Buddha, Open Your Eyes

A quiet bedroom.

The four walls are made of blue bricks, and the doors and windows are made of wooden frames in a grid pattern. The old reddish-brown paint is already somewhat mottled, and the gauze covering the door has long since turned yellow.

The entire room contained only three sturdy wooden beds pushed together, with twelve sets of blue bedding neatly arranged on them.

The intense sunlight streamed through the doors and windows, causing a slight mist to rise from the bedding.

Call!!

The water vapor suddenly swayed in the sunlight.

Chu Tianshu entered the room and smelled a slight musty odor. He couldn't help but raise his hand to fan the air in front of his nose.

This house probably isn't cleaned much; on humid days, it's just left to mix moisture and grime from the air.

In this kind of sunny weather, the smell is brought out and becomes quite unpleasant.

Chu Tianshu activated his hearing, expanding his perception range. While sensing the situation, he reached out, opened the door, and went outside.

This is a large temple built on the top of a hill, with many houses and courtyards.

However, it doesn't seem to be the kind of temple that relies on worshippers to make money; there aren't many incense burners, tea rooms, or gifts given in return for prayers.

There are only three main halls that house painted clay Buddha statues. In the other courtyards, there are mostly just some portraits of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas hanging on the walls.

Instead, almost every courtyard had plum blossom stakes, wooden dummy stakes, weapon racks, and stone locks.

But no one was active in these courtyards at this time.

There is a large courtyard halfway up the back mountain.

The roof tiles are thick and sturdy, and the walls are over ten feet high and a foot thick. The houses are like silent stone behemoths.

Dozens of monks, all covered in what looked like gold paint, tall and imposing, each wielding a club, a dagger, or a staff, guarded the key points of the courtyard.

Four young monks, their faces pale, sat together in an open space enclosed by these large houses.

"Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara practices the profound Prajnaparamita----"

The four men kept chanting scriptures, but their faces were extremely haggard, their eyes were filled with fear, and their pupils would occasionally contract.

The air around them was filled with the stench of their own blood and the stench of corpses emanating from the large houses.

Laoming Temple was once one of the Shaolin Temple's subordinate temples and a martial arts sect with a great reputation in several nearby prefectures and counties.

The temple practices asceticism and adheres to the principle of "better to have none than to have bad ones." The monks of the previous three generations totaled only a few dozen people.

The disciples, both young and middle-aged, number only a little over a hundred in total.

Originally, although life in the temple was tough and strict, it was still a lively place because it was a large group of young people gathered together.

But now, most of those hundred-plus disciples have become corpses in those houses, leaving only these four survivors.

These eighteen large houses halfway up the mountain behind the temple are the Eighteen Trials set up by the temple's predecessors.

According to the rules, disciples in the sect must pass Eighteen Trials in order to graduate.

Those who fail the trials and reach the required age can only be considered as servants in the temple or be dismissed and sent home; they cannot be considered as disciples who have completed their apprenticeship.

Among the four, one of them was nearing the end of his reading when he suddenly widened his eyes and sped up the last few sentences, each word clear as if he were shouting.

As soon as he finished reading, he clutched his chest, coughing violently. His whole body curled up in agony, but amidst his heavy breathing and running snot, a look of relief appeared on his face.

You passed!

The gilded monk standing to the side, his staff planted firmly on the ground, uttered a powerful declaration.

The other three young monks, their chests heaving, chanted scriptures in a trembling, almost broken voice.

Even if they wanted to imitate the previous person and finish reciting faster, their internal injuries wouldn't allow them to utter so many words in one breath.

These four young monks were the strongest and most talented among the young disciples. Passing the Eighteen Trials would not have been difficult for them, but they wanted to stay on the mountain to further their studies, which is why they hadn't tried to pass the trials before.

However, for the past seven days, the senior monks in the temple have been forcing all disciples to repeatedly pass through the trials.

Anyone who disobeys orders is shot dead on the spot. Even if you pass one round and pass all eighteen trials, you still have to go through another round at night, without rest day or night.

After seven consecutive days of such intense training, even someone with an iron body would be riddled with internal injuries.

The elders even had to watch them fight off sleep and do their morning prayers. If they couldn't finish reciting a single scripture steadily, or made a mistake halfway through, it was a serious problem.

It seems that the four survivors are about to be reduced to one.

"Third disciple!"

The abbot, with white eyebrows and beard, and blood-red eyelids, sat cross-legged in the front corridor. He was tall and imposing, his body also covered in gold paint, and he held prayer beads in his hand.

Do you feel short of breath, as if your heart and lungs are about to burst, and your bones are aching as if they are breaking?

"Are you experiencing dizziness, mental fog, and a near forgetting of the scriptures?"

The abbot's voice, like the echoing of a bronze bell, enveloped the open space; he glared angrily and brandished his beard.

"Now is the time for spiritual practice!"

"Otherwise, how could one attain the true meaning of asceticism? For the past seven days, we have accompanied you, guarding the checkpoints, fighting off sleep, and doing our homework, without a break either. Why are we now full of energy and radiant with vitality?"

The abbot stroked his beard, revealing two large, bloodshot eyes that seemed about to bulge out of their sockets.

