Sitting high on a lotus platform, speaking of compassion, when have I ever bowed my head to see the common people?

"I, this humble monk, wish to see whose dojo this is, to be so boundlessly arrogant?"

As Golden Cicada stepped through the temple gate, an instant later, a scene like a fairyland slowly unfolded.

Distant mountains were verdant, shrouded in mist.

Below the mountains, buildings were low and ancient.

Birds flew in flocks, beasts marched in formation.

Clouds and mist were like silk, the sky's light like a wash.

The scene was tranquil yet held profound mystery!

Each scene and object, each tree and wood, all secretly contained the Heavenly Dao, naturally formed.

And up close, an ancient willow tree, reaching through heaven and earth, stood prominently. Its branches and leaves all drooped towards the southeast, as if pointing, or perhaps in worship.

That's right!

The Great Dao rises from the southeast!

Golden Cicada's gaze sharpened. He saw, in the southeast direction, a Daoist standing there.

The Daoist stood still amidst the rosy clouds, his robes simple, with no fluctuation of aura, like a stone, a tree, integrated with heaven and earth.

If one didn't deliberately look, they would almost not notice his existence.

But precisely because he was so unremarkable, he appeared even more terrifying!

In this world, all profound mysteries seemed to center around him.

This Daoist seemed to be the answer to all the mysteries of heaven and earth, the ultimate answer of all things.

There is great beauty in the world!

The ultimate should be like this!

The Daoist stood before a desk, holding a jet-black brush, slowly painting on plain white Xuan paper.

With every stroke, spiritual energy surged out like a wild horse, transforming into mountains and rivers, birds and beasts, water birds and fish, all with complete forms, lifelike.

And when the final stroke landed, the myriad things on the paper seemed to gain a soul, leaping from the paper's surface, transforming into real living beings, soaring freely in this world.

Golden Cicada held his breath, observing those living creatures closely!

Not illusions!

Not sorcery!

Nor puppets controlled by strings!

Nor imitations!

"Hiss!!! One Thought, All Things Born!"

"This kind of ability, reaching through heaven and earth, transforming the rotten into the wondrous, surely only a Saint could possess such skill?"

Golden Cicada was stunned, exclaiming in shock:

"Create Something from Nothing, Mold Earth to Create Humans, this is… the divine ability of the legendary Nuwa!"

But the next moment, he shook his head:

"No! Nuwa needed the Three Lights Divine Water and Nine Heavens Breathing Soil to create humans. That Daoist, however, only used a brush and paper, and with a single thought, created all things. This skill already far surpasses that of Nuwa!"

Witnessing such a divine miracle, Golden Cicada was greatly awestruck, muttering to himself:

"Amitabha, my master Tathagata, before this person, probably wouldn't even qualify to hold his chamber pot!"

Only after the Daoist put down his brush did Golden Cicada step forward to pay his respects, extremely solemnly:

"This humble monk greets the Saint."

Zhou Xuan slightly turned his body, looking over, his gaze as calm as water, yet as if it could see through all eternal mysteries in an instant:

"You, Golden Cicada, having already attained enlightenment and taken form, why are you not at Spirit Mountain listening to that child Tathagata lecture, and instead came to my dojo?"

Golden Cicada's heart trembled. This person before him, with a single sentence, revealed his identity and origin!

The methods of a Saint are truly unfathomable!!!

"This humble monk did not intend to disturb you. I was enveloped by a ball of golden light, lost within it, and thus found this place," Golden Cicada said, not daring to conceal anything, recounting it truthfully.

Zhou Xuan nodded slightly and said:

"This is the Lingxuan Dao Field, I am Daoist Lingxuan!"

"Your arrival here means you have fate with me!"

"Are you willing to take me as your master?"

Golden Cicada's heart rejoiced upon hearing this.

To become a disciple of a Saint was an unparalleled fortune, rare and unattainable!

But after the joy, a chill spread through his heart!

He was Tathagata's direct disciple, the second one!

Having sworn an oath to enter Buddhism and make great vows, how could he easily change his allegiance?

He lowered his head in thought, finding it difficult to respond.

