Tales of Folk Feng Shui Mysteries

Chapter 189: Chapter 101: Disheartened (1 / 2)



Yuan Beitang's words made my heart feel like it was riding a roller coaster. Just as I was about to press him again about what had happened, Master Yicheng said, "My master, Venerable Miaoyin, has taken Benefactor Jiang to the temple. For now, her life has been preserved."

I exhaled a long, shaky breath—Shiyu was still alive. As long as she lived, I'd do anything. I didn't care about waiting two years or ten years. Even if I only had one second left, I would still shout to her: I love you, and I want to marry you!

"I'm going right now!" I forced myself up, but my body gave out, and I fell headfirst to the floor.

Yuan Beitang rubbed the spot on his face where I'd punched him earlier and said, "Though her Buddha-root helped repair your internal organs, your essence and blood are still heavily depleted. This isn't something that can be recovered in a day or two. I suggest you just lie down and behave."

A sharp, cutting pain in my abdomen made it impossible to straighten up, and I clutched my stomach in agony. Thankfully, Yuan Beitang, still grumbling, helped me back onto the bed. But his mention of "Buddha-root" had me puzzled. That's a Buddhist concept—how could a Taoist like me possess such a thing?

I knew that hui gen—Buddha-root—was one of the 22 spiritual roots in Buddhism. It represents deep wisdom, the ability to see through illusions, to generate virtue and eventually attain enlightenment. According to the Great Meaning of Mahayana, "Faith-root arises from certainty in the Dharma, giving rise to the path—thus it is called a root." Essentially, one with Buddha-root is destined to attain Buddhahood. But I had no idea how Jiang Shiyu had transferred hers to me. It's an intangible thing.

When I asked Yuan Beitang about it, he just sighed and shook his head, offering no explanation.

I then asked about the Wu Gong (sorcerer) who had harmed me. Yuan Beitang admitted he didn't know whether the man was truly dead or not. But in that moment, I truly felt my anger boil over. If it hadn't been for him, Wang Yi wouldn't have died, and Jiang Shiyu wouldn't have been hurt trying to save me.

Yicheng said, "Benefactor Zhang, rest well. My master asked me to check if your body is adapting to the Buddha-root. If you feel discomfort, you can try meditation. I can teach you to sit in Zen today."

I shook my head instantly like a rattle drum. Was he kidding? If I were a secular man, maybe I'd consider it. But as a Taoist disciple? Practicing Buddhist meditation would be like betraying my sect.

Think about it—during the Investiture of the Gods, even among the Twelve Golden Immortals of the Chan Sect, figures like Burning Lamp, Avalokitesvara, Manjusri, Puxian, and Julusun all defected to Buddhism. The novel doesn't dwell much on this, but I doubt the author considered how Yuanshi Tianzun must've felt. If I were him, I'd be furious—raising disciples only to have them run off and join someone else's sect?

But who was I compared to Guangchengzi or the other immortals? I wasn't even a land immortal. I was a small fry—someone a ghost messenger could whip for fun. If I angered the higher-ups and the King of Hell decided to "chat" with me one day, I'd be finished.

"Master Yicheng, you're too kind. I'm still weak from blood loss, but the talisman water helped. No need to worry. Back when I was unconscious, I heard you took care of Jiang Shiyu—I truly thank you for that." That much I sincerely meant. Without him, she likely wouldn't have lasted as long as she did.

Yicheng replied, "When I first met Benefactor Jiang, she hadn't even come of age yet. To me, she's like family. Whether I save her or not has nothing to do with you." He wasn't trying to sugarcoat anything. After bowing slightly, he said he had delivered the message and wouldn't stay any longer. If I ever wanted to learn Zen meditation, I could give him a call. He even left me a business card.

Whatever else, the man had indeed helped save my life, so I remained respectful. After he left, Yuan Beitang sighed and muttered, "I just can't understand it. You're a Taoist who's received the precepts, and yet you somehow ended up with a Buddha-root. I wonder what your grandmaster would think. But anyway, your life is safe. Rest up. Once you're better, I'll take you to see Wang Yi. His fate was cursed from birth—he can't even be buried in the ground. Let's at least give him a proper farewell."

Wait a minute—wasn't it Yuan Beitang who helped transfer the Buddha-root from Jiang Shiyu to me?

I took a deep breath, trying to settle my emotions. Then I thought of Wang Yi again. Yes, the dead can't come back—but I swore to myself, his death would not be in vain. That sorcerer Kun Ji… even if he's already dead, I'll dig him up and make him pay!

Yuan Beitang told me we were now in his wooden cabin and urged me to rest. Once I was stronger, he'd take me to the temple to visit Jiang Shiyu. But I had a bad feeling—her condition didn't seem optimistic.

Sadly, my body was in terrible shape. I was supposed to rest for at least a month, but out of concern for Jiang Shiyu, I was already trying to get up by the fourth day. Every day I drank Yuan Beitang's talisman water. It smelled like rotten eggs—absolutely revolting. If he hadn't told me it stimulated blood regeneration, I wouldn't have touched it with a ten-foot pole.

As I mentioned before, essence and blood come in two types: innate and acquired. Losing innate essence is serious—it can't be restored. Fortunately, most of what I lost was acquired, with only a minor loss of the innate. The talisman water was helping stimulate recovery and rebuild my energy faster.

During my recovery, Yuan Beitang took good care of me. Though his mouth was always foul, the man himself was solid. He did say, however, that he owed me a punch. "You hit me, I remember. But since you're the younger generation, punching you back wouldn't be fun. I'll save it for your grandfather instead."


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