"This is because your resolve is not firm enough, and you cannot yet uphold the true meaning of asceticism."

"Recite it quickly, recite it quickly! If you can't even finish reciting this scripture, then I'll have to ask your master to use the wonderful method of striking someone on the head with a sharp blow!"

The three monks trembled.

The scene of their fellow disciples having their heads smashed by a single blow from a staff seemed to reappear before their eyes.

However, their injuries were too severe, and with this tremor, they were completely unable to continue reading, and they all started coughing.

"Um?!"

Upon seeing this, the abbot frowned, his anger flaring, and slowly stood up.

"This child is beyond redemption! Bring me your staff, this old monk will personally give him a good scolding!"

Two monks beside him worked together to carry over a nine-ringed Zen staff.

This staff was forged from meteorite iron from the deep sea over ten thousand years. It may look ordinary in size, but it actually weighs over 1,200 kilograms and has been polished by Divine Intent over a long period of time.

Ordinary people, upon touching this staff, are immediately suppressed by Divine Intent, their internal energy cannot circulate, and their five senses become dulled, as if they were blind and deaf.

Normally, this staff is kept in the sandy area behind the Ancestral Hall. If it needs to be taken out, it must be carried by a skilled monk from the temple.

The abbot reached out with his right hand, grasped the staff, held it horizontally at his side, and walked step by step toward his three disciples.

The three disciples clutched their chests, drenched in sweat, utterly despairing.

The disciple who had passed the test, witnessing this scene, felt a deep sorrow in his heart and silently lamented, "Buddha, open your eyes!"

"Look at the horrific tragedy that has befallen our Laoming Temple! Monks are slaughtering their disciples!"

Despair!!

The abbot suddenly stopped, and all the gilded monks stared at the young monk's back.

The young monk who had just passed through the checkpoint turned around and was both surprised and delighted.

A strange man with black hair and a sword appeared here at some unknown time. His skills must be extraordinary, and he may be the true source of hope.

"Strangeness."

Chu Tianshu looked at the group of gilded monks and frowned as he spoke.

"You don't seem like Evil Spirit, but you don't seem like living people either. What are you?"

"Forget it, let's take it first."

As if sensing Chu Tianshu's hostility, the abbot raised his thick eyebrows and suddenly made a move.

The nine-ringed staff in his hand was like a living dragon, and with a whoosh, it burst forth with a violent strike.

The aura emanating from the staff twisted and deformed, transforming into a real black dragon, baring its fangs and claws, pouncing forward.

Chu Tianshu flicked his wrist, his index finger moving with lightning speed, like a divine sword drawn from its sheath, a thunderclap shattering a mountain.

A blazing Gang Qi, blue on the outside and white on the inside, passed through the group of young monks and crashed into the chin of the black dragon.

Boom!!!!

The black dragon instantly shattered, reverting to its original form as a monk's staff.

The entire staff rose uncontrollably high into the air.

This abbot's skill is quite profound; the tiger's mouth of his hand was not shattered by the shock. When his mind was clear, he had probably already cultivated to the Taboo realm.

I don't know what could have caused such a master to become neither alive nor dead, and to go insane.

Just as the staff was raised, he suddenly let go, his figure shifting three times in an instant.

Three figures, linked together to form a dark golden, winding trajectory.

The trajectory ended with a blast aimed directly at Chu Tianshu.

However, after Chu Tianshu flicked out his index finger, his middle finger had already hooked it in place.

As if it had been rehearsed beforehand, just as the abbot rushed in front of him and threw a punch, he flicked his middle finger, which struck the knuckles of the fist precisely.

Buzz!!

A ripple instantly spread throughout the abbot's entire body.

The abbot suddenly froze, as if he had turned into a golden statue.

Chu Tianshu's hands did not stop. After flicking his middle finger, he suddenly flipped his palm and used the pads of his four fingers to strike the abbot's fist like he was playing a musical instrument.

The gilded monks of the ii sect, who were about to charge forward with their weapons, were swept away by the layers of shockwaves, their movements becoming sluggish and their steps becoming difficult.

Soon, all the monks froze in place, assuming various postures, unable to move.

The shockwave dispersed their power and locked their acupoints.

Even those vital points had a subtle, oppressive feeling about them.

By a mere hair's breadth, all the gilded monks would have died in the same instant.

Chu Tianshu spared their lives for the time being and withdrew his hand.

What exactly is going on here?

Chu Tianshu looked at the four young monks, "Do you have anything to say?"

As his gaze swept across them, the four monks felt as if he could transmit his power even through his eyes. Wherever his gaze fell, their bodies felt warm and their pain was greatly reduced.

Especially the monk who had previously managed to get through the ordeal, his breathing became calm and even.

"This humble monk Zuo Qiu, a monk of the Zuo generation from the Mount Laoming."

The moment the monk relaxed, he felt his legs go weak, so he simply knelt down, clasped his hands together, and kowtowed as if pleading for something.

"I will never forget your life-saving grace, and I will repay you with my whole life."

"However, the reason why the elders in the temple are in such a state is all due to the Heavenly Ranking, Non-Self temple intentionally concocted evil medicine and harmed themselves."

"This matter concerns the temple's centuries-old reputation and must be defended. I humbly request the wise counsel of my elders!"