Great Zhou Wensheng

Chapter 183 My Heart is Buddha! A Super Master of Buddhism!
White Horse Temple.

Beneath the nine-zhang-high altar, in another elegant pavilion.

Several high-ranking officials, dressed in crimson and purple robes, were sipping fragrant tea and chatting in hushed tones.

"A few days ago, Jiang Jieyuan's poem 'Viewing the Sea,' a masterpiece of national defense, was magnificent and contained a hint of imperial grandeur."

A court official gently stroked his teacup, seemingly lost in thought. “But everyone suspected that it was a trap, and in the end, no one dared to take the challenge rashly.”

After all, no top scholar in the imperial examinations would be unaware of the allusions and sources of the poems and essays he wrote.

He deliberately released this poem; it's likely a deception, an attempt to gain greater fame!

"What a coincidence today."

He squinted at the high platform and said, “Master Shihuai’s invitation to the students of the Imperial Academy was originally a debate between Confucianism and Buddhism!”
Who would have thought that Jiang Jieyuan would be promoted as a model Confucian scholar?

As the aroma of tea wafted through the air, everyone's gaze fell upon the upright figure in a blue robe on the altar.

What do you all think?

The vice minister put down his teacup and pondered, "Can this Jiang Jieyuan really outwit Master Shihuai in this sacred Buddhist site, the White Horse Temple?"

"Humph!"

Xu Shiheng, the Vice Minister of Rites, sneered and tapped the tea table lightly with his knuckles: "Today's debate between Confucianism and Buddhism is not a scheme set up by Jiang Xingzhou."

His gaze, sharp as a knife, swept over the golden-red robe on the high altar:

"Three years ago, the monk Shihuai killed a peasant scholar from the Imperial Academy!"
Now, after three years of lying low, it has all been for this one game.

Do you all know how many times he's worn out the Buddhist scriptures and Confucian classics on his desk?

The teacup slammed heavily, splashing a few drops of amber-colored tea.

"Jiang Xingzhou boasts that he is well-versed in all schools of thought, including the Hundred Schools of Thought and various other schools of thought?"

Xu Shiheng sneered, "Even a saint reborn wouldn't dare to make such a boast!"

He's not even twenty yet, and he dares to claim to be knowledgeable in all schools of thought? I think it's just arrogance!

The vice minister was puzzled and wanted to argue: "But his poem 'A Night Mooring by Maple Bridge' is clearly full of Zen philosophy!"

Xu Shiheng smiled and said, "It's just a wonderful descriptive poem that happens to describe 'Hanshan Temple outside Suzhou'! Those vulgar people insist on trying to interpret it as some kind of Zen or Buddhist philosophy. Isn't that ridiculous?"

"Just wait and see!"

Xu Shiheng stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze sweeping across the high altar like a blade.

The cold wind whipped up the hem of his dark official robe, making it flutter loudly.

"This nine-zhang-high platform today—"

His voice was deep and resonant, each word like iron, as if tempered with ice: "Either create a legend."
"Or, let this madman's life be ruined!"

Amidst the rising steam of tea, Xu Shiheng coldly uttered the second half of his sentence:

Upon hearing this, all the officials were startled.

"What Master Xu said is correct."

The Vice Minister of War stroked his beard and nodded, pausing meaningfully, "In today's debate, someone will inevitably suffer disgrace and ruin."

Everyone's eyes turned to the high platform.

But the Venerable Master Shihuai had a dignified appearance, and behind him was the White Horse Temple, where the murals of the Eighteen Arhats were lifelike.
Hundreds of novices and monks from Baima Temple stood below the altar, hands clasped together, craning their necks in anticipation.

Jiang Xingzhou, dressed in a blue robe, looked particularly thin in the cold wind.

It's not that Master Shihuai of Baima Temple has lost his reputation.
Even the top scholar from Jiangnan, along with the Confucian scholars of the Imperial Academy, lost all face.

Those who gamble with their lifelong reputation and honor always pay the price!

Xu Shiheng's last sentence was so light it almost dissipated in the wind.

Before the words were finished, a clear and melodious Buddhist chant suddenly came from the altar.

Everyone was startled. The prayer beads in Master Shihuai's hand suddenly stopped, and his robes moved without wind.

