Great Zhou Wensheng

Chapter 188 Celestial Realm! [I dare not speak loudly, lest I startle the celestial beings.]
Mingxin Pavilion.

The dim lamplight, like a bean, illuminates the desk before me.

A pot of fine wine, a few small dishes, and a touch of fragrance make the pavilion even more tranquil.

Jiang Xingzhou and Nangong Wan'er sat facing each other, sipping wine and chatting by the window, seemingly lost in thought.

Outside the window, bamboo shadows sway gently, and occasionally a night breeze blows, swirling up a few fallen leaves and making a rustling sound.

"I wonder what level of mental cultivation Jiang Jieyuan has reached?"

Nangong Wan'er's eyes flickered, and her lips parted slightly, revealing her undisguised curiosity.

The Great Zhou Dynasty emphasized literature and morality, and scholars needed to pass the imperial examinations to become Xiucai or Juren.

But the true path of spiritual cultivation often begins before attaining official rank.

The noble spirit that has settled in the classics, the histories, and the philosophical collections, and the literary wisdom nurtured in poetry and prose, are the foundation of literary cultivation.

The newly appointed top scholar, Jiang Xingzhou, possesses a wealth of knowledge and his writing is almost always excellent, clearly surpassing the realm of ordinary candidates.

Winning the provincial examination in Jiangnan was merely the tip of the iceberg of his talent; the literary resonance he evoked when his pen moved with great vigor revealed the unfathomable depth of his spiritual attainments.

"My level of spiritual cultivation?"

Jiang Xingzhou's eyes narrowed slightly, his fingertips lightly stroking the wine cup, a half-smile playing on his lips.

He had already stood up and was standing by the window with his hands behind his back.

The night breeze stirred my clothes, as if I were a banished immortal descending to earth.

Perhaps, we can answer with Li Bai's poem "Spending the Night at a Mountain Temple".

After a moment of contemplation, he looked up at the endless starry sky outside the window and said slowly:

"[A towering building a hundred feet high, one could pluck the stars with their hand.]"

I dare not speak loudly, lest I startle the celestial beings.

The voice has not fallen,

Suddenly——

He raised his hand, his fingers slightly spread, and gently grasped the vast starry river.

fingertip,

A single star, within reach!

In an instant, the entire night sky seemed to tremble!

The Big Dipper twinkled and shone, and the light of countless stars flowed and swirled, as if summoned, right there in the palm of his hand—

Transform into a dazzling galaxy!
"Whoosh-"

A dazzling starlight suddenly pierced the night sky!
Jiang Xingzhou felt a weight in his palm. Looking down, he saw a meteorite core circulating in his hand—it had condensed into a [National Guardian] Star Treasure.

Starlight flickers between the stone's patterns, as if it has captured the entire Milky Way.

"Holding the sun, moon and stars in my hand, there is no one like me in the world!"

Before he finished speaking, a glimmer of light suddenly appeared between his brows.

The halo, initially as small as a bean, instantly transformed into a three-foot-long radiance, outlining three ancient seal characters in the void: 【Heaven, Man, Realm】.

The moment the seal was completed, the entire Mingxin Pavilion fell into a profound silence.

The wind chimes on the eaves hung suspended in mid-air, and the ripples on the pond were frozen in time, like a painting. Even the night dew that passed through the corridor seemed to hang in mid-air, refracting countless starlight.

"Taoism. The Realm of Celestial Beings?"

Upon hearing this, Nangong Wan'er stopped breathing.

[I dare not speak loudly, lest I startle the celestial beings!]
This is a veiled hint that his realm has reached the heavenly realm, and he is close to the immortals in the heavens.

Therefore, "he dared not speak loudly, lest he startle the heavenly beings."

This means that what limits him is only his literary rank, not his own level of cultivation!

Breaking through the literary ranks was swift and unstoppable!

She clearly saw—

Under that clear light, the sun and moon seemed to revolve deep within the boy's eyes.

His left pupil held a blazing sun, while his right eye held a crescent moon. As his gaze shifted, it seemed as if the stars in the heavens shone and faded with it!

Nangong Wan'er looked at Jiang Xingzhou, her lips parted slightly, but she couldn't utter a word for a long time.

She stared blankly out the window at the young scholar standing beneath the starry sky, completely mesmerized, and felt a tightness in her chest.

The "plop, plop~" sounds were so clear, as if a little deer was rushing around inside my chest.

Never before have they jumped so violently.

The throbbing in her chest startled her.

