Green Silk White Horse Comes to Shouyang

In an instant, near-infinite radiance erupted from the body of the White-Robed Monk.

It was like a golden sun rising into the sky.

Yet, amidst the brilliance, Zhu Yuanzhang faintly heard the White-Robed Monk's cry of unwillingness and despair.

"No!!!"

As the morning sun rose, a stinging pain pierced his eyes, and Zhu Yuanzhang instinctively squeezed them shut.

In that moment, he seemed to hear a fragmented system prompt echoing from within the blinding Buddhist light.

[First year of Datong, the Emperor offered his body to Tongtai Temple, changing the era name to Datong.]

[The ministers submitted memorials requesting his return; only after three requests did he consent.]

This is a piece of history from this world, related to Dingguang Buddha—or more accurately, related to the technique the White-Robed Monk just lost control of.

Looking at the text before him, a realization dawned in Zhu Yuanzhang's heart.

A sequence of light and shadow seemed to force its way into Zhu Yuanzhang's mind.

Another cutscene!

System, stop messing around! I'm in the middle of a real-life showdown with the White Lotus Sect!

But it was useless.

Zhu Yuanzhang was once again transformed into a heartless spectator.

Within the Buddhist light born from the White-Robed Monk's self-detonation, the flickering figures gradually became clear, finally coalescing into an ancient, ornate temple.

The moment he saw the ancient temple, three large characters flashed before Zhu Yuanzhang's eyes.

[Tongtai Temple]

Inside the Mahavira Hall, before countless golden statues of deities, two figures draped in monk's robes sat facing each other.

The monk on the left wore magnificent robes; his hair and beard were snow-white, and his face possessed a solemn, sacred air.

Opposite him, the middle-aged monk in a patched robe had a compassionate brow, yet between his eyes lingered an unshakable "aura of slaughter."

Above the heads of the old monk and the middle-aged monk, their names hovered.

[Bodhidharma] [Emperor Wu of Liang, Xiao Yan]

The middle-aged monk on the right heaved a long sigh, shifting his gaze away from the oil lamp cast in gold, silver, and jewels standing before the ancient Buddha.

In this temple, built by exhausting the national strength of Southern Liang, such luxurious decorations and gold and silver ornaments were countless.

Even the scroll of the Ode to Pure Karma in his hands had each page specially treated with fragrant broth to prevent decay, usually kept in a jade box and worth ten thousand gold.

Yet, despite such sincere devotion to the Buddha, facing the compassionate statue before him, the middle-aged monk still held many unresolved doubts in his eyes.

"May I ask, High Monk."

"This Imperial One has built temples and transcribed scriptures; what merit is there in this?"

The old monk raised his eyes slightly upon hearing this, his green eyes fixed on the pious inquiry of the emperor before him, and he finally shook his head helplessly.

"No merit."

"How can there be no merit!" The middle-aged man's tone held both confusion and the anger and unwillingness of one being toyed with.

"These are but minor fruits of the human and heavenly realms, sounds with leaks; like a shadow following a form, though they exist, they are not real."

"Then what is true merit!"

Hearing the old monk's reply, the middle-aged man's eyes radiated brilliance, as if a gambler lost in the desert for many days had finally found an oasis; he was naturally overjoyed.

The old monk observed the changes in the middle-aged monk's expression, yet his own demeanor remained indifferent, as if he had already seen through the nine lifetimes of karma and the entirety of time and space regarding the man before him.

He felt no surprise at any of the middle-aged monk's reactions.

Closing his eyes and pressing his palms together, as if entering nirvana upon a lotus throne, he replied.

"Pure wisdom is wondrous and perfect, its essence is empty and still; such is merit, not to be sought after by worldly means."

"Only then is it true and profound merit!"

As these words were spoken!

Rumble!

Thunder exploded above Tongtai Temple!

A bolt of lightning descended from the sky, striking the wooden pillars of Tongtai Temple, instantly igniting a raging fire.

Inside the temple, the panicked cries of monks shouting "Fire!" rose one after another.

In an instant! The world spun!

The final sight was the ecstasy on the middle-aged man's face and the tranquility in the old monk's eyes.

Zhu Yuanzhang's vision went black, and when he opened his eyes again, his perspective had risen to a great height, as if looking down with disdain upon all living beings.

The once magnificent Tongtai Temple was now nothing more than a pile of broken bricks and shattered tiles.

The raging fires of Jinling burned through the night without pause, the sky-high flames consuming the palaces of Southern Liang and thousands of Buddhist temples south of the Huai River, rising into the heavens to form a line of text clearly written in roaring fire.

[In the first year of Taiqing, Hou Jing executed the Commander of the Central Army Zhu Yi, Minister of the Lesser Treasury Xu Lin, Right Guard Commander of the Crown Prince Lu Yan, and Bureau Supervisor Zhou Shizhen, raising his army in Shouyang.]