Jiang Xingzhou stood with his hands behind his back, a smile playing on his lips, appearing completely calm and collected.

The pavilion fell completely silent.

The high-ranking officials exchanged glances, each reading the other's expression—it seemed both sides were quite confident in this debate!

On the high altar, a sudden chill wind arose.

The monk Shihuai clasped his hands together, his golden-red robe billowing in the wind like waves: "Benefactor Jiang, please recite the Buddhist verse."

His eyes blazed like torches, and his voice boomed like a bell: "You make your move, I'll break it."

In Buddhist debates, the "revelation and counter-reaction of Buddhist verses" is the main form of offensive and defensive competition.

One person presents a verse, and the other person refutes it;
They clashed back and forth until one side could no longer decipher the other's Buddhist verses, ran out of arguments and reasoning, and was defeated and surrendered.

This is how one can distinguish the levels of Buddhist spiritual attainment!

Jiang Xingzhou stood with his hands behind his back, his blue robe fluttering in the wind, a faint smile on his lips, and shook his head, saying, "I have said before—in terms of Buddhist attainments, I am more advanced than most Buddhist disciples."

This naturally includes masters as well.

If I were to offer a Buddhist verse, the master would likely not even have a chance to answer it.

Therefore, it would be best if you could first compose a Buddhist verse!

In Buddhism, the creation and interpretation of verses are like the game of Go, where the player who moves first (black) often gains the advantage.

He's letting me go first.

But Jiang Xingzhou simply flicked his sleeves and said casually, "Please!"

The single word "please" silenced the entire room.

Give way first?

Shi Huai's pupils contracted slightly, his prayer beads suddenly stopped, his golden-red robe fluttered without wind, and he was so angry he felt like he was about to explode!
As the abbot and head disciple of Baima Temple, he was praised by his master, Abbot Huiri, as a rare talent in Buddhism, a talent that is rarely seen in a hundred years.

Not only among the young monks of Baima Temple, but even among the entire Buddhist community of the Great Zhou Dynasty, he can be considered one of the top talents!
He was actually let go first by Jiang Xingzhou, this Confucian disciple?!
The monk's eyes gleamed brightly: "Good! Good! Good!"

He exclaimed "Good!" three times, each time louder than the last, so loudly that icicles fell from the eaves of dozens of halls in the White Horse Temple.

"Then this humble monk will—it would be impolite to refuse!"

As the last word was uttered, the entire altar suddenly fell into an eerie silence.

The monk's eyes were filled with deep hatred.

He wanted this, he wanted the whole world to know.
What is true—

The Buddha's teachings are boundless!

The north wind howled, stirring up the light snow on the altar.

The surrounding tens of thousands of people held their breath, waiting for this debate on Buddhist verses: "Jiangnan Jieyuan sails on the river, facing off against the high monk Shihuai of Baima Temple."

The monk Shihuai opened his eyes wide, and his whole body shone with a great Buddhist light.

As he took a step, golden lotuses bloomed on the blue bricks beneath his feet.

"The Wrathful Vajra"

[The Buddha is an old monk from the Western Paradise, whose golden body is sought by thousands.]

The golden body was originally the body of the Dharma King; through countless eons of devout worship, one can never cease!

The monk Shihuai shouted and recited a Buddhist verse.

The sound was like thunder, making the copper bells on the eaves jingle.

With each word he uttered, the golden light emanating from his body intensified, and the golden threads on his robe seemed to move as if alive.

As the last sentence fell, the entire altar trembled violently.

This Buddhist verse by the monk Shihuai is a poem praising the Buddha, written after many years of arduous study of Buddhist scriptures. It means that "the Buddha is a bhikkhu, and people seek the golden body—the golden body is the Dharma body of the Buddha, and all beings should always worship with devotion!"

The golden light of Buddha pierced the sky, turning the falling snow into golden rain.

The cold wind suddenly stopped, and the world fell silent.

In an instant!
The monk Shihuai was enveloped in a layer of purple-gold light.

Then, his figure suddenly swelled, and in the blink of an eye, he transformed into a Vajra Bodhisattva, a hundred feet tall, exuding an imposing aura and gazing at Jiang Xingzhou opposite him!

