Under One Person: My Inner Realm Connects to All Worlds!

Chapter 76 The Painted Sculpture Comes True
Bingzhou, the center of Jin Province, was also known as Longcheng.

Chu Yunfei once said, "Don't look down on me just because I'm from Shanxi Province. I don't protect my own. Shanxi cuisine is low-class and not presentable."

But that's not actually the case. Shanxi cuisine is mainly salty and savory, with sweet and sour as secondary flavors, and it emphasizes the original taste. For example, for example... um!

Han Yun did some research on the high-speed train and found that some of the more famous dishes in Shanxi include braised pork, sweet and sour carp, astragalus mutton soup, assorted hot pot, and braised plum meat with lotus leaf pancakes, among others.

After getting off the high-speed train, I exited the station.

Han Yun transformed the Golden Lion into a cat doll and hung it on his backpack. He then stayed in Bingzhou for a while, tasting all the local delicacies, before heading to the ancient city of Pingtao.

Some traditions are not found in big cities, but in the countryside and mountains.

Interestingly, Pingtao is also known as the Turtle City.

The south gate is shaped like a turtle's head, with two wells outside the gate symbolizing the turtle's eyes; the north gate is shaped like a turtle's tail, with the city gate curving eastward, resembling a turtle's tail swaying; the four barbicans on the east and west sides resemble turtle claws.

The city is laid out in a pattern of four main streets, eight alleys, and seventy-two winding lanes, resembling a tortoise shell. This pattern subtly reflects the Bagua (Eight Trigrams) and the concept of harmony between heaven and man, and also embodies the ancients' vision of a secure and lasting peace.

Shuanglin Temple here was Han Yun's first stop in Shanxi Province.

According to Buddhist scriptures, at that time the Buddha lay down under the twin trees, with his head to the north and his face to the west, on his right side, and passed away peacefully and ascended to heaven. The twin trees on all four sides suddenly bloomed with white flowers, which is called "entering Nirvana in the Twin Trees".

The name "Shuanglin" is not uncommon among Buddhist temples, but only here is it worth Han Yun's visit, because the painted sculptures here are exceptional and can be called "the treasure trove of Eastern painted sculpture art".

As Han Yun stepped into the gate of Shuanglin Temple, dusk was falling, and the afterglow of the setting sun slanted across the mottled vermilion walls, gilding this ancient temple with a golden glow.

Ancient cypress trees stand tall inside the temple, and wind chimes tinkle softly from the eaves.

His gaze fell directly on the four Vajra Warrior sculptures in the Hall of Heavenly Kings. They were depicted with wide-open, angry eyes, their robes billowing as if they were real, their muscles flowing and full, and even the metallic luster on their armor was brought out through layers of paint.

The strangest thing is that when Han Yun moved to the side, the King Kong's eyes seemed to move slightly with his movements, as if they were alive.

"Interesting. The clay sculptures contain the power of incense offerings and prayers. It seems we've found the right place."

Passing through the front hall, the statue of Weituo stands prominently.

This painted sculpture, hailed as the "Number One Weituo in the World," is clad in armor, holding a vajra in its left hand, with its right hand clenched into a fist and hanging down, elbow outward, head held high and chest out, standing in a T-stance, exuding great majesty.

At the same time, his brows were furrowed and his eyes were glaring ahead, giving people a sense of uprightness and strictness.

The beast-headed mouth of the armor and the cloud-patterned folds of the robe are all clearly visible. Its body is twisted in an S-shape, and the belt flies from its shoulders to its heels, as if it is about to break through the air at any moment.

Han Yun stared at Wei Tuo's bright, piercing eyes, about to take a closer look, when suddenly a rustling sound came from behind him.

Turning my head, I saw an old monk in an indigo robe sweeping fallen leaves, the rustling sound of the bamboo broom cutting through the blue bricks very regular.

The old monk, without even looking up, said, "Benefactor, the temple bell is about to ring."

