Chapter 38: Sandalwood Buddha Carving

Qin Yun visited several craft shops and finally acquired a piece of premium Indian old-sandalwood from a shop owner, who claimed it was his personal collection—not usually for sale—but relented after Qin Yun’s persistent pleas.

This piece of old-sandalwood weighed over two hundred grams, and the owner asked twelve thousand yuan for it.

Qin Yun didn’t haggle at all—he paid promptly and bought it. After all, this was aged sandalwood, sinkable in water, flawless, uncracked, richly oily, and fragrant for eternity. The owner hadn’t lied—it was truly top-grade.

With good luck, such old-sandalwood could fetch an even higher price; twelve thousand yuan was practically a steal. He also asked the owner to throw in a few handy tools, since the carving knives at the guesthouse weren’t particularly good—and if he was using premium material, he couldn’t afford to use inferior tools.

With the sandalwood in hand, he returned to the rooftop of the guesthouse.

Su Ying was seated across from him, scrolling through her phone to music, unaware of Qin Yun’s return. He glanced at her but didn’t call out.

Sitting in the corner, he held the old-sandalwood in his hands and began planning its use. If not carefully planned, carving directly into the entire block would waste precious material—every gram was money, after all.

He decided: carve a Buddha pendant for his mother using deep relief and openwork techniques; make about ten standard wearable pieces to give to family; and carve an Avalokiteshvara for himself.

After planning, he set the tools aside, picked up a fine-tooth hand saw from the ground, and began cutting the old-sandalwood. Since the wood was expensive, he didn’t want to waste any, so he used a bow saw to trace curved outlines, minimizing material loss.

His carving skill was master-level—his eyes were his ruler—and he effortlessly cut out fourteen small blanks ready for carving.

The old-sandalwood was fragrant. As he worked, several people had already gathered nearby drawn by the scent.

One aunt pointed at the wood and asked: “Young man, why is this wood so fragrant?”

Qin Yun smiled, put down the saw, and explained: “Auntie, this is sandalwood—it’s naturally fragrant.”

“Oh, so this is sandalwood! I thought it smelled familiar.” The aunt chuckled. “Young man, could you give me a piece? I’d put it in my bathroom—it’d work great.”

Before Qin Yun could refuse, a nearby uncle spoke up: “Sister, this sandalwood is extremely expensive. Don’t be fooled by its size—this tiny piece costs hundreds.”

The aunt was startled, then skeptical: “What kind of wood is that expensive? Impossible! Young man, are you kidding me?”

Qin Yun smiled: “Auntie, I paid twelve thousand yuan for the whole block. One small piece is roughly a thousand.”

“That much?!” The aunt’s eyes widened, but she no longer dared ask—she turned and walked away immediately.

The uncle beside her, however, stayed put, as if waiting to see what Qin Yun would carve. Others who passed by or stopped to watch soon drifted off.

Qin Yun paid no mind to the onlookers. He considered recording his carving process but realized his tripod was in his room.

He stood up and called out to Su Ying, still scrolling on her phone: “Su Ying.”

Su Ying looked up, immediately walked over: “When did you get back?”

“Just now. Can you watch this for me? I’ll go get the tripod from my room.”

“Okay, go ahead.” Su Ying glanced at the wood on the table—the sandalwood scent hit her strongly.

Qin Yun returned quickly, fetched the tripod in minutes, set up his phone, and aimed it at his hands.

“You know wood carving?” Su Ying was surprised—carving was difficult for ordinary people, and those who practiced it were usually art students. In daily life, she’d never met anyone with this skill.

“Yeah, I know a bit.”

Qin Yun tapped record and prepared to begin carving.

Fortunately, the rooftop lights were bright enough—no dimness to ruin the phone’s footage with noise.

He first used a flat file to quickly smooth the sawn edges, then switched to a round file to follow the wood grain, gradually shaping the Buddha’s rounded shoulders and the lotus base’s outline. With each stroke, the blank grew more defined.

Su Ying didn’t understand carving. The uncle beside her didn’t either—they couldn’t judge technically. But to them, the wood seemed to contain a fixed form hidden inside, and Qin Yun was simply using tools to chip away the outer shell, revealing its true shape.

Qin Yun’s right hand was steady as an old dog—his blade’s pressure, angle, and wrist force flowed with effortless precision.

Neither blinked, yet slowly the Buddha’s flowing robes, layered lotus petals, and even the auspicious cloud halo emerged. As he worked, more onlookers gathered—soon, seven or eight people stood around.

Everyone watched curiously; some even pulled out their phones to film.

