West City, Taian Temple.
Master Guanghong stood before Ten Thousand Buddha Hall, his gaze calmly looking out into the distance as his fingers turned his prayer beads one by one.
Although building palaces and temples in the bustling city was not conducive to quiet cultivation, incense and fire burned the brightest here. It was not yet noon, but the stream of worshippers at Taian Temple was already endless, and the blue smoke from the incense burners could be seen clearly across several streets, how could suburban temples ever compare to this?
"Master Guanghong."
"Amitabha."
Whenever any familiar worshippers passed by and greeted him, he would lower his head and smile in response, yet his inner heart was not as calm as his surface.
The previous night, he had sent the Yaksha into the city to cause trouble for that meddlesome cultivator, but it never returned, and moreover quietly lost connection with him—the art of the paper Yaksha was certainly not something that could be accomplished by simply taking a piece of paper and drawing a Yaksha's appearance and runes on it. To make the Yaksha come alive and possess spiritual awareness required long-term accumulation, and to enable the Yaksha to transform into a strong physique that swords and spears could hardly destroy required continuous refinement.
Those two pieces of paper were inherently consumables, gone once lost, but losing their embedded spiritual awareness meant everything had to start over from the beginning.
Years of accumulation, and three parts lost by two.
Master Guanghong knew the other party was not simple, but he truly found it hard to be resigned.
Harboring the thought that "perhaps the other party merely happened to see that this was a paper Yaksha, and happened to know that fire should be used to restrain it, thus winning the first round," Master Guanghong had dispatched his own Dream Ghost, which he had supported and nourished for many years, last night to launch a second bout of magic.
Yet unexpectedly, he cast his spell at the third watch, and by the fifth watch the Dream Ghost had yet to return, until dawn was about to break before it belatedly came back.
The other party had actually pasted a talisman on his doorway.
This single talisman alone had caused the Dream Ghost to linger outside the door, anxious and unable to enter, and it was only when dawn approached that it had no choice but to return.
The Dream Ghost often entered people's dreams, capable of creating dreams—either nightmares or sweet dreams—and was one of his major helpers in defrauding incense and fire, and could also take lives within dreams without gods or ghosts knowing. Nourished for many years with the temple's incense and fire, the Dream Ghost's skills and intelligence were unmatched by ordinary spirits and monsters, yet it was blocked by a tiny talisman.
Master Guanghong was instantly struck with terror.
Aside from the Yaksha and the Dream Ghost, he possessed few other abilities, and by now how could he not know that the other party's abilities far surpassed his own.
Filled with panic and unease, he ordered the last paper Yaksha and several paper soldiers and horses to keep watch inside the room, and it was only when he heard the temple bell at dawn that his heart calmed down slightly. When a disciple came to call him to eat, he finally freed himself from his state of terror, and gradually came to his senses.
The other party had just arrived in Yi Capital, how could they know it was his doing?
Yi Capital was so vast, a vast sea of people, so how could they possibly find him? And who would ever dare imagine that the one driving ghosts and harming people at night was actually an eminent monk of Taian Temple?
Unawares, it was already noon.
Master Guanghong turned his head to look, and a young novice monk was striking the bell in the bell tower.
"Dong!"
"Dong!"
The melodious bell rings carried very far.
Song You wore an old robe, stepping up the stone stairs.
The Three Flower Cat followed right behind him, constantly looking left and right.
Worshippers streamed past continuously by his side.
Among them, quite a few wanderers of the pugilistic world could be seen, whether they were used to lodging in temples or had slipped through the city gates yet still lacked travel permits, leaving them with no choice but to seek lodging here.
"Such thriving incense and fire."
As a cultivator hailing from a Taoist temple, and as the successor of a Taoist temple himself, Song You counted as half a peer to the monks here. Seeing so many worshippers right now, his very first thought was to calculate how much incense money they could rake in daily based on Fulong Temple's revenue model.
