NOVEL WEB Chapter 9: Arhat
Chapter 9: Arhat
———
The atmosphere fell into an inexplicable silence.
One man, one Buddha.
One mad demon, one sacred being.
Lin Yao clenched his teeth, the earlier Buddhist chants nearly shattering his sanity completely.
“What is the Weaver Girl planning?!”
Waves of pain made coherent thought impossible.
The Weaver Girl remained still beside him, detached as a spectator.
When Lin Yao didn’t respond, the Buddha showed no anger, speaking softly instead.
“All living beings suffer. This humble monk created this paradise to offer salvation. By the grace of their faith, they call me the Lankā Bodhisattva.”
Paradise? Bodhisattva?
A mocking smile tugged at Lin Yao’s lips.
He glanced at the crowd behind him. What he saw in their eyes wasn’t kindness—
but submission.
Obedience to this so-called Lankā Bodhisattva.
“And what does the Buddha want from this ‘Holy One’?”
At this point, Lin Yao stopped thinking about escape.
The Weaver Girl clearly wanted to remain an observer. Though her motives were unclear,
why should he exhaust himself trying to unravel it all?
The lotus of Buddha’s hands carried the Lankā Bodhisattva forward until he stood before Lin Yao.
“Holy One, Not-Seeing and Not-Speaking have received enlightenment and entered the path. Today, they shall attain the fruit of arhatship. Would you care to witness it?”
Lin Yao plucked a fruit from the table and tossed it into his mouth.
“As you wish, Buddha.”
Even faced with such provocation, the Lankā Bodhisattva showed no trace of anger.
With a faint smile, he waved a hand toward the two young monks.
The entire banquet hall trembled.
Lin Yao’s brow arched. The source of the tremor wasn’t some divine power—
but the devotees behind him.
They approached the two monks, encircling them just as they had surrounded Lin Yao earlier.
Lin Yao kept eating, but his eyes never left the scene.
Tap.
A soft sound as a stroke of gold paint was brushed onto Not-Seeing’s cheek.
Then another. And another.
His face, his body, his patchwork robe—even his features were soon buried under thick layers of gilt.
Not-Seeing trembled faintly.
Another brushstroke sealed his nose and mouth.
Lin Yao’s hand paused. The fruit fell from his fingers.
“Does the Holy One have concerns?”
“None. Only fatigue.”
The Lankā Bodhisattva nodded gently.
In the center, Not-Seeing no longer looked human. From a distance, he resembled a golden statue of stacked smiling faces.
His body convulsed violently. Muffled whimpers escaped as he clawed at his face.
But the gold paint weighed his arms down like lead.
Lin Yao studied the Lankā Bodhisattva, but the latter’s expression remained serene.
Ahead, Not-Seeing began tearing at the gilt.
The metallic tang of blood seeped into the air as his fingers split and bled.
“Buddha! I don’t want to be an arhat anymore! I don’t want it!”
His agonized scream was raw with terror.
Not-Seeing stared desperately at the Lankā Bodhisattva. Wasn’t he supposed to be revered, second only to the Holy One?
Yet the moment the gold paint coated his face, he had felt death’s approach—
his senses vanishing, even breath becoming a luxury.
This was nothing like the glorious arhatship he’d imagined.
“Not-Seeing.”
The Bodhisattva lowered his gaze, his voice tender.
But Lin Yao felt true fear—deep, soul-rending fear.
The young monk froze at the sound of his name.
The Lankā Bodhisattva stepped down from the lotus platform and approached him.
With one hand, he wiped the blood and tears from Not-Seeing’s face.
When he touched the monk, Lin Yao saw it clearly—
hesitation.
Disgust?
Since obtaining Weaving Fate, Lin Yao’s sensitivity to emotions had sharpened.
[Translator: sauron05]
And what he sensed from the Lankā Bodhisattva wasn’t just anger, but revulsion—
not only toward Not-Seeing, but the devotees around them.
“Transcend early. Attain arhatship.”
With those words, the Lankā Bodhisattva drew Not-Seeing into an embrace.
The devotees seemed to take this as permission. They swarmed forward, eagerly daubing more gold onto the monk’s body.
Thud.
One collapsed, a grotesque smile plastered across his face.
Not-Seeing thrashed wildly, but the Bodhisattva’s arms were unyielding.
One by one, they fell.
Lin Yao finally understood—
the “gold paint” was their blood.
But why was Not-Seeing the only one suffering this torment?
His gaze shifted to Not-Speaking.
Instead of fear, the mute monk’s face bore something else—
the grim satisfaction of vengeance.
Lin Yao’s brow arched.
“So it was Not-Seeing who took pleasure in tormenting Not-Speaking daily?”
As for why Not-Seeing had killed Not-Hearing without hesitation in the well—perhaps the latter had condoned or even aided his cruelty.
“Not-Speaking.”
As Not-Seeing’s struggles weakened, the Lankā Bodhisattva spoke again.
The mute monk approached hesitantly.
“Do you hate me?”
The question made Lin Yao reassess the so-called Bodhisattva.
Suddenly, he understood the purpose behind the riddle given to the three monks.
The Lankā Bodhisattva had only ever wanted one.
Absolute evil.
Lin Yao’s eyes dropped to the Bodhisattva’s feet.
Radiating sacred light yet treading in filth.
A self-proclaimed saint unable to conquer his own wrath.
The Path of Beasts…
Lin Yao glanced at the Weaver Girl. Like him, she nibbled fruit, watching the spectacle unfold.
“Buddhism speaks of cultivating three bodies—Dharma Body, Reward Body, and Manifestation Body. Mastery leads to Buddhahood, not unlike the Daoist severing of the Three Corpses to achieve immortality.”
“Six realms of existence. Six transcendental powers.”
Lin Yao sensed this performance was meant to teach him this world’s laws of cultivation.
A general’s fame is built on ten thousand bones.
Before them, the drama neared its climax.
The Lankā Bodhisattva released Not-Seeing.
All eyes turned to Not-Hearing’s remains as the golden monk crawled forward on hands and knees.
The stench of blood thickened.
Lin Yao frowned and set down his wine cup.
The blood-drenched Bodhisattva approached, smiling. “Does it not suit your taste?”
Lin Yao poured the wine onto the ground.
“The blood ruins the flavor.”
The Lankā Bodhisattva nodded as if in agreement.
On the platform, only an empty patchwork robe and a blood-soaked Not-Speaking remained.
“Ugh… ugh…”
Lin Yao turned toward the sound.
The mute monk’s eyes suddenly burst, pain sending him writhing across the floor.
The Lankā Bodhisattva watched with amused interest as devotees carried out a wooden bucket—
the same one from the well, filled with Not-Hearing’s blood.
They tossed the robe and Not-Speaking inside.
The bucket shouldn’t have been large enough, yet the monk’s body sank effortlessly.
Gurgle. Gurgle.
Bubbles rose, followed by the sound of labored breathing.
Then, the patchwork robe emerged, bearing a grotesque creature—
a three-headed monstrosity.
One head had only ears.
One head had only eyes.
One head had only a mouth.
Three faces. Three beings.
The Lankā Bodhisattva chanted a mantra and bowed.
“All hail the Arhat’s return!”
The devotees prostrated themselves, their voices shaking the hall.
“All hail the Arhat’s return!”
(End of Chapter)