Journey to the West: Starting with the True Lord of the Pure Land

Chapter 430 Immortals Travel to the Mortal Realm, Saving People Based on Fate

Above the azure sky, a gentle breeze caresses the face, and the sea of ​​clouds surges like cotton wool.

Chen Jiao stood with his hands behind his back in the void, his robes fluttering, his eyes lowered as he looked down at the city walls of the human world, observing silently.

The old Taoist's method of extracting people's luck and refining their destiny was insidious and cruel, seemingly belonging to the heretical practice of using external remedies for malevolent influence.

However, one can still see that his body is still filled with pure energy. Although he is also entangled in karmic and malevolent energy, he is not a person who is extremely wicked or has committed countless murders.

Therefore, Chen Jiao merely observed from the sidelines without interfering.

As he pondered the three tests, the Azure Emperor's gentle voice quietly reached his ears and entered his mind: "I give you three things, young friend, not to compete in magic, not to debate metaphysics, but to guide you."

Chen Jiao's expression turned solemn, and he listened intently.

"There was a thief in the city whose ancestors had been thieves for three generations, making a living by climbing beams. He was clever, but his mind was trapped in a shackle; he considered stealing his skill and could not see the right path."

"There was a villain, originally a veteran soldier who was discharged due to injury and lameness. Now he mingles in the streets, colluding with both the wicked and the guilty, acting as an accomplice to evil, extorting money and murdering people. His evil deeds have reached their limit."

There was once a scholar, who possessed great talent, but his family had fallen on hard times, and the prostitute he trusted had swindled him out of his remaining wealth. Disheartened and disillusioned, his ambitions were extinguished, and now he sells his calligraphy and paintings, living a life of poverty.

The Azure Emperor paused for a moment, then said, "How to act and how to enlighten are entirely up to one's own heart; there is no fixed method. Young friend, you may ponder it yourself."

After speaking, the voice vanished like smoke, never to be heard again.

After listening to the Azure Emperor's words, Chen Jiao's mind raced, pondering their deeper meaning:

With his clear understanding of the Dao, he only needed to ponder for a moment to vaguely perceive the key to it.

Thieves make a living by stealing, and are not ashamed of it, but rather think it is a skill; this is called "greed".

A bully who acts violently and amasses wealth, runs rampant in the city, and is tyrannical and willful, is called "anger";

A scholar, troubled by his emotions, becomes obsessed with the past and cannot extricate himself; this is called "foolishness".

Greed for theft and possession, anger for violence and resentment, and delusion for stubbornness and ignorance.

Greed, anger, and ignorance are called the three poisons in Buddhism, and are also regarded as demons that obstruct the path, obscuring the original mind and causing people to lose their true nature.

These three things are the outward manifestation of guiding people, and the true meaning lies in seeing through the three poisons and verifying one's original heart.

Once Chen Jiao understood this, his mind cleared, and his gaze fell, piercing through layers of clouds and buildings, like a hawk swooping down to lock onto the city.

The thin young man from before was now in the shadows of a deep alley.

He glanced around and, seeing no one was there, raised his hand and wiped his face, magically changing his appearance.

He then swaggered into a bustling restaurant, completely at ease, a stark contrast to his drunken state in the street just moments before.

"greedy----"

Chen Jiao murmured to himself, a slight smile playing on his lips, already having made his decision.

He lingered no longer, his figure fading quietly into the azure sky, like ink falling into a clear pool, concealing his celestial aura, and returning to the mortal streets and alleys.

The restaurant was bustling with noise and chatter.

The sounds of clinking cups, drinking games, and storytellers slapping their hands on the table filled the air, creating a deafening cacophony.

The waiters moved back and forth, with a handkerchief draped over their shoulders and a food tray in their hands, their steps brisk and their mouths constantly calling out.

The thin young man strode in, his gaze sweeping over the diners, and loudly proclaimed, "Waiter, bring me five roast chickens, the usual!"

The waiter behind the counter looked up and saw him. His face lit up with a familiar smile, and he hurriedly replied, "Yes, sir! The usual, wrapped in lotus leaves and tied tightly with hemp rope? Would you like some more wine and dishes?"

The braised beef arrived today; it's been braised all night, and it tastes just right!

The young man simply waved his hand, took out a few loose silver coins from his pocket and placed them on the counter, his voice lowered slightly: "No need, just roast chicken. Hurry up, don't be late."

The waiter quickly collected the money, called out to the kitchen, then turned back and said with a smile, "Please have a seat, sir, it'll be ready soon!"

The young man didn't sit down, but leaned against the counter, one foot resting on the table leg. His gaze seemed to casually sweep over the street scene outside, then slowly wandered through the bustling shop, his fingers tapping lightly on the counter.

Before long, the kitchen staff came out carrying five large bags of things that were tightly wrapped in fresh lotus leaves and neatly tied with hemp rope.

Even before getting close, the aroma of oil mixed with the fresh scent of lotus leaves is enough to make one's mouth water.

These are five plump, freshly roasted chickens.

"Sir, your roast chicken is still hot!" The waiter handed over the oil paper package and added solicitously, "I specially picked out one that was evenly shaped and plump."