Even more strangely, her cheeks suddenly felt hot, and even the tips of her ears felt burning.

The wine in the glass reflected her flushed eyes and dreamy gaze.

Before even drinking the wine, he was already drunk.

how so?

Her usually composed jade-like fingers unconsciously tightened around her silk sleeves, a slight tremor emanating from her fingertips.

In a daze, the figure of the young man with his wide sleeves fluttering in the wind gradually overlapped with the portrait of the banished immortal she had seen in the Taoist "Illustrations of Immortals" when she was young.

That ethereal, otherworldly feeling that seemed so distant was now right at hand.

Why does his figure seem like that of a celestial being from heaven?
She had never had such an experience in her life.

Nangong Wan'er picked up the jade wine cup and, using the act of drinking, covered half of her flushed face with her wide sleeve.

The icy liquor went down my throat, but it couldn't extinguish the inexplicable flame in my heart.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The morning bell and evening drum of the Luoyang Confucian Temple resounded six times in succession, like thunder, shaking the entire imperial city of the Great Zhou Dynasty.

In front of the White Horse Temple, ten thousand lanterns illuminated the daytime.

Under the shaded pavilions, tens of thousands of scholars and commoners who had not yet left sat on the ground, excitedly discussing philosophy all night long.

What they were arguing about was Jiang Xingzhou's two once-sensational Buddhist verses.

"Please listen, everyone—"

Suddenly, a clear and melodious voice came from afar, like a phoenix crying in the sky, resounding through the soul.

Everyone turned around in shock, only to see—inside the White Horse Temple, on the glazed tiles of the Mingxin Pavilion roof—

The Milky Way hangs upside down!

A boy can be vaguely seen leaning against the window, holding stars in his hand.

The radiance of billions of stars shifted and flowed, eventually condensing into a brilliant poem in the night sky:
[Spending the Night at a Mountain Temple]

The dangerous building is a hundred feet high, and the stars can be picked by hand.

I dare not speak loudly, lest I startle the celestial beings.
"boom--!"

The candidates at the Imperial College were incredulous and suddenly stood up, overturning a section of the bamboo mats under the canopy.

They looked up at the sky, their pupils dilated, their lips trembled, and they were speechless for a moment.

The Milky Way shines brightly, and poetry reflects the vast sky!

"It's Mingxin Pavilion!"

"Jiang Jieyuan...this is where Jiang Jieyuan is staying!"

"This piece...this piece is another masterpiece by the [National Treasure]?!"

"No, it's not just about protecting the country! The artistic conception of this poem has reached the realm of heaven and man, which is clearly the realm of cultivation of the mind in Taoism!"

The Daoist scholars of the Imperial Academy were moved to tears, covering their faces with their sleeves, choked with emotion.

"How many years...it must have been a full thirty years!!"
Finally, our Taoist sect has finally received a poem commemorating the nation, penned by Jiang Jieyuan!

An elderly Taoist scholar with white hair looked up at the sky and sighed, tears glistening in his cloudy eyes. "Jiang Jieyuan is truly the light of our Taoist school, a grandmaster of Taoism!"

Before he could finish speaking, a Confucian scholar suddenly stood up, glaring angrily:

"Absurd! Jiang Jieyuan clearly claims to be a Confucian scholar, and today he even came to participate in the 'Confucianism and Buddhism Discussion' as a Confucian scholar. How did he become your Taoist master?"

How did this poem become a Taoist artifact?
This article should be categorized under Confucianism!

"Ha! You're the one talking nonsense!"
Although Jiang Jieyuan said he studied Confucianism, he didn't say he didn't practice Taoism. Is it strange that he practiced both Confucianism and Taoism?

The Taoist cultivator sneered and waved his sleeve, "The three words 'celestial being' in the poem clearly allude to the celestial realm of my Taoist sect!"

When did Confucianism begin to speak of "humans from heaven"?

"So what if this poem belongs to our Taoist school?!"

"Strong words!"

The Confucian scholars were furious. "This poem has a transcendent artistic conception, clearly showing the Confucian scholar's ambition to embrace the world! How dare you Daoists forcibly seize my Confucian talent?!"

"Come on, let's settle this with our fists!"

Let's see whose fist is harder!

In front of the White Horse Temple, Confucian scholars and Taoist scholars from the Imperial Academy argued heatedly, even fighting shirtless.

"boom--!"

The pavilion in front of the White Horse Temple, where people were usually engaged in philosophical discussions, suddenly erupted in chaos!

