Once the doubts of the Demon Gods had all been resolved, Shakyamuni looked around at those seated before him. The corners of his lips lifted slightly, his voice calm yet resolute:
"This Dharma assembly is drawing to a close. Those fated with me shall be accepted as my disciples. Three hundred and sixty-five of you shall be appointed as Wisdom Dharma Vajras, Bodhisattvas, Arhats, bhikshus, Kalans, Three Thousand Jiedis, upasakas, upasikas, and other such ranks. Are you willing to enter under my gate?"
When the Demon Gods heard this, they were beside themselves with joy and answered in unison, "We are willing to follow Teacher in cultivation. We beg you to accept us!"
Their voices were like Nine Heavens Thunderclaps shattering seas and mountains, making the void hum and the stars tremble. Yet Shakyamuni merely smiled faintly. "Among you, only a small number are fated with me. If I forcibly accept you all, it would instead damage the foundations of this great teaching. To seek forcefully before one's blessings have arrived will, in the end, turn good fruit into the seed of disaster."
Hearing this, the Demon Gods' hearts tightened, and each fell silent. They knew that their destined fortune had yet to arrive, that opportunity could not be seized by force. No one argued or clamored again; they simply stood where they were, their gazes all fixed upon Shakyamuni.
Suddenly, he flicked his finger. A thread of golden light broke through the air, trailing behind it like a dragon before vanishing into the chaotic void. Then came a muffled bang, and a tiny fissure split open in the high heavens. In an instant, spiritual rain came pouring down!
Crash, crash, crash—
Before the rain even fell, the golden radiance had already arrived. Countless golden needle-like beams burst from the