Contention for the Cushion

Chapter 40: The Struggle for the Cushions

Hongjun's gaze swept indifferently across the hall, from left to right, from the Three Pure Ones to Jieyin and Zhunti, past Hongyun and Zhen Yuanzi, over Di Jun and Taiyi, before finally settling on empty space again. Throughout the entire process, his face remained expressionless, and he couldn't even be bothered to lift his eyelids.

Yet, among the two to three hundred people in the hall, not a single one dared to breathe too deeply.

Taiyi stood there, his peripheral vision flicking towards the six cushions in front. His gaze lingered for a moment on the fifth cushion—Hongyun was on it, his back ramrod straight, his hands pressed tightly onto his knees, his knuckles white from clenching. A fine sheen of sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down his temples and dampening a small patch of his collar.

Taiyi watched, his heart as clear as a mirror. It was quite amusing how this good-natured fellow ended up in this position. During the first sermon, everyone was clueless about the rules, and Hongyun was inexplicably pushed forward by Zhen Yuanzi to take a seat. During the second sermon, Jieyin and Zhunti had pleaded and cried to him, almost making him give up his seat, but Zhen Yuanzi had firmly held him down.

Therefore, Hongyun was under immense pressure this time.

To his right, Jieyin stood with his palms pressed together, his eyelids drooping, muttering incantations. His sorrowful expression was as if his own mother had just died. Zhunti stood beside him, his eyes already red, his nose twitching, on the verge of tears.

To his left, Zhen Yuanzi stood half a step behind Hongyun, one hand resting on his shoulder with considerable force. The Ancestor of Earth Immortals still wore his usual benevolent smile, but his eyes had darkened, and he was staring coldly at Jieyin and Zhunti.

Time ticked by, little by little.

The hall was terrifyingly silent, broken only by the faint, almost imperceptible hum emanating from the celestial map rotating in the dome above. The sound, faint and elusive, drilled into their ears, unsettling their hearts.

Taiyi counted silently in his mind.

One, two, three...

At seventeen, Zhunti moved.

He first gave a slight twitch of his shoulder, as if trying to hold back tears but failing. Then, a suppressed sob escaped his throat. The sound was not loud, but in the profound silence, it was piercingly clear.

All eyes snapped towards him.

Zhunti's eyes were red, tears welling up. He took half a step forward, then another, stopping three feet before Hongyun's cushion. With a "thump," he knelt down.

His knees struck the white jade floor, emitting a dull thud.

"Dao Ancestor's compassion..." Zhunti began, his voice choked with sobs, trembling violently. "This humble monk... my senior brother and I traveled from the West, crossing mountains and rivers, traversing chaos, enduring countless hardships..."

As he spoke, tears began to fall. Not a loud, wailing cry, but silent tears that traced paths down his cheeks, forming droplets at his chin before splashing onto the ground.

"Our Western land is barren and desolate, with thin spiritual energy, and its inhabitants suffer..." Zhunti said, wiping his tears. His voice was so choked with emotion that he could barely continue. "My senior brother and I have made a grand vow to save all beings in the West and guide them out of their suffering... But, but our own cultivation is shallow, and we can't even secure a seat to listen to the Dao. How can we save others? How can we fulfill our grand vow?"

He grew more sorrowful as he spoke, his tears falling like a broken string of pearls, wetting the small patch of floor in front of him.

Many people in the hall frowned.

Taiyi watched coldly, sneering inwardly. This acting, in his past life, would have been worthy of an award—the tears came on command, the choked sobs were perfectly modulated, any more would seem fake, any less, not tragic enough. Especially those words, "save all beings in the West," spoken with such genuine emotion that anyone who didn't know better would truly believe him to be a compassionate soul devoted to all living things.

But Taiyi knew what these two were like. The Western Sect's mantra of "this object has a predestined affinity with me" was something he had read about countless times in novels in his previous life. Seeing it firsthand today, it truly lived up to its reputation.

He subtly glanced at Hongyun.

Hongyun's usually kind face was now etched with struggle. He looked at Zhunti kneeling on the ground, at the tears streaming down Zhunti's face. His lips moved, wanting to say something but unable to. The hands on his knees loosened and tightened, tightened and loosened, his fingernails digging into his flesh.

Zhen Yuanzi's hand on his shoulder tightened, and he leaned down, whispering something into Hongyun's ear. Hongyun's body trembled, and the struggle on his face intensified.

Zhunti continued his lament.