Confucian scholars rolled up their sleeves and raised their fists, while Taoist cultivators made hand seals and chanted incantations; in an instant—

The literary spirit surged, and the Daoist principles surged!

In the distance, the monks of Baima Temple looked at each other, unsure how to offer any advice, and shook their heads with wry smiles.

Today, Jiang Xingzhou composed two national-level Buddhist verses, plunging their Buddhist community into unprecedented chaos in their practice, leaving them unsure of what to do.

However, the Buddhist community did manage to add two new articles on "Protecting the Nation," which somewhat made up for the loss.

now……

Scholars from the Confucian and Taoist schools at the Imperial College actually got into a fight over who should own Jiang Xingzhou's poem "Spending the Night at a Mountain Temple"!
Jiang Xingzhou leaned on the railing and gazed into the distance, the night breeze from Mingxin Pavilion lifting the hem of his robe.

Outside the White Horse Temple in the distance, a group of candidates from the Imperial College were inexplicably wrestling together. Scholars' hats and robes were scattered all over the ground, and Taoist robes and Confucian gowns were tangled and torn, making the scene look particularly absurd under the lamplight.

He shook his head, chuckled, and sighed, "These scholars from the Imperial Academy are even more hot-blooded than street ruffians."

As he turned around, he saw that Nangong Wan'er's cheeks were flushed, and her eyes held a rare languidness.

The white jade wine cup twirled lightly between her fingers, the remaining wine inside reflecting starlight and shimmering with hazy halos.

"Lord Nangong, you are drunk."

Jiang Xingzhou smiled gently.

Nangong Wan'er suddenly put down her wine cup, the clinking sound of the porcelain cup being particularly crisp in the quiet night.

She looked up, her eyes misty: "Since entering the palace, I've always walked on thin ice; I've never felt so free and unrestrained as I am tonight."

He paused slightly, as if carefully choosing his words.
Her slender fingers unconsciously caressed the rim of her cup, and her voice gradually lowered: "Tonight, I witnessed Jiang Jieyuan composing the poem 'Zhenguo' with his brush, and I became so carried away that I drank a few too many cups. I have been impolite."

A night breeze swept by, scattering a strand of her dark hair at her temple.

"Since there's no one else here, how about you call me Nangong?"

She suddenly looked up, her eyes sparkling with starlight.

Jiang Xingzhou poured wine from a jug, the amber-colored liquor rippling in the moonlight, reflecting the starry sky outside the pavilion: "Miss Nangong, since you've had your fill, why not have another cup?"

He lightly tapped the rim of the cup with his fingertips, producing a clear and melodious sound. "I've heard that Miss's writing is exquisite, and she is known as a 'literary master' in Luoyang's literary circles?"

Nangong Wan'er's eyes rippled slightly, and a light smile appeared on her lips: "My father was a Grand Academician of the Wenyuan Pavilion and once served as Prime Minister. I have only read some poems and books since I was a child."

She raised her hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the pearl on the jade hairpin swaying gently in the moonlight.
He twirled the wine cup in his palm, then smiled faintly, his eyes lowered: "Later, I did write a few humble works in [Dazhou and Mingzhou], and I also edited a few volumes of the 'Luoshui Anthology' for the Imperial Academy. I also reviewed some articles!"

She paused abruptly, and when she looked up, it seemed as if stars had fallen from her eyes. "How can I take those unwarranted praises from the scholars of the Imperial Academy seriously?"

Nangong Wan'er suddenly leaned forward, her breath a deep blue, carrying a hint of drunkenness and a touch of seriousness: "Compared to Jiang Jieyuan's poem just now, 'A perilous tower rises a hundred feet high, one can pluck the stars with their hand,' how dare my firefly's light compete with the bright moon?"

Her fingertips unconsciously traced the intertwined floral pattern on the cup, her voice so soft it almost dissipated in the wind.

Once upon a time, she was a talented woman admired by all in Luoyang, and her poems from Dafu and Mingzhou were widely copied by scholars.
But at this moment, in front of Jiang Xingzhou, they were like grains of rice.

I learned a new sword dance the other day—

This perfectly matches your poem, "Spending the Night at a Mountain Temple"!
Please, Young Master Jiang, take a look.

Nangong Wan'er suddenly raised her eyebrows, her cheeks flushed with intoxication, and through her hazy, drunken eyes, the gold bracelet on her wrist jingled.

The soft sword at his waist was drawn like a silver snake, slicing a cold light in the moonlight.
As she staggered drunkenly, her skirt fluttered like a startled swan spreading its wings.

