The Three Teachings Converge into One: The Path of the Mortal and the Saintly is the Same

Poetry:

The Luo River flows swiftly around the imperial capital, and the vermilion steps and red doors are bathed in the glow of the setting sun.

Prosperity cannot conceal the suffering of the people; the separation of the three religions on the main road has led to their decline.

In the early summer of the ninth year of Jinghe, the wheat fields of the Central Plains rippled like gold, and pomegranate blossoms blazed across the countryside. The afterglow of the Mingdao Conference in Yique City had not yet dissipated when Su Qingxuan, riding the evening breeze of early summer, arrived at the capital city of Luoyang of the Great Xia Dynasty.

Having spent several years studying in Qingxi Town, Jiangnan, Su Qingxuan has grown from a commoner boy into a young and promising scholar well-versed in the three teachings (Confucianism, Taoism, and Buddhism). He has traversed the Gobi Desert of the Western Regions, witnessed the snow and wind of the border towns of the Northern Frontier, comprehended the Yin-Yang Taiji of Langya Mountain, and contemplated the Zen mind and emptiness of Dajue Temple. The three treasures in his heart—a fragment of Confucian teachings, an ancient bronze seal, and an ancient withered tree—have long resonated with each other through his experiences in the mortal world. The doctrines of the three teachings, like a hundred rivers flowing into the sea, have condensed into a harmonious and unobstructed primordial energy within his dantian.

Standing at the Tianjin Bridgehead of the South Gate of Luoyang, one is immediately struck by the grandeur and prosperity of the imperial capital. Nestled against the Mangshan Mountains to the north and bordering the Luo River to the south, with Hulao Pass controlling the east and Hangu Pass the west, the ancient capital's spirit, like ancient pines and cypresses, permeates every brick and tile. The towering Zhuque Gate stands majestically, its vermilion lacquer, though weathered by time, still exuding imperial majesty; the four gilded characters "Great Xia Imperial Capital" above the lintel, written by Emperor Gaozu himself, shine brightly in the early summer sun.

Upon entering the city, the sights in the streets and alleys were even more dazzling. The bluestone pavement was smooth as a mirror from the wear and tear of carriages and horses. Shops lined both sides of the road, and the banners of taverns and teahouses fluttered in the wind. The wine flag of "The First Restaurant Under Heaven" hung high, and the aroma of pastries from "Baiweiju" wafted across half the street. Nobles and princes in brocade robes rode by on horseback, their jade belts jingling at their waists, followed closely by their servants. Groups of scholars in Confucian robes held books and discussed philosophy loudly, full of vigor and spirit. Taoist priests in Taoist robes walked gracefully, waving their whisks lightly, attracting crowds of believers to watch. Monks in kasayas went along the streets begging for alms, leaning on their staffs, their chanting lingering in the air.

Luoyang, as the most virtuous place under heaven, truly lives up to its reputation. Compared to the gentle, misty charm of Qingxi Town in Jiangnan, and the vibrant intellectual atmosphere of Yique City, it is far more majestic and magnificent, a place where culture and learning converge. Su Qingxuan, dressed in a faded coarse blue robe and carrying a simple book box, walked among the common people. His simple clothes and shoes did not seem out of place at all—five years of studying abroad had allowed him to fully absorb the uprightness, elegance, and compassion of the three religions into his very being. Every gesture he made exuded an extraordinary and refined aura, drawing admiring glances from passersby.

He originally intended to return to Qingxi Town in Jiangnan to visit his parents, but then he reconsidered. Luoyang was the central hub of the world, a gathering place for the three religions, and the location of the imperial court. It was the perfect place to test his own Daoist heart and understand the general trend of the world. He would return to Qingxi Town after the affairs on this border were settled. So he temporarily put aside his thoughts of returning home, found a cheap inn in the south of the city to stay in, and every morning he would stroll through the streets and alleys of Luoyang, observing the various aspects of life and the hardships of the people.

Upon arriving in Luoyang, Su Qingxuan was struck by its prosperity. On the Luo River, painted boats glided on the water, accompanied by the constant sounds of music. The ladies on board smiled radiantly, creating a picturesque scene against the backdrop of the willows on the banks. In the Mangshan Mountains, Taoist temples and Buddhist monasteries were scattered like stars, with the sounds of morning bells and evening drums echoing through the air, attracting a constant stream of pilgrims and tourists. Within the city, the Imperial Academy and the National Academy resounded with the sound of students engrossed in their studies, hoping to one day achieve academic success and bring glory to their families.