"this--"

Xu Shilong, the Vice Minister of Rites, paled and stood up abruptly, staring intently at the towering Dharma image. His Adam's apple bobbed as he exclaimed, "It's actually... the manifestation of the Vajra Dharma Image of Buddhism?! What power!"

He was overjoyed!
it is good!
Jiang Xingzhou, eager to establish his reputation in Luoyang, the capital, was impatient for battle. Unexpectedly, he ran into Shi Huai, the eminent monk of the White Horse Temple—he'd finally met his match!

If this battle is lost, Jiang Xingzhou's reputation as a top scholar will be ruined, and no one will respect him anymore. Countless people will see through his true nature and take the opportunity to kick him while he's down!
The crowd below erupted in uproar.

Tens of thousands of people were already kneeling on the ground, their foreheads pressed against the cold blue bricks.

Some people trembled and kowtowed, while an old woman with white hair was in tears, murmuring, "The Vajra Bodhisattva has manifested."

The hundreds of novices and monks of Baima Temple cheered and clasped their hands in unison, looking with utmost reverence at the head disciple of Baima Temple on the high platform, praising Vajra Bodhisattva.

"The Dharma Image of Vajra Protector Bodhisattva!"

A gasp of surprise erupted from the students of the Imperial Academy.

Several high-ranking officials in purple robes rose from their seats simultaneously, the clinking of their jade belts clearly audible, their faces showing surprise and awe.

"Is the Dharma form that Master Shihuai practices—that of Vajrapani Bodhisattva?"

The Vice Minister of War instinctively pressed his hand on the sword at his waist, only to find that his palms were already covered in cold sweat.

The Vajra statue, hundreds of feet tall, stands in mid-air, its purple-gold light illuminating the entire White Horse Temple as if it were a crystal world.

The hundred-foot-tall Vajra statue, with its glaring eyes, pointed a demon-subduing pestle directly at Jiang Xingzhou.
Wherever it points, the air distorts.

The overwhelming pressure of the Buddha's teachings made tens of thousands of people around the high altar feel as if a thousand pounds were pressing on their chests, making even breathing difficult and suffocating.

Moreover, on the altar, Jiang Xingzhou was being directly pointed at by this Vajra Bodhisattva image!

He is bearing this devastating pressure all by himself!

The blue bricks beneath the young scholar's feet were cracking with a "crack," the cracks spreading out like a spider web.

Yet its upright posture remained as still as a pine tree on a cliff.

A sudden gust of wind arose, swirling up a shower of golden snow. Within the overwhelming, sun-obscuring light of the Buddha, everyone saw—

The young man, who should have been crushed by the overwhelming power of the Vajra, slowly raised his head.

The young scholar's eyes shimmered with a clear light, like the moon reflected in an ancient well, unfathomable in their depths.

"What a fine line, 'The golden body is the body of the Dharma King, and we worship you with unending devotion through countless eons'—Master Shihuai, are you trying to make the world bow down and prostrate themselves before you forever?!"

Jiang Xingzhou suddenly burst into loud laughter, the sound piercing through the clouds and splitting rocks, abruptly cutting off the chanting that filled the sky!
In this devastating force,

A slight smile played on his lips as he slowly and deliberately straightened his clothes, which had been ruffled by the wind, his movements as elegant as if he were tidying up a desk in his study.

Looking up at the towering Vajra statue.

When he raised his head, the clear light in his eyes was even more dazzling than the golden statue of the Buddhist monk Shihuai.

"Your Buddhist verse is of mediocre quality!"

The young scholar's voice was clear and melodious, like a spring.
The voice has not fallen,

He suddenly pointed his fingers together like a sword.
"Zheng——"

A burst of azure talent shot out from his fingertips, like jade shattering in Kunlun Mountain, like the Milky Way pouring down, piercing towards the hundred-foot-tall Vajra body in an instant!

"My Heart Is Buddha"

[Clay and wood sculptures are not true Buddhas; only by being free of attachment can one see the true heart of Shakyamuni.]

The clay and iron in the niche will eventually rust; which true Buddha sits inside?
Break it—!

Jiang Xingzhou laughed loudly.

Each word was like thunder, exploding in everyone's hearts.

Where the sword light passed, the Vajra Dharma Image showed spiderweb-like cracks like glass!
"My heart is my Buddha!"

—Why is there such an endless stream of courtesies?

