Great Zhou Wensheng

Chapter 187 Jiang Jieyuan, what exactly is your level of spiritual cultivation?

As night falls and the evening drum sounds, lights begin to illuminate every home.

In the blink of an eye, a "city of lights" appeared on the open ground outside the White Horse Temple.

Overnight, bamboo-framed sheds sprang up like mushrooms after rain, their coarse linen fabric rustling in the night wind.

Lanterns hung high, illuminating the bluestone path as if it were daytime—these were glass lanterns brought by the scholars of the Imperial Academy, reflecting the ink characters "Mingde" and "Gewu," which shone brightly in the night.

Many common people and scholars from the Imperial Academy gathered in small groups to debate the profound meaning of Jiang Xingzhou's two Buddhist verses.

Although it is a Buddhist verse, the great principles are interconnected!

Without delay, they used Buddhist verses to gain insight into Confucianism or other schools of thought from various ancient Chinese philosophy.

"Everyone, just look!"

A scholar in a blue robe slammed his hand on the table and stood up, the copy of "The Non-Bodhi Verse" in his hand rustling loudly: "'Bodhi has no tree'—the four lines clearly and implicitly echo Mencius's 'All things are complete within me'—the essence of the world is that everything belongs to me!"

"absurd!"

The white-haired old scholar opposite him slammed his teacup down: "The Bodhi Verse's 'constantly wipe away the dust' describes the gradual path of cultivation, which coincides with Zhu Xi's 'investigation of things to extend knowledge,' and is the right path for our cultivation!"

The argument startled the roosting crows, which fluttered past the tops of the Bodhi tree.

Further away, countless ordinary people sat around bonfires, discussing their experiences.

The wine seller held the rough porcelain bowl, took a big gulp, and said, "Although I am illiterate, when I hear the phrase 'originally there is nothing,' it sounds like Zhuangzi dreaming of being a butterfly. It's all hazy and indistinct, and I don't know if it's real or not!"

"Brother, this is a fusion of Buddhist and Taoist teachings!"

This drew applause and praise from the surrounding vegetable farmers and woodcutters.

The night breeze, carrying the scent of incense, swept over the red walls of the White Horse Temple, blending the sounds of chanting, debate, and laughter together, creating a vibrant atmosphere of diverse voices outside this sacred Buddhist sanctuary.
As dusk settled, the carriages and horses moved about in silence.

With a gloomy face, Xu Shiheng, the Vice Minister of Rites, boarded a carriage and returned to Luoyang.

The carriage rolled along the bluestone road, leaving five deep marks on the curtain. In the distance, the bells of the White Horse Temple pierced the twilight, each sound like a blow to his temple.

"Hmph! What a fine Jiang Xingzhou!"

Xu Shiheng was furious. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the gilded brazier, causing the silver-boned charcoal inside to crackle and pop.

Jiang Xingzhou used two Buddhist verses entitled "Zhenguo" to "suppress" the monks of Baima Temple to the point that they could not raise their heads.

They were even forced to regard Jiang Xingzhou as a Buddhist master and respectfully invite him to the temple to seek his guidance.

The sight of those monks, their faces bruised and swollen, bowing and praising Jiang Jieyuan, was like a series of slaps to the face of this Vice Minister of Rites.

After today.

Within Luoyang, it's likely that no one would dare to easily make a move against Jiang Xingzhou!

Things are getting increasingly complicated!

The high-ranking officials and dignitaries discussed the matter in twos and threes as they returned to Luoyang by carriage.

Since accommodation here is inconvenient, we should return to our residence first.

As for the outcome of this debate between the two Buddhist verses on "Protecting the Nation," we will know in a few days.

Outside the car window, the lanterns of the various government vehicles formed a flowing galaxy.

"Jiang Jieyuan's skill in poetry and prose is truly unfathomable!"

A sigh drifted out from the sedan chair of the Vice Minister of Revenue, only to be quickly dispersed by the night wind.

"It seems that it was prudent to refrain from impeaching 'Guan Cang Hai' a few days ago!"
A slight misstep could lead to a trap set by the text, and the outcome might not be much better than that of the high monks at White Horse Temple who were caught in a dilemma!

Under an ancient tree in front of the White Horse Temple.

Seven or eight scholars from various fields, dressed in pristine white robes, sat around a blue stone table, exchanging their insights. The night breeze stirred the jade pendants at their waists, their tinkling sounds subtly harmonizing with the distant tolling of temple bells.

"Ladies and gentlemen,"
The "Non-Bodhi Verse" brings sudden enlightenment, like a thunderbolt splitting a mountain.

The Bodhi Tree Verse teaches that gradual cultivation is like water dripping for a thousand years to wear away stone.