This magnificent scene brought a sense of comfort to Su Qingxuan. He recalled that when he left his hometown five years ago, Qingxi Town was also a peaceful and tranquil place. Although the world is not at peace now, there is no great chaos either. The three religions still flourish in the Central Plains, and the foundation of the Great Xia Dynasty remains intact.

But this comfort lasted only three days before being shattered by the subtle sounds from the streets and alleys.

That morning, Su Qingxuan strolled along the banks of the Luo River, intending to admire the waterscape of the capital. He then saw dozens of ragged refugees huddled under a bridge. Most were emaciated and thinly clothed; some held infants in their arms, sobbing softly; others leaned on canes, gazing at the surging Luo River with eyes full of despair; still others had children crying loudly from hunger, their mothers feeding them only with dried grass roots, yet even this could not stop their weeping.

The banks of the Luo River were once the most bustling area of ​​Luoyang, with painted boats coming and going and tourists thronging the streets. Yet these displaced people were treated like dust, ignored by everyone. Su Qingxuan's heart sank. He quickly stepped forward, took out some dry rations from his book box, and handed them to the youngest child. The child timidly accepted the food and wolfed it down. The mother immediately knelt down and kowtowed, her voice hoarse: "Thank you, young master, thank you, young master... The Luoyang government levied an additional tax on river works, supposedly to repair the river embankments to prevent flooding. But the officials embezzled most of the tax money, and the embankment was only half-finished before construction stopped. This year, there has been a lot of spring rain, and the river is about to overflow. Our fields are flooded, our house is washed away, and we had to flee to the city. We can't even get a full meal..."

Seeing this, a nearby vendor sighed, wiped the sweat from his brow, and said bitterly, "Young master, you don't know this. Luoyang may look prosperous, but the hardships beneath are endless. The government imposes exorbitant taxes, and officials embezzle funds, line their own pockets. Most of what we small businesses earn in a day goes to the officials. If we're not careful, our stalls will be confiscated. Just a few days ago, Old Man Zhang from the west of the city had his leg broken by the yamen runners because he couldn't pay the poll tax. He's still lying in a dilapidated temple now..."

Su Qingxuan's heart sank upon hearing this. During his travels, he had witnessed the devastation of Anfeng Dike and the massacres of Hanshi Town, but he had never imagined that Luoyang, the capital of the Great Xia Dynasty, could harbor such profound suffering among its people. Beneath the magnificent palaces and vermilion doors lay the cries of displaced people; within the bustling streets and alleys lay the oppressive rule of officials; within the once-prosperous altars of the three religions, had the believers all been corrupted? No one spoke out for justice, no one inquired about the world's suffering?

He continued along the Luo River and encountered several officials wielding sticks, driving away an old woman who was selling peonies on the street. The woman's stall contained only a few baskets of fresh peonies, but the officials kicked them over, scattering the peonies across the ground, where they were trampled to pieces by the horses' hooves. The old woman cried out, "Sir, I'm just selling some peonies to exchange for rice and grain, why are you so cruel?"

The head constable, with a face full of scars, kicked the old woman in the chest and sneered, "Old woman, the Luoyang Prefecture has decreed that all street vendors must pay market tax and poll tax. If you don't pay, you're disobeying orders, and beating you is the least you deserve!"

Su Qingxuan stepped forward, stopping the official, and asked gently, "May I ask, sir, what are the regulations for the market tax and poll tax in Luoyang Prefecture? Why haven't we seen any official announcements about them before?"

Upon seeing Su Qingxuan, whose bearing was extraordinary yet who was dressed in plain clothes, the clerk felt a mixture of fear and contempt in his eyes. He spoke with a fierce but weak tone, "Boy, stop meddling in other people's business! How dare a country bumpkin like you question the regulations of Luoyang Prefecture? If you dare say another word, you'll be beaten too!"

Having said that, the bailiff swung his stick to strike Su Qingxuan. Su Qingxuan dodged to the side, and the primordial energy of the three religions slowly circulated within his dantian. A righteous and peaceful aura surrounded him, and the bailiff felt a jolt in his heart, and the stick could no longer fall.

Seeing this, the surrounding people gathered around, some whispering in agreement, others daring not to speak out. Su Qingxuan's heart grew heavier at the sight. In the capital, the bureaucracy had become so corrupt; beneath the prosperity, the people suffered so much; and beneath the veneer of the Great Xia Dynasty's golden age, it was likely riddled with holes.