"Shh!"

As the sword passed, it cleaved the candle flame on the table in two—the flickering flame was still burning, but it had become two separate clusters of flame at the tip of the sword.

Your Excellency Mingxin.

Captain Meng Zhan of the Imperial Guard stood with his hand on his sword, his heavy black iron armor gleaming coldly in the moonlight.

He stood upright on the stone steps, his figure as straight as a pine tree, even the cloud patterns on his armor were covered in frost. Occasionally, a fallen flower would brush against his shoulder, but the moment it touched his iron armor, it would be shattered by an invisible killing intent.

Upstairs, Nangong Wan'er and Jiang Xingzhou were drinking and chatting all night, their laughter faintly audible, but he didn't even flinch.

His right hand remained lightly pressed against the hilt of the sword, about three inches away—a distance that could instantly sever flying petals.

White Horse Temple.

Inside the main hall, hundreds of ever-burning lamps sway gracefully, illuminating the gilded Buddha statue and making it appear solemn and majestic.

The lights are dim, and I stay up all night.

Abbot Huiri sat upright on a lotus platform, with a Buddhist rosary made of a thousand-year-old Bodhi seed hanging between his brows, gleaming with a warm luster in the lamplight.

Five elders sat on either side, their sandalwood prayer beads shimmering with a faint Buddhist light as they turned them.

The head disciple, Abbot Shihuai, stood with his head bowed, nine golden threads on his robe swirling in the light and shadow.

The head monk of the Sutra Repository held a fragment of the Diamond Sutra between his fingers.

The elder who protects the stupa still holds a warm eight-treasure glazed cup in his palm.

Dozens of eminent monks sat in a row. The monks clasped their hands together, their faces solemn.

"Amitabha.

Ladies and gentlemen, please make your decision quickly!

Abbot Huiri said in a deep voice: "The two Buddhist verses—the Bodhi Verse, which is a gradual method of cultivation, and the Non-Bodhi Verse, which is a method of sudden enlightenment—are completely contradictory."

If you hesitate and your mind is in turmoil, you will sooner or later develop inner demons!
His Buddhist spiritual attainments have plummeted again and again!

The hall was silent, with only the faint sound of flickering candlelight.

The monks remained silent, their heads bowed, a hint of struggle visible between their brows.

They knew that today's choice not only concerned the thousand-year-old heritage of Baima Temple, but would also determine their own path of spiritual practice—either step by step leading to enlightenment, or a moment of transcendence.

"Is it possible to... practice the Dual Buddha Verse together?"

An old monk in the scripture pavilion suddenly spoke, his voice hoarse as if grinding sand, "Grandmaster Jiang is not bound by appearances; those two Buddhist verses were like a gentle breeze passing by his ear, leaving not a single leaf attached. Since he can do this, we, this humble monk, will..."

"Foolishness!"

Abbot Huiri suddenly opened his eyes, and the Buddhist beads in his sleeve jingled. "Grandmaster Jiang has reached the state of 'no Buddha and no self,' where he does not chant the Buddha's name but the Buddha chants it himself, and he does not practice Zen but Zen is achieved on its own."

He had not yet entered the Buddhist order, yet he had already composed two Buddhist verses that could "protect the nation"!

"How dare we mortals imitate her?"

The old monk swayed slightly, as if struck by a blow, staggered back half a step, and looked dejected.

Not bad!

He devoted his entire life to studying hundreds of volumes of scriptures, yet he never wrote a single Buddhist verse of the highest caliber.

How can I compare to Grandmaster Jiang?

"Disciple... wishes to uphold the Bodhi Verse and gradually cultivate to attain enlightenment."

With hands clasped in prayer, his monk's robe fluttered even without wind, and a dot of vermilion between his brows shone brightly like a flame under the lamplight.

"This old monk chose the 'Non-Bodhi Verse' to instantly dispel my delusions."

The abbot of the Demon Subduing Temple spoke with a voice like the clanging of metal, and the Vajra Pestle at his waist suddenly flashed with a cold light, startling the crows outside the hall into scattering.

After an incense stick had burned, the dust settled.

Sixty percent of the monks belong to the gradual cultivation school, while forty percent turn to the sudden enlightenment school.

Abbot Hui Ri himself also chose the method of gradual cultivation.

The ever-burning lamps before the Buddha flickered on and off, casting uncertain shadows on the faces of the monks at Baima Temple—as if destiny had already parted at this moment.

(End of this chapter)