The Sweeper Monk was a master of medicine. He understood its principles so deeply that he could see the cause behind the symptoms, and his skill was great enough to bring Murong Bo and Xiao Yuanshan back from the dead.
"Thank you, holy monk, for saving our lives."
"You have just gone from life to death and back again. Is there still anything you cannot let go of?"
Xiao Yuanshan and Murong Bo looked lost. Everything seemed less important to them now. Hatred and grand ambitions had been illusions all along. Like flowers and dust, they would vanish. Why cling to them?
The bodhi tree was no tree, nor was the bright mirror a stand. There had never been a thing; where could dust alight?
People brought all the troubles of the world upon themselves. If they cared about nothing, would they still suffer and grieve?
Awakening as if from a long dream, they wondered whether anything they did—or failed to do—in this world mattered at all.
The Sweeper Monk took them on as disciples.
Just then, Abbot Xuanci and several other masters arrived at the doorway.
"So our temple has had an enlightened monk in its midst all along. This humble monk failed to realize it. Master, you have dispelled their violent impulses with supreme Buddhist teachings, an act of immeasurable merit. In that case, their grudges with our temple are settled."
At that moment, Duan Yu came flying toward them from the distance—knocked through the air by a blow.
"Hmph!"
Wu Xuantian gave a cold snort. He caught Duan Yu with a gentle force from his right hand and struck toward the distance with his left.
Boom...
"Ugh..."
Jiumozhi slammed into a tree so hard that the trunk snapped.
"Benefactor, your mastery of martial arts grows ever more