Even if both eventually attain Buddhahood, the one who achieves sudden enlightenment can do so in a day, while the one who cultivates gradually will take ten years to reach it.

The superiority of these two methods is immediately apparent!

Zhang Heng, the top scholar from Jibei Road, said calmly.

"not necessarily!"

Guan Zhongdao Qin Wen suddenly slammed his hand on the table, the bronze sword tassel at his waist shaking violently, startling the tea on the table into ripples: "If we're talking about ranking, then why does the Confucian Temple classify two completely different paths as [National Guardian] level?"

"I think Brother Zhang Heng is too attached to appearances."

Mo Yanqing, the top scholar from Lingnan Province, slowly unfolded his folding fan, revealing four faded gold characters: "In the past, when Confucius taught the wise men, Yan Hui understood ten things from one, and Zilu understood two from one—"

The fan ribs suddenly snapped shut with a crisp "snap": "Can we really say that Zilu is inferior to Yan Yuan? Not necessarily!"

The night dew quietly soaked through the hems of everyone's robes, and the distant sounds of people arguing drifted on the wind, echoing the bewilderment of these chosen ones.

The moon shines on the stone table, and the wine reflects a cold light.

Song Chuwang held up his wine cup, tilted his head back, and drank the amber-colored liquid in the cup. The wine slid down his chin and left a dark stain on his blue robe.

He suddenly slammed his wine cup down on the center of the bluestone table, his eyes still blurry with drunkenness, and laughed, “I think Brother Jiang has already given the answer!”

The path he walked was the most powerful Buddhist method!

"Oh, what do you mean?"

Qin Wen asked curiously.

"Brother Jiang has personally denied repeatedly that he has practiced Buddhism and is not a Buddhist disciple!"
It should be noted that Abbot Huiri of Baima Temple spent thirty years in seclusion, and Master Shihuai once recited ten thousand volumes of scriptures.

Brother Jiang, however, merely flipped through a few Buddhist scriptures and directly reached the other shore of Mahayana Buddhism, becoming a grand master of Buddhism and writing two national-level Buddhist verses.

His Buddhist understanding far surpasses that of the eminent monks of the White Horse Temple!
Such a contradiction!

Why is that?

"This"

Qin Wen suddenly understood, and the veins on his hand gripping the sword at his waist bulged. "Doesn't that mean Brother Jiang has had an epiphany?!"

"Not bad!"

Song Chuwang laughed loudly, shaking down the night dew from the trees: "Brother Jiang is following the purest path of sudden enlightenment—seeing the scriptures as scriptures, seeing the Buddha as the Buddha, and seeing one's true nature to become a Buddha!"
Brother Jiang opened the Buddhist scriptures and instantly attained enlightenment, entering the realm of a grandmaster in Buddhism, and could easily write "[Zhenguo]".

Naturally, he skipped the arduous process of practicing Buddhism!

Therefore, he denies practicing Buddhism yet has attained enlightenment! — So contradictory, yet so harmonious!

"Brother Jiang is simply a genius!"

Who in this world could do that?

The sigh of Liu Chun, the top scholar of Bashu Road, was particularly clear in the silence.

The top scholars looked at each other in bewilderment—these were the chosen ones who had fought their way out of the 100,000 scholars of the Great Zhou Dynasty, and whose intelligence far surpassed that of ordinary candidates, yet they looked completely lost at this moment.

The folding fan of the top scholar from Lingnan Province hung in mid-air, while the hand of the scholar from Jibei Province was still on the hilt of his sword, both of them frozen into statues.

Guan Zhongdao Qin Wen suddenly smiled bitterly, his bronze sword tassel drooping limply. "I thought that we, the top scholars, had surpassed Xiaowushan Peak and were unmatched in the world."

But I saw Brother Jiang still standing on the clouds of Mount Wu!

The path Brother Jiang has taken, we may not be able to follow!

The assembled scholars were speechless, falling into a deathly silence, their breaths almost frozen in the night wind.

White Horse Temple.

Mingxin Pavilion.

The guest monk, along with more than ten young novices, hurriedly prepared the most luxurious meditation room in the pavilion, filled with the fragrance of incense, for the boatmen on the river to stay in.

The fragrance of sandalwood wafts through the air, and the candlelight flickers red.

Jiang Xingzhou stepped into the meditation room, brushed aside the brocade curtain embroidered with Sanskrit, and the blue smoke from the ambergris in the gilded incense burner trembled abruptly as he entered.

The twelve young novices bowed their heads and retreated to both sides, the sound of their robes rustling as the meditation room was revealed—

But see,

Behind the sandalwood screen with five bats supporting the longevity symbol, a gilded Buddhist shrine bestowed by the emperor is enshrined on an incense table inlaid with gold dragons.

