Chapter 207: The Vijñaptimātratā Sect!

Days flew by, and before he knew it, the sixth day of the sixth month arrived.

Five quarters past the Mao hour.

Ice platforms blew cold air, dispelling the stifling humidity.

Liang Qu rose, dressed, and opened the window; daylight flooded into the room.

Summer had come.

He still remembered the last River God sacrifice—he had risen at this same hour, when the sky was barely light.

In another month, it would be Da Shu; then the cicadas would molt into adults, and it would no longer be this quiet.

Liang Qu looked down at the courtyard.

"Wulong!"

The black dog in the courtyard sat on the ground, tilting its head to stare at the white butterfly on the jujube tree branch, its ears drooping naturally; upon hearing its name, it lifted its paws and turned around.

"Woof!"

"Come here!"

The black dog lowered its body toward Liang Qu leaning out the window, raised its hindquarters, and leapt back and forth. It crept inch by inch to the wall's base, then climbed atop the wall, barked twice, its little tail wagging as if ready to take flight.

Liang Qu reached out and rubbed its head vigorously.

Blacktooth's little black dog had been alive for exactly thirty-four days; yesterday he had brought it home and named it Wulong, keeping it in his own courtyard.

It wasn't shy at all—after just one day, it had explored the entire three-hall courtyard and garden, familiarized itself with every corner, and proved itself a worthy watchdog.

"Come on, let's go eat breakfast."

Liang Qu opened the door and led the little black dog to the kitchen; upon entering, he spotted a long-absent figure devouring food voraciously, while Zhang Da was handing over steaming baskets of vegetarian buns one after another.

"Master?"

The old monk clasped his hands together and continued eating, one vegetarian bun after another, swift yet orderly, as if he hadn't eaten in days.

Indeed, ever since obtaining that scripture, the old monk had not stepped out of his room for seven straight days!

Not even to eat!

Of course, for a True Image Master, going seven days without food was nothing—any depletion could be replenished later.

"Zhang Da, please make extra vegetarian buns this morning; at month's end, I'll pay you thirty cash extra."

"Got it."

Zhang Da kept feeding firewood, stacking new steamer tiers, wiped her sweat, tired but not annoyed.

Liang Qu quickly pulled over a stool and sat before the old monk.

"Master, what's in that scripture that's made you forget food and sleep?"

"Have you ever heard of the Dharmalaksana Sect?"

Dharmalaksana Sect?

Liang Qu shook his head.

"Vijñaptimātratā Sect?"

Liang Qu's eyes lit up: "I've heard of that."

He had read enough Buddhist commentaries to know Master Master Huiyuan's towering status in Buddhism, including the Vijñaptimātratā Sect he founded.

Master Master Huiyuan's life story was remarkably simple—he bore a striking resemblance to a high monk from Liang Qu's previous life, even sharing the exact same lineage name.

That man was Xuanzang!

Master Master Huiyuan also had another name: Candana Venerable.

Unfortunately, though the two men shared identical early lives and nearly identical later ones, the Vijñaptimātratā Sect died out after only three generations.

Not just Consciousness-Only—similar fates befell the Huayan Sect as well.

These lofty doctrinal sects almost invariably perished after just a few transmissions.

Simply because they were too difficult.

Legend says the Consciousness-Only Sect originated from Maitreya Bodhisattva; the first patriarch of Huayan was an incarnation of Manjushri.

They began at the peak.

Second-generation disciples, taught directly by the master, fared well; third-generation disciples began reading it like celestial scripture.

In the long river of time, wars, fires, human calamities—no complete volumes survived, only scattered fragments.

"That scripture is…"

"The complete 'Treatise on the Establishment of Vijñaptimātratā'!"

"Handwritten?"

"A transcribed copy."

Liang Qu felt slight disappointment.

In Great Shun's martial path, many things weren't merely about content—identity mattered.

At the Hunting Tiger realm, one could sever a man with will alone; at True Image, it became even more mysterious.

If it were the high monk's own handwriting, it would carry his conviction, offering disciples a tremendous boost in comprehension.

But it wasn't handwritten, and it was notoriously difficult to begin with.

Even someone like the old monk might struggle to grasp it—no wonder he locked himself in his room for seven full days.

Would this scripture truly be useful?

It contained only doctrine, no martial techniques or cultivation methods—merely filling a gap in Buddhist history.