Before the words were finished, the evening drum resounded loudly, startling a flock of gray pigeons from the eaves.

Han Yun smiled slightly, cupped his hands and said, "Master, I have come from afar specifically to admire the painted sculptures of Shuanglin Temple. Would you do me the favor of allowing me to stay a little longer?"

The old monk then raised his head, revealing a wrinkled face, but his eyes were bright and piercing, yet seemed extremely complex, as if they contained hundreds and thousands of reflections.

He stared at Han Yun for a few seconds, then glanced at the "cat plush toy" hanging on his backpack, and his brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

“Young benefactor, some things are not something you can get just because you want them. Go back, and I'll pretend you were never here,” the old monk said meaningfully, his broom still slowly sweeping the ground.

Han Yun felt something was off, as if the old monk was implying something, but since he had been rejected, it was best to leave first.

He found a small hotel nearby to stay in.

While eating at a food stall that evening, his hearing became incredibly sharp, and he unwittingly overheard the whispers of the three people next to him. "Have you checked all the plates?"

A chubby man with a cheerful demeanor whispered, "Don't worry, brother. Although there are many tourists at Shuanglin Temple during the day, the patrols aren't very strict at night, and we've figured out their patterns."

Another tall, thin man lowered his voice and said, "Those painted sculptures, someone on the black market is asking for this much. After we pull off this job, it'll be enough for us to live on for several years."

He held up five fingers and waved them under the table.

The one called "Big Brother," with a rugged and fierce face, finally decided, "Alright, let's make our move tonight."

Han Yun calmly picked up a piece of stir-fried pork with his chopsticks, and glanced at the three people's bulging backpacks out of the corner of his eye, and immediately understood.

He wondered why the old monk he met today had such a strange attitude; perhaps he thought the monk was one of the thieves!

Han Yun stroked his chin: "How about we go take a look tonight?"

-----

Midnight.

Three dark figures scaled the east wall of the temple, passed through several courtyards, and arrived at the Thousand Buddha Hall.

The hall was dimly lit, with only a few rays of moonlight shining obliquely through the window lattices, illuminating the densely packed painted sculptures.

These statues, some sitting and some standing, each with a different expression—some with kind and benevolent eyes, others with angry and stern ones—seem to have truly come alive in the darkness, silently watching the intruders.

"B-Big brother, why do I feel like these painted sculptures are watching us?"

The fat man shivered, and the powerful flashlight in his hand trembled slightly.

The tall, thin man swallowed hard, forcing himself to remain calm, and said, "Stop scaring yourself, get to work!"

The eldest brother snorted coldly, took out tools from his backpack, and ordered in a low voice, "Fatty, go keep watch at the door. Skinny Monkey, come with me, let's pry off the glass eyes of that Weituo statue first."

The fat man shrank his neck and tiptoed back to the palace gate, but as soon as he turned around, he suddenly felt a cold wind sweep past him.

"Who?!"

The fat man turned around abruptly, his flashlight beam flailing wildly, but he could only see the shadows of the painted sculptures inside the hall, with no one in sight.

"What are you yelling about!"

The tall, thin man turned around and glared at him impatiently.

The fat man was sweating profusely and stammered, "There...there was someone just now..."

"waste!"

The older brother cursed, his crowbar already pressed against the eye socket of the Weituo statue. "Hurry up!"

Before he could finish speaking, a low sigh suddenly echoed in the hall.

The sound seemed both near and far, as if emanating simultaneously from the mouths of each painted sculpture, echoing eerily in the empty hall. The three froze instantly, cold sweat pouring down their backs.

"B-Big brother, did you hear that?" The tall, thin man's voice had changed.

The older brother's hands trembled slightly, but he still forced himself to curse, "Playing tricks, it must be some monk..."

Suddenly, the painted sculptures in the hall all turned their eyes, and hundreds of gazes shot towards the three of them like sharp arrows.

(End of this chapter)