Chapter 789: Master Zhikong's Opportunity

Broken bricks and shattered tiles lay in chaos across the village.

Fortunately, there were still some usable rotten timbers; hastily patched together, they could barely serve as shelter for people.

Yet these wooden beams were quite heavy, far too much for the starving refugees to move.

These dozen or so wooden huts were all built by the hands of that thin man alone.

That man bore the look of one weathered by storms; his lips were dry, he wore a set of tattered cloth robes, and though he did not appear tall or strong, no one knew how many roads he had walked, for the straw sandals beneath his feet had long been worn into an unrecognizable mess.

Most striking was his head; his hair seemed to have just grown back, a bristle-like buzz cut resembling pig bristles.

At this moment, the man carried a round log thicker than his own body, striding swiftly through the crowd; facing the gratitude of many refugees, he merely offered a somewhat shy smile.

"Heroic Master, please have some water..."

A timid child approached cautiously, holding out a broken shard of porcelain containing only half its volume, filled with precious clear water.

The man paused, bent down, dipped his fingertip into the water, casually wiped his lips, then chuckled and rubbed the child's head: "I have enough, take it back."

War raged endlessly in the Eastern Continent; water and grain were more valuable than human lives.

How could the child understand the meaning behind those words? He merely thought this Master, who possessed divine strength, truly had the power to quench thirst with a single drop; envious, he licked his lips, wishing he too possessed such a skill, so he would never again feel unbearable hunger or thirst.

Clutching the porcelain shard, he turned and ran toward the black, thin old man; had it not been for the Master being here, his grandfather, crippled and unable to move, would long ago have been eaten by others.

However, before he could take two steps, the child crashed headlong to the ground.

He lifted his head, and upon seeing the scene before him, his round eyes instantly filled with fear; at an age when one should know nothing, he had already been forced to learn how to distinguish danger.

In the Eastern Continent, these bald-headed Monks were the greatest danger.

A squad of Warrior Monks stepped into the village with blank expressions, prowling like lions and tigers over this territory just regained; they crushed the porcelain shards on the ground, and wherever their gazes swept, refugees bowed their heads and knelt.

Soon, they turned their attention to the man ahead.

Without much pleasantries, several staffs held level with the eyebrows were swiftly pressed onto the shoulders of the buzz-cut man, forcibly forcing him to kneel.

"Which sect's disciple are you? Who allowed you to preach here?"

The leader approached calmly, squatted down, and reached out to lift the man's chin.

A sixth-grade cultivation; where could he not roam freely? Yet he disguised himself in this manner, clearly intending to steal incense offerings.

Fortunately, the other party radiated the aura of a lay practitioner, not a member of the Xian Sect; he must be a disciple from one of the other two Nan Xumi Mountains, come to the Eastern Continent to scavenge; otherwise, these staffs would not merely be holding him down now—they would have long since smashed this head to pieces.

"I am no disciple; I am merely passing through, doing a few things on the way."

The buzz-cut man did not struggle, offering only a simple explanation.

Seeing the man unwilling to reveal his lineage, the leader assumed he had been caught scavenging and, feeling ashamed, did not intend to press the matter further.

After all, under the current situation, those lofty Great Luo Immortals and Bodhisattvas were naturally busy fighting over sacred grounds, while the lower-level cultivators below also sought to get a bowl of soup; such things were not uncommon in the Eastern Continent. Since they all belonged to the same teaching, there was no need to exterminate them completely; driving them away would suffice.

With this thought, he raised his arm, signaling his fellow disciples to withdraw their staffs, then spoke coldly: "If your hands are too idle, find something for yourselves to do; do not stretch toward the Eastern Continent. Leave this place immediately. If we see you again, it will not end so easily."

With those words spoken, the leader led his fellow disciples away in high spirits.

The buzz-cut man remained silent for a long time, then smiled helplessly, hoisted the round log once more, placed it at the last hut, turned around, picked up the frightened child who dared not move, and returned him to the old man's side.

"Master."

The old man gratefully accepted the child first, then his lips moved twice: "Why did you not tell them you are also...? You would not have to suffer such humiliation."

He remembered clearly that when this Master first arrived here, his gleaming bald head, paired with those cloth robes, made him look far more like a high monk saving the world than this group of Warrior Monks.

"I was."

Master Zhikong brushed the dust from his palms, appearing utterly carefree, and smiled: "Now I do not wish to be."

Since witnessing firsthand how his fellow disciples plotted to take the life of my lord Shen, and since being captured alive by the Thousand-Armed Bodhisattva and transformed into a black dog, until now, having seen how the two Xian Sects treat the mortal world, he no longer felt the pride he once had in being a disciple of a great teaching.

Thus, he had grown his beard and hair, making his appearance far more ragged, yet his heart had become cleaner.