He didn't argue with the officials, but helped the old woman up, picked up the scattered peonies one by one and put them into a bamboo basket. He then took out a few copper coins from his book box, handed them to the old woman, and said gently, "Old lady, take this money and buy some rice. Don't set up a stall anymore, or you might run into bad people again."

The old woman took the copper coins, tears streaming down her face, and repeatedly kowtowed to Su Qingxuan, saying, "Young master, you are a good person, a good person indeed..."

Su Qingxuan waved his hand and turned to continue walking. He suddenly recalled the enlightenment given by the old monk Chengkong in Yique City: "The unity of the three teachings is not about mixing and blending, but about returning to the same principle, using different methods to achieve the same goal." Looking at the current situation in Luoyang, the three teachings are acting independently, indifferent to the suffering of the people, not only failing to unite and save the world, but also becoming the source of internal strife and conflict, with the common people becoming the ultimate victims. Is this the sign of the end times?

That afternoon, Su Qingxuan arrived at Xiude Square in the center of Luoyang City—the very place where the Three Religions of the Great Xia Dynasty held their grand forum.

On the square, Confucianism, Taoism, and Buddhism each occupied a side, their altar flags fluttering in the wind, and believers gathered in large numbers, each holding their own views and refusing to yield to one another, creating a noisy and chaotic scene.

Before the Confucian altar, a venerable scholar nearing fifty, dressed in a brocade robe and holding a jade-handled whisk, loudly proclaimed to the assembled scholars: "The teachings of Confucius and Mencius are the unchanging principles of Heaven and Earth! Confucian scholars establish order through propriety, bring peace to the people through benevolence, engage in worldly affairs to govern, and uphold the fundamental principles of governance—this is the true path of the Great Xia! Taoism and Buddhism, with their empty talk of metaphysical principles and escapist inaction, not only fail to benefit the nation and its people but also disrupt the order of our court! We should exclusively uphold Confucianism and reject heresies to ensure peace throughout the land!"

As soon as he finished speaking, his disciples behind him echoed him, their voices booming: "Honor Confucianism! Suppress heresy! Bring peace to the world!"

Su Qingxuan glanced at him coldly and saw a tiny jade ornament with a bluebird pattern embedded in the great scholar's whisk—the emblem of the current Prime Minister Zhang Congyao. Half of the students at the Luoyang Imperial Academy were his students. The so-called respect for Confucianism and rejection of dissidents was nothing more than using the Confucian ideals to justify the factional struggles at court. This hidden meaning went unnoticed by the thousands of believers in the square. Only Su Qingxuan, who had traveled and studied for years, familiar with the marks of powerful figures throughout the land, and who had absorbed the essence of the three religions, possessed a keen and insightful mind and a perception far beyond that of ordinary people. He saw through the mystery at a glance.

Before the Taoist altar, a Taoist priest dressed in a Bagua robe, with an air of otherworldly wisdom, holding a whisk, scoffed upon hearing this, saying, "Mr. Yang, you are mistaken! The Great Way of Heaven and Earth originates from nature. The Tao Te Ching says, 'The Tao gives birth to One, One gives birth to Two, Two gives birth to Three, Three gives birth to all things.' The Tao follows nature and governs through non-action. Confucian scholars are bound by ritual and etiquette, forcibly establishing order with human power, which goes against the original nature of Heaven and Earth. We Taoists cultivate our hearts to unite with Heaven, follow the four seasons, do not act recklessly, and are not attached to anything. All things transform themselves, and the world is at peace. How can the pedantic Confucian school compare to us?"

The Taoist priests nearby also chimed in, shouting, "The Tao follows nature! It governs through non-action! Confucianism is outdated!"

Beneath the collar of the Taoist priest's robe, a gilded token was faintly visible, engraved with the character "Liu"—a private note belonging to Liu Chengye, the emperor's brother-in-law. The Liu family, being powerful relatives of the imperial family, controlled the construction of the royal palaces. The three royal Taoist temples outside Luoyang were all funded by the Liu family, and the Taoist disciples, supported by them, naturally defended the power of this powerful relative, using Taoist principles to rival the Confucian prime minister. Such behavior, relying on the powerful, was all talk and no action; it had long lost the pure and inactive nature of Taoism. Su Qingxuan, observing this, felt a pang of sorrow.

