Chapter 298: Choice

Qiao Ling's eyes fixed on Su Chen, holding something that didn't belong to a twelve-year-old child.

Su Chen did not answer immediately, but sat back down on the stone steps and patted the spot beside him.

Qiao Ling hesitated, then waved his hand toward the guards, signaling them to fall back.

The guard commander frowned but obeyed.

Qiao Ling sat down beside Su Chen.

"Why do you want to know about your past life?" Su Chen asked in return.

Qiao Ling lowered his head, staring at his hands.

"I often have the same dream," he said softly. "In it, there's a very tall mountain, covered in golden light, with many people kneeling before me. But I can't see their faces, and I don't know where that mountain is."

He looked up at Su Chen.

"Every time I wake up, I feel it wasn't just a dream."

Su Chen's heart stirred, but his expression remained unchanged.

Lingshan, ten thousand Buddhas paying homage.

The child's dream was the scene of the Tathagata preaching on Lingshan.

Though the mystery of the womb erased memories of past lives, the residual resonance of a Prajna-level being's Dao fruit is so profound that even the Six Realms of Rebirth cannot fully erase it.

"Master Daoist, you haven't answered me yet," Qiao Ling urged. "Can a person truly remember their past life?"

Su Chen did not answer directly, but spoke a sentence that seemed unrelated.

"Do you think the you of your past life and the you of this life are the same person?"

Qiao Ling froze.

Su Chen continued: "Buddhism speaks of reincarnation, saying past causes bring present results. But I cultivate the Dao—Daoism holds a different view."

"What's the difference?"

"Daoism believes the true self is singular," Su Chen said. "Your body will decay, your memories will fade, your past joys and sorrows, grudges and attachments—all will be washed away in reincarnation. To me, the you of your past life is not you."

"The real you is your present thought, your present choice. All past lives are but fleeting clouds."

Qiao Ling's pupils contracted slightly.

"But…" he frowned, "if nothing from the past matters, then what are those things I saw in my dream?"

"They are your chains," Su Chen said calmly.

Qiao Ling's body trembled.

Su Chen looked at him and said: "What you saw in your dream is not your past—it's the trace left by another. Those things belong to the past; they are him, not you. You are Qiao Ling, crown prince of Moye Kingdom, the child your mother carried for ten months."

"You owe nothing to your past life."

When these words fell, silence stretched long before the temple.

Sunlight filtered through the ancient tree's leaves, dappling Qiao Ling's face.

He sat motionless, silent for a long time.

Su Chen's words were unlike anything he had ever discussed with Master Kongji.

Su Chen's words had opened a door in his heart that had never been opened before.

Since he could remember, he had always felt different from others.

He could understand sutras no one else could, and speak truths even old monks could not articulate.

Everyone called him a prodigy, yet no one knew he had been tormented by one question—

Are these things truly mine, or someone else's?

Now someone told him they were not his.

Those things do not belong to you—you are yourself.

Qiao Ling suddenly felt his head swell, as if something he had never felt before was surging from deep within his mind.

Seeing Qiao Ling's condition, Su Chen's expression changed instantly.

A faint golden aura shimmered around Qiao Ling—extremely weak, yet the Buddhist energy within it was pure and true.

The residual resonance of the Tathagata's Dao fruit, left within his reincarnated body, had been triggered by Qiao Ling's sudden awakening.

Though the golden light was faint, if such a level of energy spread, the several Prajna-level beings in the Buddhist sect would surely sense it.

Su Chen did not hesitate—he pulled out the jade talisman Bai Ze had given him and immediately activated it.

The moment the talisman shattered, an invisible force surged from its fragments, forming a transparent barrier that enveloped Qiao Ling.

The golden aura instantly recoiled upon contact with this force, vanishing completely within two breaths.

The strange phenomenon on Qiao Ling's body subsided; the heavenly patterns were completely sealed.

But Su Chen did not relax—though the leakage of Buddhist light had lasted less than three breaths, for some beings, three breaths were enough.

Western Continent of Niuhe, Lingshan.

In an ancient temple within Lingshan's borders, the Ancient Buddha Ran Deng sat cross-legged on a cushion, his Buddhist aura steady as an abyss.

He had sat motionless there for a long time.

Since the Tathagata was cast into reincarnation, the entire Buddhist sect had been searching for his reincarnated body.

As the oldest Ancient Buddha in the sect, Ran Deng had been tasked by the current Tathagata, Buddha Maitreya, to use his spiritual power to calculate the Tathagata's reincarnated form.

Suddenly, Ran Deng's still body trembled slightly.

He snapped open his eyes.

He sensed an extremely faint ripple of karmic disturbance—though it vanished in an instant.

But he was certain: that was the Buddha-nature fluctuation of the Tathagata.

Though fleeting, he had sensed its direction: southwest, in Southern Jambudvipa.

Ran Deng's expression shifted several times, but in the end, he sent the information to Maitreya.

In the Great Thunder Sound Temple, Maitreya sat upon the Nine-Petaled Lotus Throne. After receiving Ran Deng's message, he nodded slightly and said: "Transmit my decree: summon the Arhats Jianglong and Fuhu."

Soon, Jianglong and Fuhu arrived before him and bowed: "We pay homage to the Tathagata."

"Jianglong, Fuhu."

"Just now, Ancient Buddha Ran Deng sensed a faint trace of the Tathagata's aura—southwest in Southern Jambudvipa. Go investigate immediately."

Jianglong and Fuhu exchanged glances, then clasped their hands together.

"Yes."

Two beams of Buddhist light shot skyward, piercing through the clouds, racing toward Southern Jambudvipa.

Outside Yunze Temple, Qiao Ling slowly opened his eyes.

His gaze was distant.

Just now, for an instant, he had seen countless figures clad in kasayas kneeling before him in a golden hall…

But those images did not feel familiar to him.

On the contrary, he felt repulsion—an instinctive, soul-deep resistance.

He did not like that feeling.

Qiao Ling came back to himself, looked up at Su Chen.

The middle-aged Daoist was watching him, his gaze calm, as if observing an ordinary child.

Qiao Ling suddenly felt that what this man had said was right.

Those things truly did not belong to him.

"Master Daoist," Qiao Ling said, his voice hoarse, "is there something wrong with me?"

Su Chen paused, considered briefly, then spoke.

"You carry immense karmic debt," he said without further concealment. "Someone has been searching for you."

"Who?"

"The Buddhist sect."

Qiao Ling blinked: "Why are they looking for me?"

"Because of your past life," Su Chen said, looking at him. "Your past life was extraordinary—they want you to become him again. I've temporarily concealed your identity so you have time to decide what kind of person you truly wish to be."

After hearing Su Chen's words, Qiao Ling sat on the stone steps and thought for a long time.

"Master Daoist," Qiao Ling suddenly looked up, "why did you come to find me? To stop me from becoming him?"

Su Chen did not deny it.

"Yes," he said. "I don't want you to become him, because it doesn't serve my interests—but I also don't want to control you. I can give you a choice: the path you walk afterward, you choose yourself. I won't decide for you."

Qiao Ling stared into his eyes for a long time.

Then the twelve-year-old boy stood up, brushed the dust from his robes, and said earnestly to Su Chen: "Master Daoist, I want to become myself."