The sun was setting in the west.
At the peak of Mount Lantuo, there was a mound of soil that had been used as a prison for almost forty years. Suddenly, a golden light shone from it, as if a clay Bodhisattva had cracked open, revealing an invincible golden body. Other than this mound of soil, there was an old monk sitting cross-legged on the ground, wearing a tattered kasaya. He was old, his snow-white eyebrows drooping down to his knees. He spun around on the ground, exposed to the sun and wind, causing his skin to be dark and wrinkled. It was like a dried up field, making his white eyebrows look even paler. When he saw the mound of soil loosening and dirt falling to the ground, it was almost imperceptible. However, in the ears of this Tantric Buddhism Dharmaraja, it was as if thunder was ringing in his ears. His long eyebrows fluttered in the wind, and his body became as still as a mountain. As a great monk of Mount Lantuo who claimed to have never lied in his life, he and another senior monk had been taking turns to wait here for more than twenty years. The white-browed old monk stood up and lowered his head submissively. He saw the debris falling down continuously and golden light radiating from his body. The Immortal was revealed. At this moment, Mount Lantuo was suddenly filled with the chanting of sutras. The mountain appeared even more majestic and dignified under the chanting. The old monk facing the east looked back to the west, and the sun was setting. He did not know if it was an illusion, but the mound of soil was like a sleeping lion that finally stopped napping. After opening its eyes, it shook off the dust and began to swallow the mountains and rivers. The afterglow lit up, and compared to the radiance of the sun in the sky, the brilliance was not inferior at all.
Mahavairocana.
The elderly Dharmaraja slowly turned his head, and an old monk who seemed to have returned to the world of the living appeared in his vision. Compared to the white-browed old monk who was more than a hundred years old, he was even older and more muddle-headed. He was withered and skinny, and probably did not even weigh ninety jin. Such a physique could be said to be extremely weak. Although Mount Lantuo did not advocate martial arts, the senior monks of the past, like the six-Jeweled Guru who was only his junior, were not weak in terms of cultivation base. Bodhisattvas lowered their brows and benevolence, and at the same time, they could subdue dragons and elephants. In the white-browed monk's vision, the old monk was silent and lifeless. Esoteric Buddhism had always been regarded as heretical by the Central Plains of the Eastern Land. In the final analysis, it was the Confucianism and Taoism that held grudges against each other. Now that the Liyang Dynasty and Beimang had almost wiped out Buddhism at the same time, it was actually Zen Buddhism that was destroyed. However, the white-browed old monk wanted to see the general trend after this catastrophe of Buddhism. He could not do it himself, so he could only pin his hopes on the Pure Clean Lion in front of him who had made a great vow to not only become Buddha himself but also to make all the people become Buddhas.
The withered old monk finally opened his mouth. Before he spoke, he slowly exhaled a mouthful of turbid air like gray smoke. "The filth in one's body and mind is like a glass bottle that can be broken with a hammer. But all living beings have a million glass bottles, and the hammer is in the east. "
The white-browed old monk's expression changed as he clasped his palms together and chanted.
"From west to east, if I don't enter hell, who will?"
After saying this, the withered old monk, who was even older than the hundred-year-old Dharma King of Mount Lantuo, reached out his hand and touched the top of his head. It was as if he had smashed himself with a hammer, dispersing the golden light and illuminating the mountain peak.
The white-browed monk's expression was sorrowful.
Smashing the glass bottle with a hammer should have allowed one to become Buddha and achieve the supreme Dharmakaya. However, the monk knew that the monk in front of him was not like that at all. Above the West Mountain, an unusually bright sun seemed to have lost its support. After the monk's self-empowerment, the sun quickly dimmed and the afterglow disappeared as it hurriedly fell down the mountain.
The monk, who had white eyebrows that reached his knees, looked up again and could no longer see the old monk who had been enlightened for forty years. There was a saying in the Two Zen Temples that one had an epiphany, but this pause had been rather long. The old monk could only hear the chanting of sutras all over the mountain. He sighed softly.
Outside the Iron Gate Pass, an old monk flew across the desert and the Gobi Desert. Once, he stopped to use his fingers as a knife to cut off the flesh of his arm and feed it to the young eagles between the cracks of the mountain wall. Another time, he squatted in the desert and watched the insects swim away. When the dying old monk came to the Kui Gate, he seemed to be over ten years younger than before. He stood still outside the Kui Gate, absent-mindedly and dizzily. Judging by the people who came in and left the Kui Gate in a hurry, it seemed that they had been here for days and nights. When the warriors of the Kui Gate prepared to go and ask them some questions, the old monk had already disappeared. There were many dangerous mountains and deep streams in the northern border of Western Shu. It was difficult to reach the Central Plains. An old monk dressed in a monk's robe moved like a swan. He came and went like the wind. He saw mountains and rivers and stepped on them. His withered skin had already begun to glow, like a winter tree in the early spring. However, his eyes were getting more and more dizzy. His kasaya fluttered in the wind. His next step was where he wanted to land. He met a boatman pulling a boat on the shoal. The old monk appeared at the stern of the boat. He stepped into the bone-piercing cold river and listened to the chants of the Shu men. He slowly pushed the boat for twenty miles. Then, he flashed across and flashed across hundreds of feet in the deep mountains and old forests. With a loud bang, the old monk suddenly stopped. He held a winter bird that he had bumped into with both hands. His palms were badly mutilated. The old monk's eyes were confused. He first came to his senses, then silently grieved. Then, he fell into confusion again and his eyes became unfocused. He stood there for half an hour. During this time, the heavy rain fell on his head, and the snow and frost penetrated his bones. Until one morning, when the sun rose in the east, he suddenly turned around and headed east. He walked for thousands of miles through the yellow sand. He passed by the pool of Jin City, the ditch of Qian Xun, and the narrow path before he finally set foot on the Central Plains. He took shelter under the wall of a small town and watched people walk with umbrellas. He watched people wash their clothes by the stream that was not higher than his knees. He listened to the night watchman's sound under the moon and stars, and he met frozen bones on the roadside in the ancient capital of the famous city. One day, the old monk, who was only sixty years old, saw a single word on a lonely grave in the wilderness. He didn't know why, but after traveling for thousands of miles and seeing thousands of people, he had already forgotten who he was, where he was going, and who he was seeing.