The head of a household naturally had to manage firewood, rice, oil, and salt.
Cultivators needed to eat too.
"Meow~"
The Three Flower Cat chimed in behind him in agreement, raising its head high at the same time to look at the Buddha statues in the left and right halls, and at the huge tripod cauldrons crammed full of incense.
If it had known beforehand that the destination was someone else's temple, it probably wouldn't have been willing to come. If it had known beforehand that it was coming to such a huge temple, where every single deity looked glittering gold and the incense smoke rose like clouds, it absolutely would never have come.
Now it had no choice but to bite the bullet and walk forward.
"Meow-ah~"
It tried hard to pretend to be an ordinary cat.
Song You couldn't understand what it was saying, but he slowed his pace as well to let it catch up, walking side by side with it, looking around as they walked.
Time to learn some advanced practices from peers.
When it came to expanding followers and absorbing incense and fire, Great Yan's Buddhism delivered a dimensional reduction strike against Taoism.
Great Yan's Taoism emphasized following one's heart and freedom, preferring to live and cultivate in the way they desired; when worshippers arrived, they didn't necessarily pay them any mind, and often didn't take financial benefactors seriously at all.
Compared to Buddhism, they were somewhat aloof.
Great Yan's Buddhism was much more professional in this regard; not only did they possess a stronger drive for proselytizing, but they were also better at catering to the ideas of believers and those in power.
Buddhism's business operations were likewise far broader.
Take Taian Temple for instance—
Aside from incense, lamp oil, selling small trinkets and various consecrated items, warding off evil and curing illnesses, funerals, and naming services, they also provided accommodation, money-lending, and other services. Some large temples owned thousands of mu of farmland, which could be rented out to tenant farmers to generate income, and certain urban temples even functioned as commercial markets where peddlers set up stalls and paid them a cut.
As for Great Yan's Taoist temples...
You had to depend on the abbot's mood just to stay the night.
"Can't compare."
Logically speaking, since this world possessed gods and buddhas filling the skies, Taoism as Great Yan's indigenous religion occupied the advantages of timing and terrain, and the Heavenly Palace oversaw all deities—at least in Great Yan's legends, the Heavenly Palace's Chijin the Great Emperor held the authority to command the Lord of all Buddhas, so it shouldn't have let foreign Buddhism easily gain the upper hand. Yet the reality was that ever since Buddhism entered Great Yan, it had firmly established a foothold purely through powerful operational capability and cohesion, rapidly expanding.
Song You didn't harbor any particular thoughts about this.
He was a fake Taoist to begin with, plus he understood in his heart that gods and ghosts both stemmed from humans, and the two religions of Buddhism and Taoism had no essential difference; there were accomplished masters, secular folks, good people, and evil people in both. It was equally hard to distinguish the IQs of people who praised Buddhism while suppressing Taoism from those who praised Taoism while suppressing Buddhism.
They were all just human beings after all.
Thinking thus, Song You had already strolled around the temple grounds and walked to the central Ten Thousand Buddha Hall.
He stopped at the doorway.
Lifting his gaze, he read the couplets inscribed on either side:
Be a good person, with an upright heart and a peaceful body your soul and dreams stay steady;
Do some kind deeds, heaven knows and earth inspects, and ghosts and gods revere.
Song You smiled and stepped across the threshold into the hall.
The thick, heavy scent of incense rushed toward his face.
He saw the Lord of all Buddhas in the center displaying a solemn and majestic demeanor, the surrounding bodhisattvas either benevolent-eyed or compassionate, while the dharma-protecting deities flanking them glared with stern majesty.
Incense smoke drifted and coiled, resembling clouds and mist.
Quite a few worshippers knelt on straw mats, men and women, young and old alike. Some prayed silently, some chanted aloud, others kowtowed, stood up, and left, while a continuous stream of people entered from outside to kneel upon vacated mats.
Myriad aspirations emitted a radiance hotter than the sun.