To the old monk, it was a priceless treasure; to him…

The old monk smiled faintly: "You are clinging to appearances."

"Master, what do you mean?"

"I speak of the 'Treatise on the Establishment of Vijñaptimātratā,' not the 'Treatise on Vijñaptimātratā'!"

"Ah, what's the difference?"

"The doctrine of the 'Treatise on Vijñaptimātratā' was said to be directly transmitted by Maitreya—profound and hard to comprehend, containing ten commentaries, each differing. Only Master Master Huiyuan ever truly understood it.

Legend says Master Huiyuan's disciples urged him to synthesize the ten commentaries into one unified text, but he insisted on preserving all ten, so future learners could experience the original forms.

For ordinary people, mastering even one commentary was already excruciating; how much more so ten? Only those of heavenly talent could manage it.

Now it seems that in his final years, Master Huiyuan sensed the declining number of disciples and, to preserve the Dharma lineage, composed the 'Treatise on the Establishment of Vijñaptimātratā' to make it easier for people to understand and learn.

Unfortunately, for reasons unknown, it never spread into the world—until now, it has reappeared."

The old monk's face glowed with joy.

He never imagined he would have such fortune; he looked again at Liang Qu.

This boy truly possessed great destiny and immense opportunity!

Liang Qu was stunned.

So after all this, it was just Master Master Huiyuan summarizing the Vijñaptimātratā doctrine again to make it easier to learn?

He asked eagerly: "Does it contain martial techniques or cultivation methods?"

"I've studied it only superficially; I dare not say for certain—but perhaps it does."

A lineage that died out due to its extreme difficulty—even if it was Candana Venerable's own summary—would take far more than seven days to fully comprehend; even a glimpse was beyond reach, not even a superficial understanding.

Not days—months, even years might be needed!

Good, good, good.

At least there was hope.

The Vijñaptimātratā Sect died out because some spent their entire lives trying to understand it—and then died before succeeding.

Candana Venerable himself had said: Only after reading every scripture could one enter the path.

Liang Qu was a complete novice in Buddhism—he knew only basic Buddhist history and terminology, had never read a complete scripture.

Unless he renounced the world and devoted himself entirely to study, he'd likely need until his sixties—completely not worth the cost. It all depended on whether the old monk delivered.

A True Image Master was surely a great Buddhist adept!

Activate, my external brain!

After breakfast, the old monk retreated into his room once more, buried in scripture.

Liang Qu practiced his Monkey Fist and Dragon Fubo exercises himself.

At three quarters past the Chen hour, villagers arrived to haul away the three beasts.

"Fat" and "cute" were manageable—not too heavy.

The red beast was clearly beyond ordinary strength; Liang Qu lent a hand, helping carry it to the dock.

"Thank you, Master Liang."

The villagers bowed repeatedly, then turned to arrange the sacrifice details.

Liang Qu looked out.

The altar faced the Great Marsh, towering imposingly—still thirteen steps, as last year.

But the span between each tier had doubled, making the entire altar twice as tall, even more magnificent.

Carvings adorned the side panels—each one a wave motif.

Before the altar, on both sides, stood several large drums; beyond the drums, seating rows were arranged for wealthy families to rest.

"Water Brother!"

Chen Jie, Li Li Libo, and Lin Lin Songbao rushed over, each holding a different sharp knife.

Cold blades gleamed—each a precious sword.

The weapon Liang Qu had borrowed temporarily from Lu Gang must be returned afterward.

Li Li Libo saw the red beast lying beside him still blinking, and shuddered all over.

The three drew lots, and he happened to draw the task of slaughtering the red beast.

"I was terrified—do we really have to kill that giant thing?"

Chen Zhao cast him a sidelong glance.

"You're scared?"

"Scared? What's there to be scared of?" Li Li Libo puffed out his chest.

He was nervous, but slaughtering the red beast was a once-in-a-lifetime honor!

"Then why are you shaking?"

"It's excitement—do you understand excitement?"

"The sacrifice begins at the third hour of noon. If you've got time to tremble, think about where to make the first cut."

……

At the first hour of noon.

A vast crowd gathered at the dock, so thick that it was overflowing.

Liang Qu, dressed in sacrificial robes, exclaimed in surprise: "Yixing Village… has that many people?"

Chen Zhao whispered in explanation: "Many are from other villages—some villages can't afford the River God sacrifice, so they come here!"