My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion

Suddenly, a violent outburst left the villagers' faces pale with terror.

No one could have imagined that the kindly, benevolent old Abbot would be cleaved in half in such a manner.

After the initial shock came seething anger as rage contorted their faces. The villagers all fixed their deadly glares on Chen Yi, their eyes brimming with hatred, as though they wished to hack him into pieces, divide the flesh, and use it to fill their famished stomachs.

Chen Yi slowly pulled his blade free from the mangled mass of flesh, flicking the blood away with precision.

He calmly stepped over the still-upright corpse.

The old Abbot, wearing his monk's hat and robes, remained standing motionless in place.

As Chen Yi passed by him, he suddenly heard a voice.

"Benefactor."

Chen Yi's gaze sharpened subtly.

Turning his head, he saw the Abbot's lips still moving. From the fatal crack that split him from the crown of his skull to the corner of his mouth, the wound seemed almost trivial.

The female crown's pupils contracted. Even for her, what she was witnessing was beyond comprehension.

What kind of being could continue speaking even after their head had been split in two?

Could this Abbot possess supernatural powers, having attained Arhat fruit, becoming someone who transcended the cycle of reincarnation?

Chen Yi fixed his stare on the old Abbot and swung his blade again.

A gaping wound, as large as a bowl, appeared. Blood spewed forth like a fountain, and the Abbot's skull dropped with a resounding clatter to the ground.

Turning to gauge the villagers' reactions, Chen Yi noticed that after recovering from their initial shock, their faces showed little surprise, as if they were already familiar with the Abbot's unnatural resilience.

"Where has my body gone?"

The head on the ground opened its mouth to speak, its eyes still darting about. Then, the four figures present witnessed the headless body begin to stir.

The headless body moved awkwardly, as though unaccustomed to its state—but it soon found the head, picked it up without hurry, and reattached it.

"Namo Maitreya, Honorific Buddha of the Future Era…" The old Abbot intoned a Buddhist chant, then turned to face Chen Yi, bringing his palms together in a gesture of prayer before bowing slightly. "Benefactor, has your anger been pacified? Our village has offended greatly and collided with your path; we humbly beg your forgiveness."

Chen Yi narrowed his eyes at the strange Abbot. Though he could sense no killing intent from this peculiar monk, that didn't mean he wouldn't strike again if necessary.

At a critical moment, Yin Tingxue poked at his shoulder.

Chen Yi turned to look at the King's daughter. She cautiously gave him a meaningful look.

Gathering her courage, she faced the Abbot and spoke:

"Abbot, what is the meaning of all this?"

The old Abbot let out a heavy sigh.

"It is simply that everyone is hungry."

............…

As they followed the village path toward the settlement, bathed in the rays of the setting sun, there were no sounds of barking dogs nor the crow of any roosters. The fields were blooming with golden wheat, yet not a single household displayed signs of smoke rising from their chimneys.

Along the roadside, large numbers of statues dotted the landscape.

Golden statues gleamed brightly on both sides of the path, each bearing distinct forms and shapes. Free from any specks of dust, they stood astonishingly, positioned at intervals—three steps for an Arhat, six steps for a Bodhisattva, nine steps for a Buddha. Buddhist Scriptures spoke of countless Buddhas, numbering more than grains of sand along the Ganges, tens of thousands of billions. And here in this tiny village, the scene seemed to perfectly match those Scriptures.

It was hard to fathom how such a small village could construct so many statues and possess so much gold leaf...

Chen Yi casually knocked on a golden Arhat by the roadside, hearing a dull echo.

His eyes narrowed in disbelief.

Solid gold?

He raised his gaze and spotted the wooden signboard marking the village. Etched prominently were the words "Thousand Buddha Village."

The old Abbot walked ahead of the group, the villagers trailing from afar, while Chen Yi glimpsed heaps of grain piled like small mountains in the terraced fields. The surplus was so excessive that the granaries couldn't contain it, leaving the harvest exposed to the elements, battered by wind and rain.

Could this village's inhabitants be exchanging all their grain for gold?