He spoke of the barrenness of the West, the suffering of its inhabitants; of the grand vows he and his senior brother had made, and how he would have no face to return to the West to see his elders and kin if he couldn't secure a seat today... His speech was flawless, his emotions so full that they could move a stone to tears.

At the height of his emotional appeal, he suddenly kowtowed three times towards Hongjun on the high platform.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

His forehead struck the white jade floor with a dull, resonant sound. When he raised his head, his forehead was already bruised and swollen, faintly oozing blood.

"I beg the Dao Ancestor for mercy... I beg my fellow Daoists for fulfillment..." Zhunti's voice was hoarse, tears mixed with blood from his forehead streaming down, his appearance so pitiful that it was unbearable to look at.

A subtle commotion began to stir in the hall.

Taiyi could hear fragments of divine sense exchanges around him—

"This Zhunti... he's ruthless."

"These two from the Western Sect, they've lost all shame for a seat."

"Hongyun probably can't hold on anymore..."

"Tsk, this is the third time. He didn't yield the last two times, but this time it's uncertain."

Taiyi ignored the extraneous noise. His attention was completely focused on Hongyun, on the Karma Thread connecting him to the second cushion, which was vibrating violently.

The thread was taut, like a bowstring stretched to its limit, ready to snap at any moment. One end was connected to Hongyun, and the other... it should have been connected to the cushion, but now it had faintly split, trembling as it drifted towards Zhunti.

Time passed, little by little.

Zhunti was still crying, his tears almost spent, his voice so hoarse he could barely speak. He knelt there, his back hunched, radiating an aura of despair.

Jieyin then stepped forward and knelt beside Zhunti. He did not cry, but merely pressed his palms together and bowed deeply to Hongyun.

"Fellow Daoist Hongyun..." Jieyin began, his voice low and hoarse. "Everything my junior brother said is true. The West is barren, its inhabitants suffer, and our cultivation is shallow. If we cannot even secure a seat to listen to the Dao, how can we possibly save all beings? You are blessed with profound fortune and a compassionate heart. Could you... could you fulfill this earnest plea of my junior brother and me?"

After speaking, he also kowtowed to Hongyun.

At this, Hongyun could no longer remain seated.

He shot up from his cushion.

The movement was so sudden that it shifted the cushion half an inch.

Zhen Yuanzi's expression changed. He reached out to stop Hongyun, but his hand stopped midway—at this point, any forceful intervention would only invite criticism.

Hongyun stood there, looking at Jieyin and Zhunti kneeling on the ground, at the bloodstains on their foreheads and tear tracks on their faces. His lips trembled for a long time before he finally managed to squeeze out a sentence:

"Fellow Daoists... please rise quickly."

Zhunti's head shot up, a flicker of joy flashing in his eyes, but it was quickly drowned by tears. "Fellow Daoist Hongyun... you, you're willing to give it up?"

"I..." Hongyun opened his mouth, the words catching in his throat. He glanced back at the futon, his expression incredibly complex—regret, struggle, guilt, and a sense of indescribable relief.

Everyone in the hall held their breath, their hearts in their throats.

Hongyun took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind. He bent down, placed his hands on the edge of the futon, and gently lifted it.

Not pushing, not throwing, but lifting.

He held the straw-woven futon in his hands as if it were a precious, fragile treasure, and walked step by step to Zhunti.

"This one... I yield to you, Fellow Daoist." Hongyun's voice was very soft, almost inaudible.

He gently placed the futon on the ground in front of Zhunti, then took two steps back.

The entire hall fell into a deathly silence.

Everyone watched the futon placed before Zhunti, watched Hongyun's retreating back, and watched the almost irrepressible joy on Zhunti's face.

Zhen Yuanzi closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. He patted Hongyun's shoulder, saying nothing.

Zhunti stared at the futon before him for two breaths, then suddenly lunged forward, embracing it as if afraid it would escape. Holding the futon, tears streamed down his face again, this time genuine tears—crying tears of joy.

"Thank you, Fellow Daoist... thank you for fulfilling my wish..." Zhunti choked out, hugging the futon and repeatedly kowtowing to Hongyun.

Jieyin also stood up and bowed deeply to Hongyun. "This kindness and virtue will never be forgotten."

Hongyun gave a wry smile and shook his head, retreating to Zhen Yuanzi's side, no longer looking at the futon.

Zhunti, clutching the futon, scrambled back to the fifth futon's position, carefully arranged it, and then sat down.