Before the Buddhist altar, an elderly monk clad in a patched robe held sandalwood prayer beads, softly chanting Buddhist mantras, his eyes filled with compassion. But the young monk beside him, looking impatient, stepped forward and loudly proclaimed, “Master, why bother with Confucianism and Taoism? Buddhism teaches ‘dependent origination and emptiness, enlightenment of mind and seeing one’s true nature.’ Worldly strife and the suffering of all beings arise from deep attachments, being deluded by external appearances, and losing sight of one’s true self. We only need to diligently cultivate Buddhism, break free from attachments, and realize our true nature—that is the ultimate truth. Why should we concern ourselves with worldly affairs and the lives of ordinary people?”

Upon hearing this, the surrounding Buddhist believers nodded in agreement. Some said, "All beings are saved by themselves, and salvation is granted according to one's own karma," while others said, "The mortal world is all illusion; cultivating the mind is sufficient." The young monk's prayer beads were round and translucent, made of warm jade from Hetian in the Western Regions, something ordinary people could not afford. A dark gold ribbon was tied to the string of beads, an exclusive ornament of Xiao Jing, the Prince of Heluo. The prince, with his powerful army, controlled Heluo and used Buddhism as a shield to win over the people. The young monk's statement of "not caring about worldly affairs" was actually a way for the prince to downplay his own power, maintain his military strength while remaining indifferent to worldly affairs, thus allaying the emperor's suspicions and preserving his own authority.

The three religions each held their own views, spouting benevolence and morality, yet each harbored their own selfish motives. The arguments raged on, the clamor shaking Xiude Square. Many onlookers gathered, their faces filled with bewilderment, unsure of right and wrong. In the past, when people faced disaster, they sought Taoism; when they were in distress, they sought Buddhism; when they sought knowledge, they sought Confucianism. The three religions were their spiritual anchors. But now, these anchors had become tools for mutual slander. Beneath the sacred facade lay only sectarianism and court infighting. The confusion and despair in the eyes of ordinary people, like the mist over the Luo River, permeated the square.

Su Qingxuan slowly walked into the center of the crowd, his aura of the three religions contained within him, like a speck of dust, hidden in the mortal world. He did not immediately rebuke them, but quietly listened to the arguments of the three religions, watched the fervor of the believers, watched the covert manipulation of the powerful and their henchmen, watched the refugees huddled in the corners of the square, not even qualified to hear the teachings, only able to starve and watch this conflict that had nothing to do with him.

The Confucian scrolls in his arms suddenly warmed slightly, and a subtle thought entered Su Qingxuan's consciousness: "Cultivate oneself to bring peace to the people; when the people are at peace, the world is at peace." A warm, blue light faintly flowed across the ancient bronze seal, and the cloud patterns on the seal's knob seemed connected to the energy of heaven and earth, sensing the turbulent atmosphere of the world. An ancient, withered tree quietly sprouted a faint new green—a sign of compassion, a sign of life, a sign that the fundamental compassion of the three religions had not been extinguished. These three anomalies were hidden in the smallest details, unnoticed by anyone except Su Qingxuan himself—the three treasures were warning him, and also calling him back to his roots, calling on cultivators to rediscover their original compassion for the world.

Just as the dispute among the three religions intensified and they were about to come to blows, Su Qingxuan slowly stepped forward and stood between the three altars. He was slender and dressed in simple clothes, appearing exceptionally small among the splendidly dressed Confucian scholars, Taoist priests, and monks. Yet, when he spoke, his voice was clear and gentle, like a spring flowing into a parched field, instantly silencing the clamor of the entire arena.

"Esteemed teachers and fellow practitioners, I, Su Qingxuan, have a question for you all."

A sudden silence fell over the entire hall, all eyes fixed on the nameless, plain-clad youth. The Confucian scholar, Master Yang, frowned and sternly rebuked him: "Who is this wild brat, daring to speak so presumptuously before the Three Religions Altar in Xiude Square? Retreat immediately to avoid further humiliation!"

The Taoist priest flicked his whisk and said coldly, "A mere child like you knows the great principles of the three religions? Stop spouting nonsense!"

A young Buddhist monk clasped his hands together and sneered: "You worldly mortals, clinging to worldly disputes, find it difficult to understand emptiness. Quickly retreat and don't create trouble for yourselves."