The moon-white gauze curtains, embroidered with eight auspicious symbols in gold thread, were lifted by a draft of wind, revealing a corner of the bright yellow brocade quilt on the couch, its dazzling dragon pattern shimmering like waves in the candlelight.

The meditation room still retains many utensils, which were clearly royal items—it is evident that royal guests often stayed here when they visited Baima Temple.

"This is.?"

Jiang Xingzhou couldn't help but glance at the guest monk.

"Amitabha.

"Grandmaster Jiang!" The leading monk, clasping his hands in prayer, let his sandalwood prayer beads jingle softly. "This was His Majesty's residence when he meditated at the White Horse Temple. Only the most distinguished guests are entertained here."

If it weren't for Jiang Xingzhou's two Buddhist verses, "[Zhenguo]", which have made him the foremost master in Buddhism, he probably wouldn't have been arranged to stay here.

Jiang Xingzhou nodded slightly.

The Duan inkstone on the table still had undried cinnabar in its inkwell—as if the emperor's brush had been used to review memorials here just a few days ago.

A startled bird suddenly flew past the window, causing the golden bells on the eaves to tremble violently, shattering the royal atmosphere that filled the room.

Jiang Xingzhou waved his hand lightly, and the monks in the meditation room retreated silently like a tide.

He sat upright before the sandalwood desk, picked up a yellowed copy of the Diamond Sutra, and the candlelight cast flickering shadows on the scroll.

Amidst the wafting incense smoke, a sharp glint flashed in his eyes.

Now, in the battle at Baima Temple, under the guise of "Confucianism and Buddhism discussing the Tao," he is actually establishing his authority. Those self-proclaimed detached monks of Baima Temple are now just pawns in his hands.

He tapped the table lightly with his knuckles, a smile playing on his lips—the next step was to figure out how to make good use of these "chess pieces"!

The night was as dark as ink, and the dew grew heavy as the night deepened.

Suddenly, a faint sound came from the meditation room next door, like the beaded curtain swaying gently, or like the rustling of clothes.

Jiang Xingzhou paused, a hint of doubt flashing in his eyes—if Abbot Huiri had arranged for him to stay alone in Mingxin Pavilion, how could there be other people staying here?

Could it be... that Seven Treasures Carriage?

He raised an eyebrow slightly.

Before I could think it through, three soft knocks came from outside the door, like raindrops dripping from the eaves.

Upon opening the door, one was none other than Meng Zhan, a captain of the Left Imperial Guard.

The Mingxin Pavilion was now filled with Imperial Guards.

"Jiang Jieyuan, Lord Nangong requests your presence."

Commandant Meng Zhan lowered his voice to a very low tone, as if afraid of disturbing the deep night.

"Ok!"

Jiang Xingzhou tucked his sleeves in and followed him up the steps.

The wooden steps were dimly lit, with only the occasional glint of cold light reflected from the sword at Meng Zhan's waist, like the lurking eyes of a beast in the dark.

On the top floor of Mingyue Pavilion, the night breeze was slightly cool.

Between the eaves and brackets, the Milky Way pours down, enveloping the entire pavilion in a soft glow.

Beside the carved railing, a solitary figure stands against the wind.

Nangong Wan'er wore a light gauze dress that shone like moonlight, her wide sleeves fluttering in the wind as if she were about to ride the wind away.

When she turned her head, her eyes reflected the stars, and a faint smile played on her lips, exuding both nobility and allure.

"Jiang Jieyuan".

Her voice was like pearls falling on a plate, noble yet with a hint of elusiveness.

A gentle night breeze blows from the top of Mingyue Pavilion.

Jiang Xingzhou slightly raised his wide sleeves and bowed slightly: "Lord Nangong summoned me in the dead of night, may I ask what brings you here?"

Nangong Wan'er gently stroked the window frame with her slender hand, the moonlight flowing between her fingertips: "I have a question that I don't understand!"
Therefore, I have sent Commandant Meng to respectfully invite the top scholar to this place!

She turned around, her gauze skirt rippling, and asked curiously, "Since Jiang Jieyuan is well-versed in Buddhism and his level of understanding is comparable to that of a grandmaster of Buddhism, why doesn't he believe in Buddhism?"

A sudden gust of night wind blew, scattering the scriptures on the table.

Jiang Xingzhou sat down at the table, took a sip from his cup, and smiled with a hint of Zen in his eyes as he lowered his gaze: "Lord Nangong, have you ever heard a Zen koan?"
When Bodhidharma, the founder of Buddhism, traveled east to China, Emperor Wu of Liang, who styled himself "Emperor Bodhisattva," summoned him and asked, "Throughout my life, I have built temples, ordained monks, and given alms and meals. What merit have I accumulated?"

He lightly tapped the celadon porcelain with his fingertips, producing a clear, resonant sound: "Bodhidharma only said four words: 'There is no merit in reality.'"