Even if they did this tenfold over, it should still be far from enough.

Speeding his pace slightly, the old Abbot led them onward. The dilapidated structures of the village paled in comparison to the statues, their worn-out state further magnified by the grandeur of their surroundings. Soon, he guided everyone to Maitreya Temple.

The magnificent Maitreya Temple shimmered under the slanting rays of the evening sun. Its golden rooftop sparkled like liquid glass. The secluded pool within the temple grounds was eerily tranquil, its waters pristine and transparent, showing not a single trace of fish life below.

Compared to the rundown state of the village, Maitreya Temple stood resplendently, far removed from the mundane—a sight distinctly similar to the statues lining the path.

The group was ushered into one of the side chambers, where Chen Yi cautiously inspected the surroundings, finding nothing unusual.

The old Abbot instructed them to rest here for a brief moment, promising to explain things soon.

Nevertheless, Chen Yi remained on guard, secretly observing everything without betraying his suspicions.

From the shadows of a beam, he saw the old Abbot walking down a long corridor, calling the temple's other Abbots over.

"Prepare vegetarian meals for these benefactors."

The old Abbot spoke calmly.

The gathered Abbots widened their eyes to a size akin to copper bells. One, as aged as the Abbot himself, trembled and muttered:

"There's so little grain left in the village…"

As he spoke, that Abbot gestured with his hands—a gesture resembling palms almost pressed together, indicating a mere thin layer of rice.

Chen Yi squinted his eyes at the remark.

Not long ago, he had seen fields overflowing with abundance.

"Ah, our villagers were thoughtless and caused offense. This is indeed deserved."

The old Abbot sighed, chanting a prayer afterward, his voice devoid of anger despite Chen Yi's slaughter of dozens of villagers.

The Abbots exchanged looks, sighed along in resignation, and finally said:

"Then we shall accompany them when the time comes, even if we only catch a whiff of the meal's aroma."

"When that time comes, please take them to the Mahavira Hall."

Saying this, the old Abbot turned and departed.

From his perch on the beam, Chen Yi caught every word of their exchange.

Night had fallen and the group was led into Mahavira Hall to dine.

Within the hall was a shrine to Maitreya Buddha, whose broad smile and massive belly implied satisfaction as if he had already feasted.

A simple and coarse vegetarian meal was laid upon a wooden table.

Chen Yi surveyed his surroundings, catching sight of the Abbots from before. Heads lowered, seated cross-legged atop meditation mats, their palms clasped together in pious devotion.

"Our apologies. The temple has neither fine wine nor sumptuous meat and can only serve this humble meal to you, benefactors."

The old Abbot made a gesture inviting them to eat.

Chen Yi glanced toward Yin Weiyin.

The female crown calculated with her fingers and shook her head, signaling that the food held no poison and there were no traps like Arrays or snares nearby.

Chen Yi's unease only deepened.

The eerie Thousand Buddha Village brimmed with oddities.

An unkillable old Abbot who bore no hatred despite the slaughter; a seemingly blessed harvest with grain stockpiled yet serving only meager portions of food; countless golden Buddha statues lining the road, juxtaposed against a village falling into ruin with nothing but crumbled walls and broken foundations.

Drip.

Inside the quiet Mahavira Hall, an unexpected sound of water droplets broke the silence.

Chen Yi turned to look and noticed one Abbot staring at the meal spread before them—drool quietly dripping from his mouth.

He looked as ravenous as a starved ghost reborn into this world.

Chen Yi grew instantly alert.

The old Abbot witnessed the scene, sighed softly, a sadness too unfathomable for words hidden in his expression.

He waved his hand.

A faint breeze passed over the hall, revealing the hidden truth about their temple's inhabitants.

The gathered Abbots, once shrouded, became starkly visible. All were skin and bones, skeletal thin, with bodies reduced to a mere shell of humanity. Their bellies grotesquely bloated like expectant women or shriveled like deflated drums leaking air.

As the sun set further into dusk, before the statue of Maitreya—the Buddha with the immense belly, symbolic of an ability to accommodate all worldly matters—sat nothing but starving ghosts.