The Shadow and the Bell

The wheelchair was not large, yet the Abbey Dean sitting inside looked very spacious, for he was currently extremely thin and frail. Even wrapped in a blanket, he did not occupy much space, just as no matter how great a person was in life, they only needed a small box to contain them after death. Of course, we cannot use this point to deny the greatness of that person while they were alive.

He quietly gazed at the grey sky, which was reflected in his eyes with a hint of gloom, no longer possessing the high spirits he had when entering Chang'an City. He was now like a candle in the wind, experiencing the final years of his life.

If one did not consider matters of good and evil, morality, or the future of humanity, the Abbey Dean was undoubtedly a great man. Even after becoming a cripple, the things he did in his final years were still monumental. To draw even Haotian into his calculations, who dared say that was not great?

Long Qing, standing nearby, replied in a low voice. After a long silence, he could not help but ask, "What if?"

The Abbey Dean said, "There is no what-if."

He was the most outstanding figure of the Dao Sect in a thousand years, and the most devout believer of Haotian. Even when he was plotting against Haotian, it remained so; he never doubted Haotian's omnipotence.

"No one can kill Haotian. Fuzi could not, and the Buddha naturally cannot either."

Long Qing looked at the grey sky and said, "But the Buddha has drawn Haotian into that chessboard."

The Abbey Dean said, "Inside that chessboard is the Buddha's Land of Ultimate Bliss. Although I saw the Buddha attain Nirvana, I know what Nirvana is, and I know what he wants to do, but it is all in vain."

Long Qing said, "Your disciple does not understand."

The Abbey Dean said, "Haotian is omniscient and omnipotent. Even when she thinks she does not know, she still knows. Heavenly calculations cannot account for the heavenly heart. Her heavenly heart fell right into the center of that chessboard; she wanted to go there herself. Otherwise, why would she search for the Buddha's traces in the mortal world?"

Long Qing asked, "Why must Haotian search for that chessboard?"

The Abbey Dean said, "Because that chessboard can allow her to return to the Divine Kingdom."

Long Qing said, "Your disciple still does not understand."

The Abbey Dean said, "Let alone you, even she herself does not understand."

Long Qing's brow furrowed slightly as he said, "But Master understands."

"Because Haotian once granted me a revelation."

The Abbey Dean pointed toward the gloomy sky and said, "It is not that the Dao Sect wishes to plot against Haotian, much less that I want to use the Buddha's setup to kill Haotian. It is Haotian herself who wishes to return."

Long Qing fell silent for a long time. He understood the Abbey Dean's meaning. Even if the Buddha killed Haotian within the chessboard, it would only represent helping Haotian restore herself to the purest rules to return to the Divine Kingdom. Only... was this truly her own thought? Or was it the thought of Haotian in the Divine Kingdom? What was the relationship between her and the Haotian in the Divine Kingdom, and who was the real Haotian?

"Both are Haotian," the Abbey Dean said.

"If the Buddha truly suppresses Haotian within the chessboard forever, or even occupies it, neither killing her nor letting her out, how will she return to the Divine Kingdom?"

Long Qing said, "The Chief Preacher said a year ago that there is only Buddhist affinity, no heavenly will."

Hearing his words, the Abbey Dean could not help but laugh. He laughed very happily, with an innocent joy, like a child secretly opening a gift in a treehouse, even shedding tears.

"Except for Haotian herself... what is there that can be called eternal? She will either die inside, thereby returning to her position as rules to go back to the Divine Kingdom, or she will survive and come out, which still means returning to the Divine Kingdom."

The Abbey Dean took the handkerchief Long Qing handed over, wiped the tears from his face, and smiled. "Who can imprison the sky? How can the sky be imprisoned? Even if one can escape heavenly calculations, how can one escape the heavenly heart? Even if you escape this sky, how can you escape that sky? Even Haotian cannot escape her own mind, let alone some Fuzi or that trash of a Buddha. Truly ridiculous."

Long Qing still did not understand. If Haotian died in the chessboard, she could turn into rules and return to the Divine Kingdom, but why was the Abbey Dean so certain that even if she survived and came out, she would still return to the Divine Kingdom?

The Abbey Dean felt a chill and raised his withered right hand. The middle-aged Taoist standing behind the wheelchair, who had remained silent, now pushed the wheelchair into the stone house. The Abbey Dean left Long Qing with a final instruction, then closed his eyes wearily to rest his mind.

"Tell Xiong Shumo to begin preparations."

...

...

Morning bells and evening drums, spring flowers and autumn fruits, pickled vegetables and white rice, black crows and small streams, Buddhist scriptures and the sky, the lake and the white pagoda—time and space seemed to flow, yet also seemed to stand still.

Ning Que had finished reading hundreds of Buddhist scriptures and had begun reading the records left by eminent monks of past generations. Cultivating quietly to the sound of the bells, his Buddhist dharma gradually deepened, and his mind naturally became as tranquil as a deep well, without a single ripple.

Sangsang was still watching the sky, sometimes in the small courtyard, sometimes by the lakeshore, sometimes watching the chaotic sky in the stream, and sometimes watching the silent sky in the lake. No matter how she watched, she never grew tired of it.

One morning, after making breakfast, Ning Que walked to the White Pagoda Temple. As usual, he chatted briefly with the simple-minded monk named Qing Ben, then went into the Zen room alone to read scriptures.