Faced with the three rebukes, Su Qingxuan remained unmoved, simply bowing to them in a Confucian gesture, imbued with Daoist humility, and concealing Buddhist reverence—a harmonious blend of the three. He said, “I have studied for many years, learning the doctrines of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism. I deeply understand that Confucianism governs the world with benevolence, Taoism transforms the people with compassion, and Buddhism saves all beings with mercy. The essence of all three lies in ‘saving the world.’ Today, you are all clinging to sectarian views, relentlessly attacking me, ignoring the displaced people along the Luo River, the corrupt and oppressive government of Luoyang, and the suffering of the people. Such arguments run counter to the true meaning of the three schools; is this not a sign of the Dharma-ending Age?”

These words caused an uproar. The great Confucian scholar's face flushed red, and he shouted sternly, "These heretical words are misleading the public! Our Confucian school upholds the moral order, which is to bring peace to the world!"

"The fundamental principles of governance are benevolent rule and the well-being of the people." Su Qingxuan looked directly at the great Confucian scholar and quoted the classics in a loud voice, "The Analects says: 'If the people are well-off, how can the ruler be lacking? If the people are lacking, how can the ruler be well-off?' Now, Luoyang Prefecture is imposing exorbitant taxes and levies, and displaced people are losing their homes. Instead of remonstrating with the government and comforting the people, you Confucian masters are here vying for fame and power. Is this the true Confucian path taught by Confucius and Mencius?"

The great Confucian scholar was speechless, and the scholars behind him also lowered their heads. They had also studied the classics since childhood and were not without the idea of ​​benevolent governance in their hearts. However, they had been influenced by sectarianism and the powerful and wealthy, and had gradually lost their original intentions. At this moment, Su Qingxuan's words awakened them, and they all showed their shame.

Su Qingxuan then turned to the Taoist priest and said gently, "The Taoist priest speaks of governing through non-action, but the *Tao Te Ching* also says: 'The sage is always good at saving people, therefore there are no abandoned people; always good at saving things, therefore there are no abandoned things.' Non-action means not acting recklessly, not not acting at all. Now the people are suffering, displaced and homeless, yet the Taoist priest, supported by the imperial family and possessing Taoist temple lands, does not go to distribute porridge and provide relief, but instead competes with the Confucian school here. Is this the Taoist 'compassionate salvation'?"

Master Xuanqing's face turned pale, his whisk fell to the ground, and he was speechless. He had cultivated for decades and knew the principle of helping the world through family, but he was constrained by the support of his maternal relatives and had no choice in his actions. Now that the young man had pointed this out, he felt a surge of guilt.

Finally, Su Qingxuan looked at the young Buddhist monk, clasped his hands, and said, "Master, you speak of attaining enlightenment and transcending worldly concerns. However, the Diamond Sutra says, 'One should abide nowhere and yet give rise to the mind.' Abiding nowhere means not being attached to wealth, lust, fame, or food; giving rise to the mind means giving rise to compassion and Bodhicitta. The Buddha cut off his own flesh to feed the eagle and sacrificed himself to feed the tiger, all for the sake of saving sentient beings. When did he ever abandon the people? Now, the refugees in Luoyang are suffering from hunger and cold, and Master, sitting on the laurels of the Buddhist temple, does not go to save those suffering. Instead, he clings to empty doctrines and ignores the common people. Is this the Buddhist concept of 'compassion'?"

The young monk's face turned ashen. He opened his mouth to argue, but Su Qingxuan's reasoning rendered him speechless. The old monk behind him chanted a Buddhist prayer, his eyes filled with even more compassion. He gently tugged at the young monk's sleeve, signaling him to stop talking.

The square was silent. The previous clamor and disputes had vanished, leaving only the low sobs of the refugees, intertwined with the murmuring of the Luo River, creating a particularly jarring sound.

Seeing the expressions on everyone's faces, Su Qingxuan knew their true nature hadn't been extinguished, so he continued slowly, "The distinction between the three teachings lies in their forms and methods, not in their hearts; the difference between the mortal and the sage lies in their cultivation and enlightenment, not in their commitment to saving the world. The Mingdao Assembly in Yique City once said that the three teachings should return to oneness, and the mortal and the sage should follow the same path. This path is to save the world and bring peace to the people, to protect all living beings. Now everyone says that the Dharma-ending Age has arrived, not because of the decline of the teachings, but because of the decline of people's hearts; not because of the decline of the Dharma-based methods, but because of the decline of our cultivation. If the three teachings can abandon their sectarianism, relinquish their attachment to power and wealth, rediscover their true nature, and work together to save all living beings, why should we worry about the Great Dao not flourishing or the world not being at peace?"

