My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion

The enormous statue of Maitreya Buddha stood in the Mahavira Hall.

Here, everyone believed in the coming of Maitreya, and that when He descended, they would achieve enlightenment and liberation.

Under the sunlight, the emaciated hungry ghosts faced piles of gold scattered across the ground without a shred of greed, for gold could not become food.

It wasn't that no one tried stripping bark or eating grass roots; it was just that those things, in this Hungry Ghost Realm, turned into nothingness the moment they entered the stomach.

Not only that, but consuming them seemed to fuel insatiable greed, adding karma needlessly.

The people were so thin that they looked like skin wrapped around bones, their stomachs rumbling like drums. So they recited the Buddha's name and chanted Buddhist scriptures, awaiting the day their death might grant them liberation. But was that true liberation? In this Hungry Ghost Realm, nobody knew. They just believed it to be so, as did the elderly abbot.

Yin Tingxue watched the wandering hungry ghosts inside the temple, her heart sinking.

Standing beside her was the female crown, who pitied the suffering souls as well, though her empathy was not as deep as Yin Tingxue's.

Rows of Buddha statues stood silently, their serene and benevolent faces exuding kindness, yet remaining mute. The scriptures spoke of the Buddha's great compassion and immense power, but those who had truly read them understood: the Buddha could not comprehend human suffering.

The Buddha is uncreated and undying; He knows no pain.

Yet all beings suffer.

Today, the elderly abbot planned to lead the people in chanting sutras and praying for blessings. The faith of everyone here was genuine. Nearly the entire Thousand Buddha Village gathered, filling the temple and its surroundings with the bustling noise of fervent devotion. Yin Tingxue could, however, see the shadows of suffering cast upon every forehead—pain that couldn't be hidden. Their rumbling stomachs echoed like the knock of wooden fish, and one haggard face after another revealed an endless hunger, a numbness stretched on for untold years.

It was all suffering made bearable through false joys, which made Yin Tingxue think of her own life.

"Begin chanting! Everyone, be seated!"

The elderly abbot spoke to the crowd, and the villagers promptly knelt down in unison inside and around the temple, facing the Mahavira Hall. Maitreya Buddha sat upon His lotus pedestal, the Future Buddha not yet descended. When He eventually came into the world, it would become a Land of Bliss.

Everyone here knew the scriptures well and understood such teachings.

An abbot approached the two women and said courteously:

"Kind benefactors, please join us. The temple has prepared meditation mats."

It would have been difficult for Yin Tingxue and the female crown to decline such hospitality.

Yin Tingxue gently lowered herself onto a meditation mat. They were seated within the Mahavira Hall, in one of the very front rows. Turning her head, she could see rows upon rows of devoted believers, all kneeling, enduring the torment of eternal hunger.

Dong.

The long bell rang, reverberating across the temple.

Rustle, rustle—it seemed everyone bowing their heads did so in utmost sincerity.

Yin Tingxue looked at those suffering hungry ghosts and felt as though she could glimpse their past lives. Nearly all of them had been people of chaotic times, forced into wrongdoing just to survive.

It is said, "Those near vermilion are stained red; those near ink are stained black." Humans cannot choose their environments, forced into deeds of evil, yet still accountable for their sins. Thus, the Buddha teaches: Nirvana means extinction—cut suffering off at its root; in doing so, suffering ceases to exist.

The faces of the hungry ghosts were sorrowful. Yin Tingxue believed in the inherent goodness of humanity. If people were placed in a virtuous environment, they might forego stealing even loose belongings or leave their doors unlocked at night. But placed in dire circumstances, anyone could commit unthinkable acts. For example, if she had become the Demon Sect Saintess, she might have turned utterly wicked.

Under the solemn intonation of the elderly abbot, the chantings of scriptures began to rise and fall in waves.

"I am born from the right ribs; you, Maitreya, are born from the crown.

I live a lifetime of a hundred years; Maitreya lives eighty-four thousand years.

My land is earthly soil; your land is golden soil.

My land is suffering; your land is joy…"

The unison in sutra chants echoed throughout the Maitreya Temple's interior and exterior like a mournful dirge. Among the assembly of starving souls, not a single one achieved liberation from the scriptures.

Amid the swirling incense smoke, Maitreya Buddha still sat impassively before His lotus pedestal.

The people of Thousand Buddha Village lived lives of unbearable suffering. Everything was pain—whether in the Hungry Ghost Realm or the Human Realm—it was endless and insurmountable pain.

In chaotic times, famine is widespread, and people devour one another. In prosperous eras, the lavish feasts of the wealthy rot away while corpses freeze on the streets. Be it war or peace, the suffering of all beings remains unredeemed.

And so Shakyamuni Buddha once said: "My land is suffering."

Before the Buddha statue, the elderly abbot reciting sutras turned his head to look at Yin Tingxue.

Yin Tingxue noticed the old man's gaze.

His gaze seemed to ask: "Why aren't you chanting?"

In and around the temple, the ground was littered with starving corpses. Pain and suffering abounded, with all beings enduring torment and despair. Only chanting prayers and sutras offered them solace.

Despite their exhaustive study of Buddhist Law, they still lacked liberation. Other than kneeling before the Buddha statue and chanting His name and sutras, they saw no other way forward.

"Don't you wish to liberate us from our suffering?"

Another gaze turned to her, silently interrogating Yin Tingxue.

Yin Tingxue pressed her lips tightly. Listening to the endlessly repeated sutras, she felt an overwhelming mix of emotions.

Raising her head, she could see the face of Maitreya Buddha.

If He descended to save humanity, this world would become heavenly bliss.