The true Buddha is not a physical form!
Master Shihuai, you are too attached to this appearance of a 'wrathful Vajra Bodhisattva'. You are attached to appearances!

The mind itself is Buddha—this is the foundation of Buddhism.

Why seek answers within yourself rather than externally?

At Baima Temple, over 100,000 people were in a state of awe and silence.

Only the boy's clear voice echoed in the snow: "As the saying goes, 'The Buddha is not far away on Mount Ling—Mount Ling is only in your heart!'"

The moment this Buddhist verse was uttered, the world fell silent.

"Om-!"

Instantly, the light emanating from the Vajra Bodhisattva image of the monk Shihuai, which had begun to crack like spiderwebs, melted away inch by inch, like thin snow meeting the scorching sun.

The solemn and majestic image appeared mottled, like a clay sculpture in an ancient temple that had lost its gold, crude and dull.

"Click, click—"

A teeth-grinding cracking sound came from high above.

On the hundred-foot-tall Vajra image, spiderweb-like cracks spread rapidly.

The vajra clattered to the ground, shattering the blue bricks.

"Boom!"

The image of Vajra Bodhisattva shattered instantly, the loud crash causing the area around White Horse Temple to tremble.

Golden rain fell from the sky.

Jiang Xingzhou stood with his hands behind his back, letting the golden raindrops fall softly onto his shoulders.

This golden rain of Buddha images is the Buddhist talent cultivated by Buddhist disciples over many years. If one can absorb it, there are many benefits, and it can ward off all evil.

He scoffed and lightly patted the golden rain off his shoulder!

The monk Shihuai staggered backward, his seven-jeweled kasaya instantly turning ashen and lifeless.

"Pfft!"

This head disciple of Baima Temple actually slammed his knees to the ground, and his vajra pestle plowed a three-foot-deep furrow into the blue bricks.

"Wow--"

A mouthful of blood spurted onto the mottled cassock, blooming into a shocking red lotus.

The agarwood rosary around his neck suddenly snapped, and the 108 bodhi seeds tumbled and splashed into the pool of blood.

When the monk looked up, his pale face was filled with horror and fear.

He cultivated himself for ten years to achieve the Vajra Dharma form.
This boy actually...
In an instant, a Buddhist verse was written!
To sum it up in a single sentence?!
He looked up in disbelief at the calm and serene Jiang Xingzhou across the river.

The 100,000 people below the altar were stunned into silence when they saw the Vajra image of the monk Shihuai being broken.

Xu Shiheng gripped the table tightly and saw Jiang Xingzhou standing with his hands behind his back—his blue robe was still spotless, and even his hair ribbon was not disheveled in the slightest.

A drop of golden rain fell on the boy's shoulder, which he gently patted away.

He was speechless!
Jiang Xingzhou, the Daoist of Jiangnan, was he not a scholar from Jiangnan who studied the various schools of thought? Why was he also proficient in Buddhist teachings?
Even a single Buddhist verse can shatter the illusions formed through ten years of spiritual practice.
Inside the White Horse Temple, a tremor erupted.

The hundreds of novice monks and monks watching the battle showed fear and panic, not knowing what to do.

It should be noted that Monk Shihuai was the chief disciple, the number one person under the "abbot and senior elder" of Baima Temple, and the greatest genius in Baima Temple in a hundred years.

The fact that Jiang Xingzhou gave him a Buddhist verse that broke his Vajra Bodhisattva form, which he had cultivated for ten years, was a very serious matter!

Unless the abbot or senior elder personally intervenes, none of the monks and disciples of Baima Temple are a match for Jiang Xingzhou!

"clang--"

Suddenly, the bronze bell of Baima Temple let out a mournful cry, startling the bronze bells on the eaves into a trembling clatter.

In front of the main hall, the novice monk sweeping the floor was frozen in mid-air with his bamboo broom.

Inside the scripture pavilion, the senior monk, who was copying scriptures, flicked his wrist, and ink splattered across the Diamond Sutra, leaving large stains.

"The First Senior Brother's Wrathful Vajra Dharma Form has been broken!"

It is unknown who first uttered this trembling whisper, but in an instant it was like a boulder thrown into water, startling the high monks of the entire temple into an uproar!
"How can this be?!"