The young man took it, weighed it in his hand, and a slight smile appeared on his lips, a hint of tenderness in his eyes.

Without saying another word, he turned and left the restaurant, his hurried steps disappearing into the crowd on the long street.

Chen Jiao remained hidden in the shadows, unnoticed by others.

He walked with his hands behind his back, unhurried and unhurried, like a shadow following him, quietly observing his movements.

The young man left the restaurant, but instead of heading to the dark alleys or gambling dens, or seeking out brothels and theaters, he wandered through the streets and alleys, choosing a secluded path and heading straight for a quiet place in the west of the city.

The cold autumn wind was biting, making the bare trees along the street rustle and the fallen leaves flutter.

The steam from the five packets of roast chicken in the young man's arms condensed into wisps of white smoke in the cold wind, lingering all the way.

When he reached a street corner, he bought dozens of freshly steamed white steamed buns from a roadside stall, wrapped them in a cloth, carried them on his shoulder, and then walked away.

After passing through several increasingly quiet streets and alleys, the houses on both sides became lower and dilapidated, with peeling paint and overgrown weeds.

Finally, we arrived at a dilapidated earth temple with few incense sticks burning and mottled walls.

The temple had fallen into disrepair over the years, and the paint on the plaque above the door had long since peeled off, leaving only a bare wooden board hanging there.

The two wooden doors were ajar, and when pushed, they creaked loudly. The interior was dimly lit and smelled musty.

The young man glanced around and, seeing no one was there, vanished into the doorway as silently as a cat, without making a sound.

Inside the dilapidated temple, the light was dim, and spider webs hung from the beams.

The statue of the Earth God was blurry and looked quite desolate.

As the young man stepped in, he exhaled a breath of white air that turned into frost and mist.

Then a rustling sound was heard, and then seven or eight small heads peeked out from behind the statue and under the altar. They were all dressed in rags, mostly young children, the oldest being no more than ten years old.

Upon seeing him, the fear in the children's eyes vanished, replaced by a bright light, yet they hesitated to approach.

"What are you little monkeys doing, cowering around like that?"

The young man chuckled and cursed, then placed the lotus leaf package and the steamed bun bag he was holding on the relatively clean offering table.

"Come over here quickly, while it's hot."

The children cheered and rushed forward.

The young man first tore off two plump chicken legs and handed them to the thinnest little girl who was coughing incessantly.

Then, the remaining chicken was carefully shredded into small pieces, and together with the steamed buns, it was divided into several portions using washed broad leaves and handed to each child.

Then the young man crossed his arms and leaned against the door, watching them share the food. The greasy, playful smile on his face faded, leaving only a quiet gentleness.

"Eat slowly, no one is going to take it from you."

His voice was soft, yet clear in the empty, dilapidated temple.

"Sixth Brother, did you strike it rich again today?" a slightly older boy asked vaguely while munching on a chicken leg.

Upon hearing this, the young man known as "Sixth Brother" twitched the corners of his mouth, revealing a half-smile: "What's the point of making money? Just borrow some from rich gentlemen."

He glanced at the children and suddenly said, "After you've finished eating, draw the words I taught you yesterday on the ground and show them to me. If you get one wrong, the roast chicken tomorrow will be halved."

Upon hearing this, the children immediately burst into wails and started shouting all at once.

"Sixth Brother, all you do is cause us trouble!"

"That's right, that's right, we haven't finished the roast chicken yet!"

"I practiced yesterday! I really did!"

The young man remained unmoved, raising his chin: "Sobing won't help. Let's eat first, one at a time. Li Zhengxing, you go first."

The boy who had been munching on a chicken leg and asking the question suddenly looked distressed.

Chen Jiao concealed himself and stood quietly in the beam of sunlight cast through the broken eaves of the temple, taking in everything.

He looked at the young man standing by the door, half his face hidden in the shadows, the other half illuminated by the sunlight, his features clearly defined.

He saw in the children's eyes a dependence, a purity and innocence, devoid of falsehood.

He looked at the roast chicken and steamed buns on the altar, their steam gradually fading, the oil paper spread out, and crumbs scattered about.

This man is a thief; he steals ill-gotten gains, which is greed.

However, he did not use the stolen goods for himself, but distributed them all to these helpless orphans to keep them alive, taught them rudimentary literacy, restrained them from doing evil, and taught them to understand right and wrong.

Is this greed? Yes, it is greed.

This person has good intentions and a sense of responsibility, but his actions are crooked. He uses evil to nurture goodness, which is like drinking poison to quench thirst and will not last long.

Moreover, if this continues, not only will one's sins deepen, but one's fate and fortune will also be damaged, and one day one will be so deeply mired that it will be difficult to extricate oneself.

Therefore, greed lies not in taking, but in using.

Even if something is used well, if it is obtained improperly, it will still lead astray.

Chen Jiao withdrew his gaze, already having made up his mind.

With a swift turn and a slight movement of his robes, he vanished from the dilapidated temple like a gentle breeze.

The daylight outside was still bright, and the autumn wind rustled, causing the withered grass in front of the temple to bend down and then rise again.

He stood with his hands behind his back in front of the temple, looked up at the plaque with peeling paint, then looked down at the dents on the threshold worn by countless footsteps, and nodded slightly.

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