[That night, he crossed the Huai Water and marched his troops toward Stone City.]

[Emperor Wu of Liang doted on Buddhism, constructing three thousand precious temples and exhausting the wealth of the realm, to the point that the natural defenses of Jinling could not even block Hou Jing's mere 8,000 remnants.]

[Just five days later, Hou Jing breached Jinling, installed Xiao Zhengde as Emperor, and Emperor Wu of Liang starved to death in Taicheng.]

Everything before his eyes suddenly blurred.

The mountains of corpses, the precious temples reduced to ash and rubble, and the wretched scene of Emperor Wu of Liang's final moments all vanished into thin air.

Countless vengeful spirits rose, outlining a passage of blood-red text in the air.

[Drowning in the Buddhist faith, the discipline of the penal code was relaxed, and the strength of the people was exhausted on pagodas and temples!]

[When old age arrived and the Hou Jing Rebellion broke out, where was the protection of the Buddha?]

The cold, mechanical chime of the system echoed in the ears of Zhu Yuanzhang.

It was as ruthless and emotionless as ever, yet it seemed to be reminding Zhu Yuanzhang of something.

Text glowing with golden light flashed before Zhu Yuanzhang's eyes.

[Triggered Limited-Time Secret History: Green Silk White Horse Comes to Shouyang]

[Historical Context: Hou Jing Rebellion]

[Mission Objective: Escape Taicheng before the first day of the eleventh lunar month]

[Mission Reward: Perfection of the Dingguang Divine Mantra]

Seeing the words "limited-time," Zhu Yuanzhang was stunned for a moment.

Then, he was overjoyed.

I'm familiar with this, aren't I?

Isn't this just a dungeon for farming limited-edition skill books?

So, it's not just special locations that can trigger Secret Histories.

Even special figures and events can do it.

"Wait! Where has the fighting reached in reality?"

"I wasn't blown to bits by the White-Robed Monk, was I?"

He held his breath and focused his mind.

Return to reality!

Pain! An unprecedented, agonizing pain!

Zhu Yuanzhang lowered his head.

A piece of rubble the size of a bowl was embedded directly into his stomach.

The blood flowing from it stained the debris beneath him red.

Before him, half of the Mahavira Hall, along with the monks of Imperial Awakening Temple who had been coerced here by the Incense Army, had all vanished.

Only fragments of heroes and a few tattered monk robes remained, occasionally mixed into the ruins of the Mahavira Hall.

"How miserable! But fortunately, I still have... Mountain-Shrinking Fist."

Zhu Yuanzhang pushed aside a severed hand resting on his chest, gritted his teeth, and pulled the stone out of his stomach.

Instantly, the bleeding wound was filled with deep blue, fish-scale-like scabs.

Following that, an itchy, tingling sensation spread from his abdomen, accompanied by a warmth like flowing water.

Once the wound on his abdomen had healed, Zhu Yuanzhang sighed.

He recited silently in his heart.

"Great Wisdom Zen Technique."

A dull, cutting pain like a blunt knife slicing through flesh came from the wound, and Zhu Yuanzhang gasped.

The fish-scale scars on his abdomen fell away in rustles, much like withered leaves falling in autumn.

Zhu Yuanzhang looked at his lower abdomen again; where the hideous, alien skin had fallen away, fresh, pink flesh had grown back.

Having finished all this, Zhu Yuanzhang stood up unsteadily.

A terrifying sense of hunger surged through his body.

"So hungry."

Thinking back to his transmigration, he had died perhaps a hundred times and survived countless battles, yet he had only eaten two steamed buns.

Zhu Yuanzhang could not help but feel a sense of desolation.

As a transmigrator, was he living a bit too miserably?

Zhu Yuanzhang quickly adjusted his mindset.

After all, he was still in the middle of a no-death run to slay demons and eliminate devils, wasn't he?

He could not afford the slightest bit of slack.

Where was the White-Robed Monk?

Zhu Yuanzhang scanned his surroundings.

Yet, he only saw a blood-stained strip of white robe amidst the ashes at the center of the explosion.

What a super bomber!

Confirming that the White-Robed Monk was dead beyond any doubt, Zhu Yuanzhang let out a sigh of relief.

The good news was that the Incense Army had all been blown to bits by the White-Robed Monk's uncontrolled curse before he died.

The bad news was that the monks of Imperial Awakening Temple had also been completely wiped out along with them.

"What about Gao Bin? He didn't get blown to death too, did he?"

Zhu Yuanzhang touched the two blank ordination certificates tucked against his chest.

"If he got himself killed in the blast as well, where on earth am I supposed to find another abbot of Imperial Awakening Temple to sign and stamp my certificates?"