"That's the golden body of a Bodhisattva who has cultivated for ten years!"

The wooden fish and alms bowls in the hands of the monks clattered to the ground.

Several young monks, upon hearing this, even staggered and clung to the pillars of the corridor, as if the world were spinning.

They stared at the lingering golden rays of sunlight outside the mountain gate, their faces filled with disbelief.

That's the head disciple!
They have admired Master Shihuai for many years!
The abbot himself certified him as "the most promising disciple in Buddhism in the past hundred years to cultivate to the Bodhisattva realm and attain enlightenment!"
"Quickly! Ring the alarm bell and gather everyone!"

The abbot's roar startled the other monks.

In an instant, the entire White Horse Temple was like a beehive that had been punctured—some people stumbled and rushed toward the bell tower.

Some people frantically searched through scriptures, trying to find a way to decipher Jiang Xingzhou's Buddhist verse.

Some of the young monks were so frightened that they collapsed onto their prayer mats and sobbed.

"Get out of the way! Get out of the way, everyone!"

A barefoot novice monk ran wildly through the nine-tiered palace, his robe billowing up ginkgo leaves scattered on the ground.

He fell heavily in front of the main hall, then crawled over the threshold on his hands and feet:

"Abbot! Something terrible has happened—"

The young novice monk's tearful cry crashed into the golden statue of the Three Buddhas, exploding amidst wisps of smoke.

"The First Senior Brother's 'Wrathful Vajra' Bodhisattva Dharma Image has been exposed with a single word!"

"Om-"

Abbot Huiri sat upright on the meditation cushion, the sandalwood prayer beads spinning between his fingers suddenly stopping.

The old monk, with his white beard and eyebrows, slowly opened his eyes, and a ripple appeared in the depths of his deep, well-like eyes.

He had already sensed the tremor that came when the chief disciple's Vajra Dharma image collapsed—the prayer flags of the entire White Horse Temple moved without wind at that moment, and the eaves trembled.

“Tell me in detail.”

The aged voice was neither hurried nor slow, yet it sent a cold sweat down the back of the kneeling novice monk.

"Reporting to the Abbot!"

The young novice monk's forehead was pressed tightly against the blue brick, "The head monk was discussing the Dharma at the altar in front of the White Horse Temple, competing with Jiang Yuan, a Taoist priest from Jiangnan, in a contest of Buddhist verses."

The sandalwood incense inside the hall suddenly began to sway violently.

"Jiang Jieyuan actually broke the head monk's 'Angry Vajra' Buddhist verse with the sentence, '[Clay and wood sculptures are not true Buddhas; only by being without mind can one see the heart of Shakyamuni.]'!"

What should I do? "

Abbot Huiri's withered fingers suddenly tightened, and the prayer beads in his palm made a creaking sound as they succumbed to the weight.

He remembered that verse—it was ten years ago, when he had been in seclusion for three years, and on a stormy night, he saw an angry Vajra and was enlightened by its manifestation.

[The Buddha is an old monk from the Western Paradise, whose golden body is sought by thousands.]

The golden body was originally the body of the Dharma King; I have offered my homage with unwavering devotion for countless eons!
How solemn!

The image of a Buddha statue for all people to worship!
But the one who broke the verse actually said—

[Clay and wood sculptures are not true Buddhas; only by being free of attachment can one see the true heart of Shakyamuni.]

The clay and iron in the niche will eventually rust; which true Buddha sits inside?
"What a wonderful saying, 'Only when there is no intention can one see the Buddha's mind.'"

Abbot Huiri suddenly chuckled, his long, snow-white eyebrows moving without any wind.

As he slowly rose, the twelve bronze Buddhist lamps hanging at the corners of the main hall dimmed for a moment.

"Boom!"

The nine-ringed tin staff slammed heavily to the ground.

Abbot Huiri's robe billowed like clouds, and with one step he was already at the temple gate: "This old monk wants to see what kind of wonderful person can express the Zen principle of 'the mind itself is Buddha' in a single sentence."

The opponent broke through the Buddhist verse "My mind is Buddha" by simply reciting the verse "Wrathful Vajra" which Shi Huai had cultivated for many years with arduous practice!
Jiang Jieyuan was definitely a super master of Buddhist cultivation!

(End of this chapter)