"It seems fighting is about to break out again." The old man, holding the child, looked timidly toward Songfeng Fucheng; some days ago, these places had been controlled by those Immortals who rode clouds and flew through the sky, their battles shaking the earth and mountains, truly terrifying; now, the situation seemed to have changed again.

"..."

Master Zhikong pressed his lips together, waved his hand to signal the old man and child not to fear, then turned and walked toward the hillside, gazing far in the direction of Songfeng Fucheng as well.

He could feel how violently the aura was fluctuating in that seemingly calm place.

The Warrior Monks' return meant the Sanxian Sect had been defeated, yet the rippling aura indicated those Immortals refused to give up; a desperate final struggle was at hand. Once it exploded, how many of the people here would survive remained unknown.

"Sigh."

He shook his head and let out a long sigh.

Only by witnessing firsthand the tragic state of the other Dazhou could one understand what a great merit it was for my lord Shen to intervene and protect the entire Da Nanzhou.

Pity there is no second my lord Shen in the Eastern Continent, and my own strength is far too low; I can only do trivial, insignificant things.

Master Zhikong sighed, yet did not indulge in self-pity.

In the chaotic turmoil of the world, some undertake great deeds to save all beings; overwhelmed, they cannot attend to the small details, so someone must fill this gap.

He thought that even if my lord Shen could spare the time, he would not stand idly by watching these refugees wander homeless; he would surely intervene to build them houses and find them food.

Thinking of that lord, Master Zhikong's face regained the courage to continue onward.

He turned, about to leave the hillside.

Just then, the sound of cicadas suddenly rang in his ears; it was the season of entering winter; where were the cicadas?

"Master, could you help me pick it up?"

Master Zhikong turned his head and discovered beneath a large tree beside him, a little girl with rosy lips and white teeth had appeared; she wore her hair in twin horn-like braids, looked obedient and cute, wore a tattered padded dress, and gazed at him with a plea, pointing forcefully toward the treetop.

"..."

Master Zhikong closed his eyes, took a deep breath, as if adjusting his state of mind.

After a long while, he walked over quickly, casually plucked the object from the treetop, and upon opening his hand, saw a finely crafted golden cicada, no larger than a thumb, yet lifelike.

Yet no matter how vivid it appeared, it was merely an inanimate object; it could not produce the sound of a cicada.

"Master, may I trade with you?"

The little girl blinked her eyes, cautiously extended her palm; resting in her palm was a living cicada, its breath faint and dying.

Master Zhikong stood silently in place for a long time without speaking.

Only when he saw the little girl furrow her brows slightly did he speak softly: "In a time of peace, the value of a Jin Chan is naturally greater than that of a living cicada, but in these times, what I hold in my hand is truly not worth as much as a bug that can fill the mouth."

It is rumored that Bodhisattvas and true Buddhas like to disguise themselves to enlighten the world.

The noisy cicada songs of winter, the gold that suddenly appeared on the tree—all indicated this was an opportunity.

Master Zhikong did not speak directly, but merely hinted tactfully that the other party had strayed too far from the human world and knew nothing of worldly matters; this method of testing was also somewhat outdated and clichéd.

Once the truth is revealed, the opportunity naturally ceases to exist.

"So, you won't trade?" the little girl raised her eyebrows.

Master Zhikong lowered his eyes slightly; after a moment, he tugged at the corners of his mouth: "I will trade."

"Why trade?" this time it was the little girl's turn to be confused; she had not intended to make things difficult for the other party, which was why she chose this method full of flaws, equivalent to leaking the answers in advance.

If one were a clever person, they would simply go with the flow and accept this opportunity.

If one were a fool, failing to understand even this meant there was truly no hope.

Yet this little monk before him had clearly seen through it, yet chose to subtly mock himself, and after mocking, agreed to trade his Jin Chan for the other's living cicada.

"Because..." Master Zhikong thought for a long time, then raised his head: "Too many, too many lives in the Eastern Continent have died; if one can live, let it live."

Having said this, he reached out his hand directly toward the little girl.

Master Zhikong rejected the opportunity, wanting only a bug, and in the process insulted the other party once more.

"..."

The little girl stared at him speechlessly; after a moment, she burst out laughing.

Actually, it was somewhat interesting.

She really wanted to know what reaction this rare little monk in the world, who dared to mock her to her face, would have once he learned exactly what he had just accepted.

"I have raised this cicada for many years; you must take good care of it."

She extended her tender, green-onion-white small hand; the moment their fingertips touched, the cicada that had been half-dead just now suddenly glowed with Jin Guang, then spread its wings and landed in Master Zhikong's palm.

At the same time, Master Zhikong's vision was instantly filled with yellow clouds.

By the time the mist cleared.

He found himself amidst mountains echoing with Buddhist chants; the moment he looked up, he was startled to discover he had become a buzzing Jin Chan, and ahead, the mountain range spanning the vast sky was a gigantic palm.

Even a single palm line on it was, for him, a deep ravine that no amount of frantic flapping could ever cross.