Zhou Xuan, as if he had already seen through his hesitation, asked calmly:

"When you first entered Buddhism, what was your desire?"

Golden Cicada was silent for a moment before replying, "What this disciple sought was to propagate Buddhist teachings and save all living beings."

Zhou Xuan asked again, "Then do you believe that Buddhist Dharma can truly save all living beings?"

"Have the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas of the Western Paradise ever bowed their heads to ask if sentient beings wished to be saved?"

"If sentient beings have no such desire, do you then know what they truly want?"

The three questions struck like thunderbolts, and Golden Cicada's mind roared!

He stood stunned on the spot, muttering to himself:

"Can Buddhist Dharma... truly save all living beings?"

"Do sentient beings truly need to be saved?"

"Have we... ever asked what sentient beings truly want?"

Golden Cicada thought of the Green Lion and Qiu Shou Xian, whose genitals had been removed.

He thought of the million people in Shituo Kingdom living in peace and contentment, only to be reduced to a living hell!

Once, he had devoutly believed that all beings suffered, that Buddhist Dharma was merciful and could save the world!

But at this moment, his Buddhist heart shattered, his hopes dashed, yet still unwilling to give up, he argued aloud:

"Buddhism is destined by heaven. When the Great Tribulation of Journey to the West ends, it will be the day of Buddhism's great prosperity, and salvation will naturally follow!"

Zhou Xuan sneered, "Golden Cicada, stop deceiving yourself!"

"Is the great prosperity of Buddhism for the sake of the common people, or for your own destiny? Do you dare to ask yourself?"

"The Buddhas of the West, seated on lotus thrones, high above, viewing the common people as mere ants, are they saving sentient beings, or are they seeking merit and destiny?"

"Know this, whether rising or falling, the common people suffer. How many stories of rise and fall throughout history, the common people have always faced the greatest hardship."

"The so-called Buddhism Spreads East and the great prosperity of Buddhism are nothing more than a carnival for those who have already benefited!"

"It cannot save the common people, let alone all sentient beings!"

Golden Cicada's lips trembled as he listened. His heart had already wavered, but emotionally, he clung to a final shred of hope—he had cultivated for ten thousand years, the foundation of his faith, his Tathagata... could he truly be wrong?

Zhou Xuan said no more, then slowly spoke:

"Although Buddhism is prosperous, sentient beings still suffer. If you truly care for the common people of the world, you should know that Buddhist Dharma cannot resolve worldly suffering, nor can it save all sentient beings!"

"Golden Cicada, are you willing to cultivate with me? To become my direct disciple?"

This sentence struck like a hammer, shattering the mist that had accumulated in Golden Cicada's heart for thousands of years.

He was drenched in sweat, his body soaked, and finally, he knelt and bowed:

"If Buddhist Dharma cannot aid the world, this disciple is willing to abandon his past ties and cultivate under the Saint."

"Very good."

Zhou Xuan smiled and nodded, picked up a brush, and wrote a line of text. Once the ink dried, he handed the paper to Golden Cicada:

"Go, the answer lies within. When your worldly Buddhist heart is gone, I will take you on as my disciple."

Though filled with doubt, Golden Cicada solemnly accepted, bowed deeply, and turned to leave.

Zhou Xuan stood in the hall, watching his receding figure, a slight smile on his lips, and whispered:

"This Journey to the West is truly becoming more and more interesting!"

A study room on Spirit Mountain.

A piece of Xuan paper, still fragrant with ink, lay on a desk.

The paper contained only four lines of poetry, seemingly ordinary, yet heavy as a thousand pounds:

"High on a lotus throne, speaking of compassion, when have you ever bowed to see the common people?"

"Ten lifetimes of reincarnation, experiencing a hundred sufferings, only then to know the Journey to the West was all in vain!"

Golden Cicada repeatedly read the lines, unable to let go for a long time.

He vaguely felt that these short twenty-eight characters had pointed him towards a path, surpassing the thousands of Buddhist scriptures he had studied for ten thousand years!

After a long while, he sighed, a hint of determination flashing in his eyes!