That's why, regardless of how much people suffered or starved, He always smiled, His belly forever full.

The people seemed to notice the elderly abbot's gaze. One by one, their eyes turned toward Yin Tingxue, filled with entreaty and longing for the young girl.

"Do you truly turn a blind eye to our suffering?"

As if with but a word, she could summon lotus flowers, and her speech would fulfill sacred laws.

If she spoke, perhaps they all could finally achieve liberation.

Yin Tingxue's breath quickened. She could see their suffering—their faces were hollow and numb.

She felt faint. All beings suffer—how could there be such pain? She herself suffered, always finding false joy within the pain.

The chantings of sutras continued, ceaseless like the waves of oceans.

Was there a way out of such pain?

From deep within, Yin Tingxue suddenly had a thought.

They suffered; she suffered too. Was there a way out?

There had to be, didn't there? Yes! The World-Honored One, Shakyamuni, had said it himself—if one wishes to escape all suffering, the only path lies in Nirvana. To attain Nirvana is to annihilate, to cease creation and destruction, to extinguish the cause of pain and thus erase its effect!

Yin Tingxue had always hated suffering and couldn't bear to see others suffer. When her mother lay agonizing on her sickbed, she recited endless scriptures—but in the end, everything amounted to nothing.

Yes, it all became nothing.

Through Nirvana, all became emptiness.

Yin Tingxue experienced a profound revelation.

Everything was suffering—all beings suffered, even herself. Thus, Nirvana was the only escape. To turn into emptiness, where pain no longer existed.

The thought surged suddenly and spread through her mind like a torrential flood, engulfing every corner with overwhelming force.

Her lips began to tremble slightly.

She wanted to help these people, to grant suffering beings true liberation.

She herself no longer wanted to suffer…

Thus, she began to speak:

"…"

Before her words left her lips.

A figure carrying a sword abruptly stepped across the threshold of the Mahavira Hall.

He appeared like a blood-tainted shadow honed through decades of hardship.

Silently, he unsheathed the sword strapped to his back.

Taking large strides, he moved forward through the crowd, heading straight toward the towering, imposing statue of Maitreya Buddha.

Maitreya Buddha's visage was solemn and dignified, His perpetually laughing expression and rounded belly undeterred by the suffering of all beings.

The man's pace did not falter. The crowd gazed at him in confusion and bewilderment until he stood directly before the statue.

The elderly abbot, realizing something, widened his eyes in shock and panic, too late to intervene.

The pitch-black blade of Hou Kang Sword rose high, its inscription reading, "When the heart grieves deeply, strength returns fiercely." Without any flourish, the blade sliced down vertically at the Buddha statue!

The sword's light exploded, sounding like a dragon's roar.

In an instant, the massive statue of Maitreya Buddha split with a thunderous crack, the hall trembling with the impact. The impossibly majestic sculpture shattered into pieces on the spot!

Yin Tingxue's eyes widened in astonishment; her realization was abruptly interrupted.

All attendees turned pale and gasped in disbelief. The sound of the collapsing statue struck like the tolling of a grand bell, resonating endlessly.

The elderly abbot staggered to his feet. The always kind-faced old man now erupted in fury, shouting hysterically:

"What are you doing? What have you done?! So many people worked tirelessly to forge this Maitreya Buddha—what gives you the right to destroy Him?! We treated you with respect, yet you desecrate our statue like the demon lord Mara!"

"Turn around and look."

The man spoke only these words.

The frail and wasted abbot hesitated before tremblingly twisting his neck, and what he saw left him utterly stunned.

One by one, the skeletal hungry ghosts began to dissipate like wind-blown shadows. They lowered their heads to examine themselves, gasping in astonishment before a wave of enlightenment swept over them.

They… were achieving liberation from the Hungry Ghost Realm.

The elderly abbot's eyes widened further; the sight pierced his vision as deeply as a nail driven through iron.

It turned out…

When the Buddha statue was destroyed, they attained freedom.

The people had mistaken the statue itself for Buddhist Law, blinded by it. When the statue crumbled, their hearts were laid bare and liberated!

The false faith had been shattered, leaving room for true Buddhist teachings to emerge.

"I… was the one who misled them!" the abbot rasped weakly.

His frail body suddenly collapsed.

The temple, however, erupted into joy and celebration.

...............…

..................

Soon after, Chen Yi and his companions' figures faded into this tiny world like the wind.

The people of Thousand Buddha Village, who had studied Buddhist texts their entire lives without understanding them, finally grasped their meaning upon the destruction of the statue.

The elderly abbot stood upon the temple steps, turning to see the spaces behind him, now devoid of people.

This once clamorous village now had only rows of Buddha statues—and one final hungry ghost.

Their physical statues had shattered, yet the most devout believer still kept his inner statue intact.

Draped in kasaya, the elderly abbot slowly ascended the staircase and returned to the Mahavira Hall.

The hollow Thousand Buddha Village held only him. Standing before the broken statue of Maitreya Buddha, he slowly knelt down.

With his emaciated hands, he picked up the Buddhist scripture once more.

As though his people were still present, he began chanting sutras aloud, his hoarse voice mingling with the hollow thrum of a hungry stomach knocking like wooden fish against silent halls.

His voice was ancient and melodic.

"I am born from the right ribs; you, Maitreya, are born from the crown.

I live a lifetime of a hundred years; Maitreya lives eighty-four thousand years.

My land is earthly soil; your land is golden soil."

His voice choked as tears streamed down:

"My land is suffering; your land is joy…"

The breeze swept over the desolate Thousand Buddha Village.

There were many Arhats, many Bodhisattvas, and many Buddhas,

but only one hungry ghost remained.