Qin Yun’s cuts followed the wood grain precisely, each motion delicate. When carving the openwork lotus petals, he switched to a fine openwork chisel, first drilling a tiny hole at the lotus base with a pointed awl, then slowly inserting the blade and gently cutting along the petal contours. He held his breath, moving through the layered petals, removing excess wood while deliberately preserving thickness at the petal roots to ensure structural stability.

He occasionally checked that all his movements stayed within the phone’s frame, avoiding wasted footage.

Su Ying’s initial surprise gradually turned to admiration, and when the Buddha finally took shape, a deep desire rose in her heart—it was simply too exquisite.

Qin Yun carefully inspected the piece, then polished and buffed it. After showing the finished product on camera, he turned off the recording.

At that moment, one onlooker called out: “Brother, will you sell this Buddha? I’ll give you three thousand.”

Qin Yun turned, smiled: “Sorry, it’s carved for my mother.”

The man understood—he wouldn’t get it. He smiled and pointed to the other wood: “But you’ve got more material. Sell me one. I’ll pay you for your labor.”

Hearing this, several other uncles and aunts also began asking to buy. But Qin Yun had already planned every piece. Even if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have sold.

Three thousand, five thousand—too cheap.

A plain old-sandalwood pendant like this, in a shop, could cost ten thousand and still be hard to find. Add Qin Yun’s craftsmanship, and its value soared.

Besides, if he agreed, they’d still feel three thousand was too much—buying from a person versus a store carries different psychological weight.

“Sorry, I’ve already planned all these pieces. If you want to buy, check nearby shops—they have finished products too.”

They pleaded again, but Qin Yun shook his head.

The young people didn’t mind, but several older aunts muttered unpleasantly. Qin Yun ignored them as if wind brushed past. Su Ying, however, grew angry and shot back, driving the aunts away in frustration.

Qin Yun glanced at her, amused—as if he’d read her thoughts.

But giving it away? Impossible. If she asked to buy, he wouldn’t mind.

The first piece he planned to gift to a certain aunt in his family—to test his skill on something simple.

The piece meant for his mother? He couldn’t finish it quickly—even at his master level, it would take two or three days of full focus.

With time left, he carved two more, then stopped.

Until they returned to their rooms, Su Ying never made her request—and Qin Yun naturally said nothing.

They were strangers—he wasn’t that generous.

…

The next day, he descended from the Alchemy Peak, walked ten minutes to Yueling Chan Monastery, activated the temple, then climbed along Incense Cloud Path to Xianghui Jingyuan. He then ascended directly to Foding Mountain and arrived at Huiji Chan Temple.

Qin Yun looked down—the winding mountain path, dense forests, and temple buildings half-hidden among trees lay before him. Farther still, the vast sea and mountains stretched out; under the sun, the ocean shimmered gold, breathtakingly beautiful.

At that moment, a video quietly went viral on Douyin.

Anything tied to Putuo Mountain naturally drew traffic. The uploader was just an ordinary tourist who had fully recorded Qin Yun carving the Buddha and uploaded it casually to Douyin.

The algorithm pushed it—views and comments slowly grew.

“Incredible—who’s this master?”

“Want to buy one! I want a pendant like this.”

“If it’s hand-carved like this, I’d pay gladly—but most Putuo Mountain carvings are machine-made, no soul at all.”

“Holy shit—that’s old-sandalwood! This guy doesn’t even pause his cuts—so badass.”

“Doesn’t the carver’s back look like that rock-climbing god?”

“Yeah… kinda similar. But it’s dark, and he’s facing away—can’t see his face. Still, I doubt it’s the same person—who’s good at rock climbing and carving?”

“I think it’s probably the same. Rock climbers have strong hands—perfect for carving.”

When Su Ying woke up, she saw the video. At first puzzled by the comments, her eyes nearly popped out when one comment led her to another video.

She never imagined the refined Qin Yun was also a rock-climbing god.

The terrifying sequence on Fanzi Cliff left her speechless.

Without hesitation, she posted a comment under the carving video: “The carver is the rock-climbing god—I’m on Putuo Mountain right now, saw him last night.”

Sadly, her comment was quickly buried, drawing no attention. Su Ying grew furious.

She posted another comment—same result. Someone even replied: “Stop trying to get attention.” Su Ying nearly smashed her phone.

Qin Yun knew nothing of this. After leaving Shancai Ancient Cave, he boarded a boat at Shangudao Head, crossed to Luojia Mountain, visited Yuantong Chanlin, Dabeidian, Dajue Chan Yuan, and Pumen An, then returned by boat to the main island for his final stop: Meifu Chan Monastery.

After spending ten minutes at Meifu Chan Monastery, he successfully activated all thirty temples on Putuo Mountain—the check-in task was complete.

[Check-in task completed, received random reward: Combat Skill +1]

[Combat Skill Level 1: Moves flow effortlessly, mastery of all techniques, every punch and stance decides victory]