Chaotic sounds entered his ears.
There were those begging the bodhisattvas to help cure their family members of severe illnesses, those pleading with the Buddha to bless their business ventures smoothly, those hoping their sons would achieve success, and those unable to have children; desires and entreaties rang in his ears.
"Sigh..."
Before the Buddha there is never a shortage of three sticks of incense, yet throughout a lifetime mortals harbor countless sorrows.
Having finished sighing, Song You swept his gaze left and right, yet failed to spot any monks here.
Checking the time, it was already mealtime.
He stepped forward to offer three sticks of incense as well, and when he turned back to look at the Three Flower Cat, he saw it hiding outside the threshold of the main hall. The threshold was taller than it was, and its two front paws clutched the sill—it was mostly standing up so that it could poke its small head out from above the threshold, watching him with eager anticipation.
Song You smiled and walked back out.
"Let's go."
"Where to?"
"Five Views Hall."
"What is that?"
"A place to eat."
"Are you going to eat?"
"That too."
Thinking of this, Song You paused abruptly, dropping a few copper coins into the merit box. This settled the matter; he would eat a midday meal here: "I've heard the vegetarian food at Taian Temple is quite famous. I wonder if they'll let you in."
"Oh..."
Three Flower Lady had previously been quite shaken by the top-tier peerless heavyweight, and she still hadn't recovered her wits, instinctively not daring to act presumptuously in this place, remaining timid and submissive.
Fortunately, the novice monk at Five Views Hall did not stop her.
It was bustling inside, filled to the brim with devout men and women, alongside quite a few monks eating their meals. The monks and worshippers at Taian Temple ate together, though most of the monks sat with monks and worshippers sat with worshippers, only intermingling when seats ran out entirely.
Song You swept his gaze around with an indifferent expression, then walked toward one of the rare vacant spots.
"Master, may I sit here?"
Master Guanghong instinctively glanced at Song You—
He held a lofty status in Taian Temple, as well as in the hearts of the worshippers. Even though the monks and worshippers of Taian Temple ate together, out of respect most worshippers would not share a table with him, and usually only esteemed guests had the courage to come over or receive his proactive invitation.
This person didn't look like an esteemed guest.
But seeing that the man was a stranger, and noticing that Five Views Hall was practically full, he more or less guessed the situation.
Regardless, he certainly wouldn't refuse him.
"Please go ahead, benefactor."
"Thank you."
Song You smiled and sat down, dining at the same table as Master Guanghong, two other monks, and three distinguished guests.
There weren't any fancy dishes; paired with pickled radishes, fermented bean curd, and two small dishes of greens, he drank a bowl of vegetable congee. Feeling that it lacked any special flavor, he roughly understood in his heart that the vegetarian food here being famous was likely due to its friendliness toward the lower classes and long-term distribution of porridge.
Meanwhile, the people at the table finished eating one after another, cupped their fists in farewell, and left the table, though Master Guanghong had something on his mind and ate a bit slower.
As he ate, he suddenly heard someone address him.
"Master Guanghong."
Master Guanghong looked up and saw that it was the young worshipper who had arrived last, looking at him with a calm expression.
At some point, a cat had taken a seat beside him.
"Amitabha."
Master Guanghong temporarily set aside the worries in his heart, placed his chopsticks horizontally across his bowl, pressed his palms together in a bow, and spoke in a gentle voice:
"Does the benefactor recognize this poor monk?"
"I do."
Seeing that worshipper reply with a smile, still staring straight at him, he then spoke again: "Yet Master Guanghong doesn't seem to recognize me."
"Oh?"
An ominous premonition suddenly arose in Master Guanghong's heart, and he hastily offered an apology: "This poor monk is forgetful, I wonder what the benefactor's noble name might be..."
"Surname Song, given name You."
"Who?"
Master Guanghong was instantly shocked, his eyes widening round.
The exclamation immediately drew the gazes of quite a few people.
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