Each cave contained a monk sitting cross-legged inside.

The caves were ancient and narrow, but the people inside sat motionless.

As Wuxin led Qian past, the monks did not open their eyes.

Qian, nearing one of the low caves, quietly reached out and touched one of the monks’ legs to confirm that they were alive. She quickly withdrew her hand and ran back to Wuxin’s feet, following him step by step.

“They are meditating here,” Wuxin explained to her.

Qian thought for a moment and said, “Are they sleeping here?”

“…Perhaps,” Wuxin replied. For a child, it didn’t make much difference.

“Then I won’t disturb them,” Qian whispered, covering her mouth.

But this path was too long. Qian continued to observe the people inside the caves and accidentally made eye contact with one of the monks who had opened his eyes.

His eyes were a clear amber color. When Qian was looked at by him, she suddenly felt a chill in her head, a jolt that cleared the sleepiness she had felt while walking in the warm sunlight earlier. She became unusually alert.

Fortunately, he only glanced at her before closing his eyes again, not looking any longer.

After walking a few more steps, Qian saw another monk in a cave open his eyes and look at her. This monk’s eyes were pitch black, and when their gazes met, a loud, drumming sound echoed in Qian’s head. It was a bit noisy, causing her mind to buzz, much like when she heard her father, Venerable Master, muttering.

Wuxin, holding her hand, used his staff to tap the ground.

“Sit in meditation and calm your mind. Do not be disturbed by external things.”

After he spoke these words, for the rest of the way, Qian did not see a single monk open his eyes again.

Wuxin led Qian to the Lotus Pond, telling her that this was his place of meditation.

The Lotus Pond appeared much more interesting than the serene stone paths shaded by trees they had passed earlier. The pond was filled with lotus leaves and flowers, giving off a fragrant aroma, with a small stone platform in the center.

Numerous red dragonflies flew by the pond, and red and gold koi fish swam in the water.

The fish seemed curious about Qian as well. As she leaned closer to the edge of the pond, their heads popped out of the water in a tight cluster.

Qian crouched at the edge, watching them, and before long, drool started to drip from her mouth.

The large, plump fish that had been dripped on immediately dove back into the water, causing the other koi nearby to follow and disappear under the lotus leaves.

A hand reached out in front of her, holding several green lotus seeds in its palm.

They were large lotus seeds, and Qian could only hold four with one hand. She immediately bent her head to start gnawing on the lotus seed skins.

Wuxin sat by the pond, peeling lotus pods for her. Qian only saw the lotus flowers in the pond and didn’t notice any lotus pods. Wuxin then showed her one.

A flower bloomed and withered in his hand, the lotus seeds swelling up before eventually ripening, all in an instant.

After much effort, Qian finally gnawed out a pitiful lotus seed, which she handed to Wuxin’s dry, loose hand for him to eat.

Wuxin also ate it and then gave her another handful of green lotus seeds.

The fresh lotus seeds, when bitten, were sweet and refreshing, like drinking a scoop of cold water on a hot day. Qian swung her head and her two little braids, filling both her pockets with delicious lotus seeds.

When Mingzhen came to call her for lunch, Qian was still busy eating lotus seeds.

Unlike the misunderstanding of the Cultivation Realm towards the Spirit Realm, many monks at the Bodhi Temple still ate. Aside from those in deep meditation, the awake monks would often go to the dining hall to eat, believing that it was also a part of their cultivation.

The monks who cooked in the dining hall weren’t always the same. Aside from the chubby Yinhe Venerable Master Fu, different monks helped out every day.

Yinhe Venerable Master Fu did not do anything else except make steamed buns—big, white buns, which he had been making for hundreds of years. Because of this, his buns were extremely delicious.

Qian sat on a bench in the dining hall, next to Mingde, with Wuxin on her right.

The young monk distributing buns saw that Qian was sitting next to the Buddhist Disciple, hesitated for a moment, then skipped over him and handed Qian a large steamed bun.

After all, the Buddhist Disciple often meditated by the lotus pond and was one of the few who never came to the dining hall.

As for Qian, seeing that everyone else had received a large bun but her father had not, she immediately made a compassionate expression and generously tore her bun in half, giving half to her father.

“I’ll eat half, and Daddy can eat half,” Qian said, taking a bite of the bun.

Wuxin also took the other half and started eating.

The young monk who had distributed the buns earlier almost jumped out of his seat upon seeing this. He was about to come over with a remaining basket of buns to give another one to the Buddhist Disciple, but Wuxin waved his hand to stop him. The monk sat back down, looking somewhat dejected.

Mingzhen came over with several bowls of porridge. It was millet porridge, the kind that the monks here often ate.

With a mouthful of soft, sweet bun in her mouth, Qian drank a sip of porridge. Just then, Yinhe Venerable Master Fu, who had been making buns in the kitchen, walked over.

He wasn’t a monk who liked to engage in conversation with the younger monks. His favorite thing to do was to grind grains into flour and knead dough day after day, seemingly never growing tired of it.

He placed a small bowl in front of Qian without saying a word and then left.

This scene was even more surprising than seeing a Buddhist Disciple in the dining hall. The monks around them, who had occasionally glanced in their direction, were now staring more intently, curious to see what Yinhe Venerable Master Fu had brought over.

When the lid was removed, it revealed a bowl of pickled sour radishes, a fragrant, appetizing dish.

Someone murmured, “Master Yinhe not only makes buns but also pickles? I’ve never seen this before.”