Behind, the master of the palm, draped in a crimson kasaya with a kind face, sat cross-legged upon a twelve-petaled golden lotus, smiling and extending his hand toward him.

In that instant, Buddhist chants like a great bell and a large drum rang in Master Zhikong's ears.

"From this day forth, you shall be the second disciple under this old monk's seat, your Dharma name... Jin Chanzi."

Accompanying the Buddhist chants, everything just now, dreamlike and illusory, slowly faded away.

Master Zhikong returned to that small hillside; before him was still that little girl, but neither the Jin Chan nor the living cicada were to be seen.

No, they were still there, within his own body.

Master Zhikong felt that immense, surging power coursing through his body; for a moment, his mind went blank and at a loss.

By the time he came to his senses, the little girl had not waited for the imagined joyful prostration; this monk remained as stubborn as a mule, staring fixedly at her.

"You do not know who I am?" the little girl stood with her hands behind her back.

"This humble cultivator greets the Future World Honored One," Master Zhikong casually clasped his hands in a bow, yet refused to bow his head.

Upon hearing the words "Future," the girl's face twitched imperceptibly.

"Future" meant the time had not yet come, so the Future World Honored One could not truly be counted as the true World Honored One.

"Wrong; you should now address me as Master," she waved her finger.

"..."

Master Zhikong finally shifted his gaze, the meaning clear and resolute: he simply refused to call her that.

"Do you know why I take you in?" the little girl slowly lowered her hand.

"Because this humble cultivator possesses a Buddha-heart." Master Zhikong was merely a bit stubborn sometimes, not truly stupid; from the moment the Thousand-Armed Bodhisattva captured him, even though nothing could be forced out of him, yet in the end she could not bear to kill him directly, he knew how precious this so-called Buddha-heart was.

"Not stupid after all, but that is only one reason."

The Future World Honored One smiled; only one with a Buddha-heart could bear the two paths she had prepared, and moreover, this little monk's Buddha-heart was even far superior to that of the Jin Chan; digesting the Jin Chan fruit seat slightly would allow him to ascend to the rank of Bodhisattva.

"There is another point, but it is inconvenient to explain in detail to you now."

Cultivators with a Buddha-heart were few, but not so few that only one person would suffice.

The more important reason was that the Future World Honored One saw her own opportunity upon the other party... Of course, this opportunity was not the other party themselves, but at least this little monk had some connection to that opportunity, having traveled together for a time in the past.

Of course, he had no intention of forcing answers now; since it was an opportunity, it should be followed according to fate; deliberate interference would be unbecoming; one need only wait patiently.

"In any case, everything you hate has nothing to do with this master."

The appearance of the Future World Honored One began to change rapidly; male, female, old, young, beggar, wealthy merchant—all forms of the world shifted at will, quickly becoming an old man with white beard and hair, leaning on a cane.

He looked at Master Zhikong meaningfully: "On the contrary, this master should be the one least willing to see this scene occur, even more so than the one in the Imperial City."

"Move forward; you will understand eventually."

He tapped his cane: "Even if we take ten thousand steps back, you cannot resist, so do not dawdle; moreover, you can now do more things."

"..."

Master Zhikong clenched his palms tightly; the thing he feared most was that this Future World Honored One would harm Lord Shen.

But now the other party had not asked; if he handled it improperly and ended up with his soul searched, it would only harm Lord Shen.

It would be better to stabilize this World Honored One first and buy Lord Shen some more time.

He had personally witnessed Shen Yi's rise and knew that for gods, Buddhas, and Immortal Honored Ones, a few years or even a few months in the blink of an eye could, when applied to Lord Shen, manifest what kind of miracle.

"Master Zhikong humbly obeys the Dharma decree."

The monk finally clasped his palms together in a bow; before he could raise his head, a cane strike landed on his skull.

"Wrong again. It is the Golden Cicada Disciple." The old man walked slowly forward.

Master Zhikong rubbed his head and could only follow, appearing obedient while secretly rolling his eyes to start gathering news for Shen Yi: "Master, you left Mount Nan Xumi; what is the purpose of this journey to the Eastern Continent?"

"I saw that a great event is about to happen here, so I came to take a look."

The Future Buddha had no intention of hiding anything; at their level, even if they could not see through the Heavenly Secrets, they could still catch a few hints in advance.

He rubbed his brow, somewhat helpless: "And to avoid that person as well."

As one of the Three Great Buddhas, he was not afraid of the Ancestral God, but simply had no desire to get entangled with him; with the other three continents in such chaos, that old thing, upon waking, had headed straight for South Nan Xumi, likely because it had slept too long and its mind had become muddled.

With an Ancestral God in such a state, how could he possibly govern heaven and earth, let alone make the other sect leaders stop?

If this trend continues...

The Future World Honored One... can the Future truly come?

Tathagata.

(End of this chapter)