Seeing a wondrous point in the Buddhist scriptures, a sense of peaceful joy arose in him, and he felt his Zen heart become thoroughly transparent. Hearing the chime of the bell drifting from the distant hall, he felt as if he could forget all worries and sorrows.

Suddenly, he saw a shadow appear on the wall, cast by the candlelight shining on him. The shadow was sitting cross-legged, seemingly in cultivation. He then realized it had grown dark outside; it was already late at night. He sighed inwardly, thinking that the Buddhist dharma was indeed profound; reading scriptures could make one forget the passage of time, naturally allowing one to forget worries and hardships.

Sangsang had not accompanied him to the White Pagoda Temple today. Thinking of her waiting at home for him to make dinner, Ning Que packed up the scriptures on the table, blew out the candle, and prepared to leave.

Just as he stepped over the threshold, he suddenly pulled his foot back. He stood within the doorway, silent for a long time, as sweat gradually broke out on his forehead. He wanted to turn his head, but dared not. A powerful feeling welled up in his heart that if he turned back, something terrifying would happen, and his peaceful life would be gone forever. He struggled for a long while, but ultimately turned around. For curiosity was the emotion most capable of conquering fear in humans.

Ning Que saw the shadow on the wall again. He was not sitting at the table reading; the candle on the table had been extinguished, and the stars above the temple were obscured by clouds, leaving the room in pitch darkness. Yet... the shadow was still there. This was not his shadow, so whose shadow was it?

Ning Que stared at the shadow, remaining silent for a long time before walking toward the wall. His steps were heavy, and his expression was solemn. Reaching the wall, he observed it quietly for a long time and even reached out to touch it, only to find nothing unusual about the shadow. It was pure darkness, visible but untouchable.

A shadow in the shade is the shadow of a tree; a shadow in the sun is the shadow of the sun; darkness is the shadow of a mountain. Whose shadow was this? How could a shadow exist independently in this world? Ning Que thought for a moment, then sat cross-legged before this shadow.

Only when he sat down did he realize this was indeed his own shadow, for it was identical to him. Earlier, when he sat at the table reading, he had seen the shadow sitting cross-legged as if cultivating Buddhism, but had not paid attention. He suddenly remembered that deep within the cliff caves of the Xuankong Temple, he had once seen a shadow. That was the shadow of Grandmaster Lian Sheng. Could it be that his Buddhist cultivation had reached completion, and he had attained the realm of Lian Sheng from back then?

Ning Que felt a touch of pleasant surprise. In his sea of consciousness, he sat on a lotus flower and formed the great hand seal, beginning to cultivate Buddhism. He was somewhat worried that the shadow would gradually fade, so he wanted to reinforce it. In an instant, he entered the Zen state of forgetting both self and the external world.

However, what shocked him was that the shadow on the wall suddenly began to struggle! The shadow was no longer sitting cross-legged but stood up on the wall, raising both hands above its head as if trying to support an incredibly heavy object. No, this shadow seemed to want to tear open the very sky!

This sky was far too heavy. The shadow did not succeed and began to clutch its head, twisting its body continuously into all sorts of bizarre shapes, looking extremely pained. The shadow continued to struggle, just like a black flame burning relentlessly on the white wall, stretching out tongues of fire like a bizarre dance, as if wanting to make the entire world dance along with it!

Ning Que stared blankly at the painfully struggling shadow, unable to comprehend why he could feel the other's pain. What chilled him even more was that from the shadow's struggle, he sensed a profound sense of unwillingness and rage. That unwillingness and rage were so desperate that they could make the entire world weep. A wave of intense bitterness rushed straight to his brow, and Ning Que began to cry.

Right at this moment, the tolling of a bell echoed within the White Pagoda Temple. The evening service should have ended long ago, so why was the bell tolling? The sound of the bell was so clear and ethereal; it could cleanse the mind and steady the soul. Hearing the bell, Ning Que gradually calmed down.

The shadow on the wall also calmed down accordingly. But in the next instant, the shadow struggled once more, and because of the bell toll, it became even more frenzied and violent!

Boom! A massive explosion resounded, not from the temple's bell, but within Ning Que's head. He felt as if someone in his mind was holding a colossal, sharp axe, hacking ruthlessly down upon his skull!

An indescribable wave of extreme agony spread from the top of his head throughout his entire body. His face turned deathly pale, his lips trembled, and he was in too much pain to utter a word! The bell in the temple fell silent, leaving a blanket of quiet. Yet the tolling in Ning Que's head continued, and that colossal axe kept hacking at his skull, as if trying to split his head in two, causing him to clutch his head and roll frantically on the ground!

What was happening? Due to the excruciating pain, his clothes were drenched in sweat, and his consciousness grew hazy. He did not notice that deep within his sea of consciousness, several fragments of consciousness had become exceptionally bright, as if about to explode.

His only remaining shred of consciousness was to find the axe-wielding figure in his head. He had to kill that person; he had to escape this horrific pain! He crawled with great difficulty to the wall, looked at the frantically struggling shadow, drew his iron blade, and slashed down with all his might. He knew all of this was definitely related to this shadow, and he had to slash it to death!

The iron blade struck the wall, sending dust and debris flying, yet the shadow remained, still right before his eyes. Right at this moment, from the extremely high sky above the night temple, another bell suddenly tolled. This toll fell into the Zen room, onto his body, and into his heart. This toll was yet another colossal axe. Someone was hacking wildly with an axe inside his head. Someone was hacking wildly with an axe in the sky. He curled up in the corner of the wall, his face pale, his eyes unfocused and pained, looking as though he might die at any moment.