Emperor Wu was furious and banished Bodhidharma from Jinling.

Alas, Bodhidharma crossed the river on a single reed and departed.

Nangong Wan'er suddenly felt the teacup in her hand as heavy as a thousand pounds.

Jiang Xingzhou laughed and said, "Buddhism does not remember merits, but people in the world follow fame and fortune."

Emperor Wu of Liang made such contributions to Buddhism, and this remains true!
What about me?
I am but a mortal, worldly person. Since Buddhism does not record merits, I naturally do not believe in Buddhism.

He looked up and smiled, his eyes reflecting starlight and cloud shadows.

Nangong Wan'er remained silent.

Outside the Mingxin Pavilion, the bamboo shadows swayed gently as she gazed at the shattered reflection in the tea soup.

She got it.

Jiang Xingzhou's words implied that no matter how much you worship him, it will ultimately be nothing but a mirage.

The Buddha does not remember their merits, and the Buddhist community does not express gratitude.

This young man truly sees things clearly!
Jiang Xingzhou slowly rose and stood with his hands behind his back in front of the pavilion window. His clothes fluttered slightly in the wind, and his eyes seemed to reflect an ancient galaxy, yet were as deep as an abyss.

He chuckled softly, his voice clear yet carrying an undeniable sharpness—

"And not just Buddhism."

"Which of the gods, Buddhas, immortals, saints, and Dao ancestors in this world does not reside high in the clouds, looking down upon all living beings?"

"When you burn incense and kowtow, does it ever lower its eyes? When you offer sincere sacrifices, does it ever show any emotion?"

"Merit? Good and evil? Cause and effect? ​​— These are nothing but wishful thinking on the part of mortals!"

He raised his eyes, his gaze sharp as a sword, and spoke each word with resounding force—

"so--"

"I don't believe in gods, I don't worship Buddha, and I don't seek immortality."

I only believe in myself.

"Cultivate only yourself."

"Cultivate oneself—"

"To be a saint!"

As soon as he finished speaking, an invisible energy seemed to vibrate between heaven and earth.

Nangong Wan'er was shocked. She felt that the young man in front of her had transcended all external constraints and was only focused on the path of self-cultivation and sainthood!
Nangong Wan'er's eyes flickered slightly, and she unconsciously rubbed her jade-like fingers inside her sleeve. After thinking for a long time, she finally asked softly:
"Those two [National Protection] Buddhist verses... are they your methods of cultivation? Is there a difference in their quality?"

Upon hearing this, Jiang Xingzhou raised an eyebrow slightly, a deep smile flashing in his eyes.

He raised his sleeve to pour tea, the tea soup pouring out like a silver river falling, rippling in the cup.

"good."

His voice was clear and melodious, like a mountain stream: "These two Buddhist verses are both paths to heaven."

"Ten years of gentle rain nourishes all things; through gradual cultivation, one can attain enlightenment."

A sudden clap of thunder at dawn brings enlightenment and Buddhahood;

He lightly touched the teacup with his fingertips, the ripples reflecting the sky and clouds, and said with a smile, "The paths may differ, but the destination is the same! The path that suits you is the best path in the world—how can there be superiority or inferiority?"

Although Shenxiu of the Northern School did not inherit the mantle, he achieved the illustrious reputation of "Master of the Dharma in two capitals and Imperial Preceptor of three emperors" through the principle of "constantly wiping away the dust."

Although Huineng of the Southern School created a masterpiece with a single verse, he also allowed the true meaning of Zen to shine through the ages in the profound mystery of "originally there is nothing".

Jiang Xingzhou flicked his sleeves, his robes billowing in the wind.

"The foolish old man walks his own path, and the wise man travels his own boat."

Forcing yourself to imitate others is like trying to walk like someone from Handan who died trying to learn how to walk in Handan—it only makes you a laughingstock!

As the last word fell, the copper bell on the eaves was suddenly struck by a gentle breeze and rang out with a clear, long "ding," as if questioning the true meaning of the Great Dao.

Nangong Wan'er's eyelashes trembled slightly, and in a daze, she seemed to see the Great Dao emerging in the rising steam of the tea!

Nangong Wan'er pursed her lips slightly, and starlight seemed to flow in her beautiful eyes.

She gazed at Jiang Xingzhou's profile, as white as frost and as white as snow, and parted her lips slightly:
"I have one last question—"

A night breeze suddenly arose, stirring a strand of her dark hair at her temple. Her slender, jade-like fingertips traced a cool, clear path across the table in the moonlight.

"Your self-cultivation."

"What level of cultivation have you reached?"

Before the words were finished, the teacup on the table suddenly moved on its own without any wind, and the remaining tea in the cup spun into the shape of two yin-yang fish.

(End of this chapter)