The moment he sat down, the sorrowful expression on his face vanished, replaced by an almost manic excitement. But he quickly suppressed it, clasped his hands together, bowed towards Hongjun, and then bowed towards Hongyun.

The struggle for the futon was over.

Taiyi stood there, quietly watching the scene.

His gaze lingered on Hongyun for a moment, then shifted to Zhunti, and finally settled back on the futon. He could "see" the thick Karma Thread connecting Hongyun and the futon had completely snapped, the broken ends slowly dissipating. A new, slender but tenacious Karma Thread was extending from Zhunti, firmly connecting to the futon.

Is this destiny? Taiyi thought silently. Hongyun yielded the seat, Zhunti obtained his position, Jieyin stood beside him—everything was unfolding according to the trajectory recorded in past lives.

But now, I am here.

He took a deep breath, and his internal magical power began to circulate slowly. It wasn't an offensive technique, but an auxiliary art recorded in an ancient secret text, used to distort perception within a three-foot radius.

He needed to wait for an opportunity.

Wait for the moment when everyone believed the dust had settled and their guard was down.

Wait for the moment when Zhunti was completely immersed in the joy of obtaining the futon and let his guard down.

Wait for the point when the Karma Thread had re-stabilized, but not yet fully solidified.

Now, the time was almost here.

Taiyi shifted his feet slightly, tilting his body half a step to the left—that direction was where several powerful figures stood watching the spectacle, and a little jostling in such a crowd was perfectly normal.

His movement was natural, as if he had truly been pushed by the crowd. Even Di Jun, standing beside him, instinctively reached out to steady him, not noticing anything unusual.

He stumbled forward half a step.

His left hand "unconsciously" reached forward, as if to grab something to steady himself.

The direction of his reach happened to be the position of the futon Zhunti had just sat on.

Now—

Taiyi silently recited.

But at that very moment, Hongjun on the high platform suddenly opened his eyes.

The Dao Ancestor's gaze swept over the area below, pausing on Taiyi for a fleeting moment.

Just for that instant.

Taiyi felt his movements suddenly freeze.

It wasn't paralysis or restraint, just a pure feeling of being "seen through." It was as if every action he was about to take had been foreseen by those eyes.

He forcefully suppressed the turmoil in his heart, his left hand making a sharp turn in mid-air, landing on a nearby dragon-carved pillar.

"Hoo..."

He let out a long breath, steadied himself, and put on a relieved expression, smiling at Di Jun. "Nearly fell."

Di Jun frowned, glanced at him, and said nothing.

Taiyi leaned against the pillar, closed his eyes, and calmed his racing heart.

That moment... that was too close.

Did Hongjun notice?

He didn't know.

But he knew now wasn't the time to act.

He opened his eyes and looked toward Zhunti. Zhunti had already settled firmly onto the cushion, eyes closed, regulating his breath as he prepared to listen to the Dao. Jieyin stood behind him, his sorrowful expression considerably faded, with a hint of a smile faintly visible.

Hongyun and Zhen Yuanzi retreated to the back rows to stand. Hongyun kept his head bowed, thinking about who knows what. Zhen Yuanzi had one hand on Hongyun's shoulder, his gaze sweeping over Zhunti with a chill that could freeze.

The atmosphere in the hall stabilized once more.

Hongjun spoke slowly, his voice calm and distant:

"What I will speak of today is the Dao of the Quasi-Saint."

The moment his voice fell, the entire great hall of Zixiao Palace trembled violently.

The dragon patterns on the thirty-six coiling dragon pillars came alive, dark golden light flowing, the gems in the dragon eyes shooting out brilliant spiritual light. The star map on the ceiling spun faster, the trajectories of the stars intertwining into profound patterns. Dense spiritual mist surged from the cloud-patterned white jade bricks on the ground, enveloping everyone within.

The sermon had officially begun.

Taiyi stood there, feeling the Karma Threads around him tremble slightly in the Dao rhythm.

He closed his eyes and began to adjust his breathing and focus his mind according to the methods of that ancient secret art.

But in his heart, he was already calculating the next opportunity.

The cushion had changed hands, but the karma was not yet stable.

He still had a chance.

He just needed to wait until Zhunti was completely immersed in listening to the Dao, until Jieyin let down his guard, until everyone's attention was fully captured by Hongjun's sermon...

That would be the real opportune moment.

He opened his eyes and looked at the cushion in front of him, at Zhunti sitting upon it.

Deep within his golden eyes, a dark glint flashed.

Just wait.

The real show was just beginning.