As soon as the words were spoken, the square fell silent for a moment. Then, someone started clapping, and the applause gradually grew from a few scattered notes to a thunderous roar. The onlookers wept and bowed deeply to Su Qingxuan. Those from the three religions who held righteous beliefs showed remorse and bowed to Su Qingxuan. Even the great Confucian scholar, the Taoist priest, and the young monk had to lower their heads and bow slightly to the young man, acknowledging the truth in his words.

Beneath an ancient locust tree on the west side of the square stood three elderly men: one dressed in a Confucian robe, holding a scroll, a retired scholar from the Imperial Academy, who had dedicated his life to upholding the orthodox Confucian path; another draped in a hempen Taoist robe, carrying a gourd, a former abbot of Qingxu Temple, who had secluded himself for decades in cultivation; and a third, wearing a faded kasaya, holding a bamboo staff, the retired abbot of Dajue Temple, a former fellow disciple of the Venerable Chengkong. The three exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with satisfaction, nodded slightly, and then turned and disappeared into the crowd, unnoticed by anyone—these three reclusive guardians of the three religions had been observing Su Qingxuan for some time. Today, seeing his eloquent words, which awakened the people of the three religions, they knew that he was a destined person born to face the calamity and to unite the three religions. They were only waiting for the right opportunity to lend a helping hand.

Su Qingxuan was not complacent because of the praise he received. He knew that his words today could only temporarily quell the disputes, but could not eradicate the hidden dangers of the three religions, much less change the current situation in Luoyang: court infighting, corruption among the powerful, the dependence of the three religions, and the suffering of the people—all of this was like an invisible net, shrouding Luoyang and the Great Xia Dynasty. And he was secretly harboring another plan.

He bent down to help up the refugees in the corner of the square, gently comforting them. He then took out all the remaining silver he had left at the inn and entrusted it to an honest teahouse owner in the square, asking him to buy dry food and porridge for the refugees. After doing all this, he turned and left without leaving his name, disappearing like a wisp of wind into the dust of Luoyang.

That night, Su Qingxuan stood by the window of the inn, gazing at the lights of the people of Luoyang, and also at the most prosperous parts of the city. In the streets and alleys, the lights were sparse, and the refugees huddled in corners, suffering from hunger and cold—the hardship and toil of the common people; in the palaces, the lights were bright, and the sounds of string and wind instruments could be faintly heard—the extravagant enjoyment of the royal family and nobles; in the temples and monasteries of the three religions, the incense was burning brightly, and believers knelt in worship, unaware that those they were supporting were practitioners who had lost their original hearts.

The three treasures in his arms remained warm: the benevolent principles of the Confucian classics, the upright spirit of the ancient bronze seal, and the compassionate vitality of the ancient withered tree. They flowed slowly within his dantian, coalescing into an unwavering Daoist heart. He also understood that the refinement of the heart in the mortal world was not about the tranquility of a solitary figure in the deep mountains, but about the responsibility of ordinary people; the unification of the three teachings was not about the fusion of empty philosophical discussions, but about the practicality and original intention of helping the world and bringing peace to the people.

Beneath the misty haze of Luoyang, hidden worries lurked; beneath the surface of the conflict between the three religions, the decline of the Dharma was gradually becoming apparent. Yet, Su Qingxuan harbored a new plan—he would use his current status as a dignified seven-foot-tall man to enter the imperial court, guide the three religions back to the right path, save the common people from suffering, and avert the collapse of the great empire.

That night, undercurrents surged in Luoyang. In the prefectural office of Zhao Lian, secret letters were sent overnight to the prime minister, the emperor's brother-in-law, and the vassal king, stating that the commoner youth Su Qingxuan had disrupted the Xiude Square and might have touched upon related interests; among the three religions, those with righteous hearts began to secretly connect, wanting to regain their original intention of helping the world.

All that is unknown lies hidden beneath the mists and clouds; all opportunities are concealed within the mortal world. The signs of the Dharma-ending Age have already begun to appear in the Great Xia Dynasty, and Su Qingxuan's path to saving the world has only just begun.

It is:

The noise and clamor of the world obscure the true path, yet the will remains unbroken even in this degenerate age.

We await guidance to lead the three religions back to the right path, and together help the common people avert the impending doom.