The old monk continued to travel east in a daze. One day, he came to a green mountain. The wind shook the pine forest, and the sound was like waves. Using his mind, he floated up to an ancient pine and looked into the distance. He listened to the sound of the pine trees. After a full ten minutes, he said hoarsely, "Pine trees."
He firmly remembered the word "Liu". In addition, at this moment, the pine trees were like drums.
The old monk was no longer old. He looked like a middle-aged man in his forties. To this monk from Mount Lantuo who had traveled ten thousand miles to the east and forgotten the past, he was indeed not confused at this moment. He smiled and said, "Liu Songtao."
Jianghu soon learned that a young crazy monk had come to the Western Regions. He traveled east, and his mouth seemed to be singing and reciting. Wherever he passed, he would suddenly kill anyone he did not agree with. Suddenly, he would instruct others to pass on the Dharma.
On the boundless plain, young monks who seemed to be in their twenties were singing loudly and riding the wind. It was still the same useless song that had begun to spread across the Central Plains.
"Heaven and earth are useless, they are not worthy of my attention. The sun and moon are useless, they cannot exist together. Kunlun is useless, if it does not come, then it is me. Compassion is useless, I am sanctimonious. Peace is useless, my sleeves are empty. The great river is useless, it goes east and never returns. Wind and snow are useless, they cannot fill one's stomach. Grass is useless, it withers with each passing year. Meditation is useless, how can one become a Buddha … "
The young monk who was swaggering forward suddenly stopped and looked into the distance as if he was looking at the scenery hundreds of miles away.
He held his belly and laughed loudly. A series of loud laughter suddenly resounded between heaven and earth.
He did not restrain his laughter. The tattered kasaya on his body began to flutter. Wherever he passed, there was no trace of him. He tore a gully in the ground. The young monk sprinted for six hundred miles. He broke walls, entered forests, and jumped mountains.
Finally, he collided with a white-robed monk who was also sprinting from six hundred miles away.
The ground within a radius of three miles instantly sank into a huge round pit.
After the collision, the young monk paused for a moment and then continued to run forward like a river flowing east. He was still laughing. "The emperor is useless, it is only a hundred years. The King of Hell is useless, he envies me for being free. Immortals are useless, all mortals laugh … The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Where am I, where am I going … "
Who in the world could block the path of this young crazy monk?
Đồng Thái had already gone to the sea to visit immortals. Cao Changqing was determined to restore his country. Could it be Wang Xianzhi in the Martial Emperor City?
The world did not know that there was a mountain between the crazy monk and Wang Xianzhi.
On the main peak of Mount Zhulu, there were three thousand white jade steps.
A white-robed devil who had just entered Mount Zhulu was looking down at the world.
There were two big spiritual energy fish, one red and one green. They looked like carps but were not carps. They looked like dragons but were not dragons. The fish's whiskers were extremely slender. The fish floated in the air as if they were swimming. They swam around the white-robed man mysteriously.
Besides the two strange creatures beside the white-robed man, there were two men of different ages near the steps. One of them was standing and the other was sitting. The younger one was less than thirty years old. He was short and had a dull look on his face. He sat on the steps and looked at the mountain scenery with his hands supporting his cheeks. The older one was about forty years old. He carried a long cloth bag with a broken spear inside.
The middle-aged man asked softly, "Sect Master, let Deng Mao stop that monk from the west?"
It was Beimang's words.
The white-robed man asked calmly, "Can you stop Tuoba?"
The man who called himself Deng Mao laughed self-mockingly and shook his head. The Sect Master's meaning was very simple. If he could stop Tuoba, he would have the ability to stop that grey-robed monk. After all, even the white-robed monk Li Dangxin had not succeeded.
The short man said, "Even if he is Liu Songtao who escaped a calamity back then, he might not be able to defeat the current Wang Xianzhi and Tuoba when he was at his peak."
The white-robed man sneered, "Wait until you defeat the ninth in the world, Deng Mao. Then you can say that."
Deng Mao laughed softly, "It will happen sooner or later. In the future, Beimang will have to rely on Hong Jingyan and this kid to support its reputation. "
The white-robed man did not refute and slowly walked down the steps.
The thousands of devils who were crawling on the steps lowered their heads.
The white-robed man looked to the west expressionlessly.
Since Li Dangxin was unwilling to be entangled, then let me, Luo Yang, fight with you, Liu Songtao!
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