Chapter 114: The Tree Demon Who Guides Souls

Shen Shi saw it clearly, neither blocking nor dodging. Only when the fist drew near did he clench his right hand and strike back with a punch of his own.

His strike was silent, yet it arrived first despite being thrown later.

"What internal energy of the five organs? I shall shatter it with the primordial energy of heaven and earth."

A crisp "crack" echoed.

As the two fists collided, the large monk was sent flying like a bundle of straw. His arm bent at an unnatural angle, seemingly snapped by the force of Shen Shi’s blow.

The energy of the five organs had clashed with the primordial energy of heaven and earth, and the former had been utterly defeated.

Shen Shi did not hold back. In a flash, he appeared above the monk.

The large monk let out a harrowing roar, bracing his remaining hand against his chest, but Shen Shi brought his foot down.

His kick was as light and swift as a swallow skimming the water, effortlessly piercing the monk’s defenses. Once his internal energy had been countered, no amount of defense would suffice—unless he could defend against energy itself.

"Boom!"

Unable to deflect it, the monk struck the ground like a fallen boulder.

He slammed into the flagstone floor, leaving a crater beneath him. His chest caved in as if he had been struck square-on by a heavy battering ram. Such a grievous injury would have killed any ordinary man. And yet...

"Amitabha."

Suddenly, a chant rang out. A golden light, spanning ten yards, radiated from the monk. Wherever this Buddha-light passed, both he and the monks wounded by Shen Shi began to heal at a speed visible to the naked eye.

"Abbot!"

"They attacked us!"

The young monk, now conscious, not only laid the blame on them first but glared at Shen Shi and his companions with the look of those who were surely doomed.

"Silence!" The Abbot rose. He appeared different—more divine, yet devoid of emotion. He barked, "Was it you who struck first?"

His voice resonated like a great bell, infused with strands of divine power that surged into their ears. Shen Shi immediately sealed his senses to prevent the power from entering. He cultivated the spiritual energy of heaven and earth and had no desire for such heterodox, complex forces to touch him.

The young monk was left speechless, and the others lowered their heads in silence.

The Abbot, projecting a "Buddha heart" through his divine consciousness, said with pained righteousness, "Monks are meant to be compassionate. You chose to inflict harm, and having met this fate, you have only yourselves to blame. Do not resent others."

Gongsun Ce could not help but remark, "This Abbot seems reasonable after all."

Bao Zheng, harboring a righteous aura that also repelled the divine power, stepped forward and said, "Abbot, is this how you treat your pilgrims? It is fortunate we have an expert among us; otherwise, would you have beaten us to death today?"

Bao Zheng’s upright aura ignored the petty squabbles and pointed directly to the authority of the law. His righteousness flared, forcing the Abbot’s Buddha-light to recede three feet, unable to touch him.

The Abbot’s expression remained serene, his tone calm. "After nightfall, Lanruo Temple does not receive visitors."

He acted as if he did not notice his light failing to reach Bao Zheng, or perhaps, he simply did not care.

Bao Zheng frowned. "Not receiving visitors is fine; a kind word would have sufficed. Why resort to violence?"

"Amitabha. The donor is correct. I shall advise him to be benevolent in the future and ensure they do not act this way again." The Abbot pressed his palms together and chanted "Amitabha" once more. "My disciples have already been taught a lesson by you. You should rest early; I will not see you out."

Shifting the blame? And not seeing them out? Such rudeness?

This monk did not seem quite right.

Shen Shi stepped forward, and at his movement, the young monks recoiled in terror.

The Abbot turned to Shen Shi, eyeing him up and down. "Donor, what is it you wish?" His expression was fearless, devoid of sorrow or joy, making him appear all the more divine.

Shen Shi looked at him and said, "Should I call you Abbot, or should I call you the Spirit Tree?"

"Amitabha. The donor has keen eyes." He did not deny it, admitting it outright.

"If you have something to say, say it another day. Today is my day for Zazen (meditation)." With that, he ignored Shen Shi and turned to lead his disciples away.

"Zazen? You are still meditating at a time like this?" Shen Shi was taken aback. Watching the Abbot’s retreating back, he could not help but recite a Zen koan: "Born to sit and not lie, dead to lie and not sit; just a bag of foul bones, what merit are you seeking to build?"

The Abbot froze and whipped his head around.

The young monks were stunned, staring at Shen Shi with mouths agape.

This man knew Zen?

"Born to sit and not lie, dead to lie and not sit?"

Those who did not understand could not even grasp the meaning, but those who truly understood knew that this koan was filled with profound mystery—so exquisite that even most masters of Buddhist philosophy could not utter it offhand.

This was the wisdom of Buddhism: the "bag of foul bones" is the external form that decays. If one clings to the physical form of meditation without understanding the essence of Zen, it manifests as "sitting without lying, lying without sitting." When one flips this thought, one realizes that within these four elements and six senses, what is it that builds merit? What is it that attains the Dharma? To put it simply, Shen Shi was asking them: Are you learning to meditate, or are you learning to "sit Buddha"? If you are meditating, Zen cannot be "sat" into existence. If you are sitting as a Buddha, Buddha has no fixed form—can you truly attain that by sitting? If you use meditation to seek Buddhahood, this path is a dead end.

"You..." The Abbot was shocked.

He was the primordial spirit of a tree demon. Why did he possess a human body? To attain the path of immortals and Buddhas. For a thousand years, this was how he had cultivated—manifesting thousands of incarnations, experiencing the red dust to refine his Buddha-nature and Buddha-body. Yet today, someone told him he was wrong, that he could not attain Buddhahood.

The Abbot looked into Shen Shi’s eyes. "Donor, do you understand Zen?"

Bao Zheng smiled. He knew nothing of martial arts or magic, but as one who had transcribed Shen Shi’s stories, he knew that Shen Shi’s ability to tell a tale and reason through logic was formidable.

Shen Shi smiled. "I wouldn't say I understand."

"You need not be humble. Even high monks who have practiced meditation for decades might not be able to utter that verse. Haha, it is rare to meet someone like you. Shall we discuss Zen philosophy?" The Abbot was intrigued.

For over a thousand years, he had watched monks chant, inhabited their bodies to cultivate, and received the aspirations of believers. He had persevered in studying Buddhist scriptures and cultivating the Buddha-path through human wisdom and human bodies.

He had already grasped the essence of the Buddhist concept that to save others, one must first save oneself, and to save oneself, one must save others.

His mastery of Buddhist philosophy was admired by everyone at Lanruo Temple. An old monk sneered, "Discuss Zen with the Abbot?"

Another added, "His six senses are not even pure; what Zen can he speak of?"

"A layman dares to discuss Zen with our Abbot? Overestimating his own abilities." The monks scoffed. Though they had been shaken by Shen Shi’s words, he was so young. How much Buddhist cultivation could he possibly have?

These monks were not all possessed by the large monk’s spirit; most were genuine monks.

The large monk had once been a mere bandit before the previous Abbot took him in and taught him the Dharma. He had been diligent, eventually surpassing the others through his mastery of the teachings to become the Abbot.

While some in the temple might have been unhappy with his behavior, none could help but admire his profound understanding of the Dharma.