Chapter 51: The Buddhist Monk Ryuno

I am sinking in the moonlight, while you are graceful among the spring blossoms;
I linger in the scriptures, while you bow down in the sea of flowers;
Your love is lighter than air, more illusory and ethereal than white clouds.

As the story goes, after speaking with Huizhi, Longye decided to stay at Xiudu Temple, sharing meals, lodging, scripture chanting, and Dharma teachings with the resident monks every day. As his mind gradually found peace, he discarded his sword, converted to Buddhism, had his head shaved by Master Huizhi, and finally became a monk.

Longye severed all earthly attachments, donned monk's robes, pressed his palms together in prayer, and kept the Buddhist philosophy in his heart. He willingly swept the grounds of Xiudu Temple, keeping solitary vigil before ancient lamps and bronze buddhas with pious devotion, quietly reciting penitential sutras. He sought answers in Buddhist gatha and dissolved his loves and hatreds each time he brought his palms together before his chest.

Let those wretched past events drift away with the current; let those bewildered and lost bygone days vanish like smoke! Let the flowers bloom as they will, and let the rain fall as it pleases.

Longye admonished himself to stop loving Meng Xiaoli, chanting scriptures with frenzied obsession. He chanted at dawn, he chanted at dusk, and even awoke from midnight dreams to resume his chanting. The harder he tried to sever the thoughts, the more vividly they surfaced in his mind. The faster Longye beat the wooden fish, the more chaotic his heart became, as if loving Meng Xiaoli had become intertwined with life and breath, mutually dependent and indispensable for survival.

Outside the hall, the rain fell in torrents; inside, the ascetic yearned with sorrow. Sitting cross-legged, Longye counted prayer beads while fervently chanting scriptures, tears streaming down as if his heart were being churned by a blade, weeping uncontrollably. Longye knew in his heart that his grief stemmed not from still loving her, but from the inability to love her.

High upon the altar, the Buddha gazed downward with compassionate eyes, pitying all sentient beings in their suffering, sympathizing with the pain of the mortal world. Suffering, clinging, attachment—only by letting go can one escape their bondage. Yet between grasping and letting go lay the agony of a thousand pierced arrows. Things remained, but the people had changed; the heart was full of worldly vicissitudes, and the passing years were mottled with scars.

So it was that Longye took monastic vows at Xiudu Temple, sealing his love for Meng Xiaoli deep within his heart, severing all worldly affinities, and willingly vowing to maintain pious devotion for one person alone, swearing never to become a faithless betrayer.

Meanwhile, ever since Meng Xiaoli slaughtered the entire "Demon Exorcism Team" that had raided Isolated Island, the news had spread and sparked intense debate among various martial arts sects in the pugilistic world. The Demon Yan Ghost Ji and the Crimson Cult became the sole topic of conversation during tea and leisure across the jianghu. Eventually, several arrogant martial artists who fancied themselves superior to the crowd traveled to Isolated Island on various pretexts to challenge Meng Xiaoli.

Whenever Meng Xiaoli stepped beyond the island, followers would trail behind her, hurling provocations, insults, and criticisms that never ceased. Finding this endlessly vexing, Meng Xiaoli summoned her strategist, Ji Hongluan, to discuss the matter. Ji Hongluan advised her, "Why not set up an arena outside Yuanzhou City? Anyone who refuses to submit may come and fight, with a two-day limit. Given the Cult Leader's formidable strength, you must let them witness it with their own eyes to truly command respect." Confident in her martial prowess, Meng Xiaoli agreed to Ji Hongluan's proposal and leaked word of the arena duel.

Upon receiving the news, factions across the jianghu grew eager and brimming with fighting spirit. Eccentric adepts and martial heroes from all directions seized the opportunity to head toward the Yuanzhou prefecture to accept the challenge.

When the monk Longye learned that Meng Xiaoli had established an arena outside the outskirts of Yuanzhou City, his mind grew restless day and night. Longye worried that hidden dragons and crouching tigers abounded in the martial arts world, fearing that Meng Xiaoli might grow arrogant and underestimate her foes; swords and blades are merciless, and a momentary lapse could cost her life. He also worried that Meng Xiaoli's current temperament was volatile and merciless, slaughtering the innocent without restraint, which would ruin her reputation, make her countless enemies, and leave her standing on the perilous peak where everyone glared with hostile intent.

Longye longed to depart immediately to stop her, yet having severed worldly ties and entered monkhood, he ought to devote himself to Buddhist cultivation and quiet self-reflection, seeking enlightenment from Dharma principles. How could he still dwell on past karma? Every surge of emotion threatened to undo all his prior efforts. Tormented by persistent anxiety, he found it exceedingly difficult to achieve inner stillness.

After much deliberation, Longye privately sought out Master Huizhi before his sleeping mat and offered a pious bow. Before Longye could even speak, Master Huizhi, sitting cross-legged, smiled faintly and said, "You have finally come." Then, he slowly opened his eyes and motioned for Longye to sit before him.

Longye likewise crossed his legs in front of Master Huizhi, the two sitting face to face. Gazing at Master Huizhi, who had been resting his eyes, Longye asked in return, "Did the Master know this disciple was coming?"

Without opening his eyes, Master Huizhi wore a faint smile and replied, "Your mind has drifted during your daily devotions these past few days. I knew your severing of worldly ties was genuine, but I feared that apart from one person in this world, nothing else could disturb your pious devotion."

Lowering his eyes and closing them, Longye sighed, "This disciple has discarded his sword, sealed his worldly heart, and wished only to devote himself entirely to Buddhist philosophy." Only then did Master Huizhi open his eyes to look at the meditating Longye, smiling as he asked, "If that were true, why have you come to seek me out?" Keeping his eyes closed yet hanging his head low, Longye remained speechless for a moment.

Master Huizhi stated bluntly, "This impoverished monk knew that when you took your monastic vows, your worldly ties were not yet severed. Yet, to save you, I still chose to keep you here."

With his head bowed in silence, Master Huizhi smiled, turned his gaze toward the scenery outside the window, and continued, "I know for whom your Buddhist scriptures are chanted, and for whom your wooden fish is struck. If you had truly let go, why torment yourself with sorrow over her?"

Knowing he could conceal nothing from Master Huizhi, Longye opened his eyes, cast his gaze downward, shook his head gently, and confessed, "For this disciple to cultivate Buddhist philosophy with a distracted mind is truly a desecration of the Buddha!"

Meeting Longye's gaze levelly, Huizhi asked, "Why did you become a monk?" Gazing into the void, Longye pondered, "To forget the past and start anew."

Master Huizhi shook his head and corrected him, "No, you do not want to forget the past, nor can you forget it. Your entry into monkhood is merely a means to punish yourself, to avoid failing the person you love, and to repent through Buddhist scriptures."

Keeping his head bowed throughout, Longye felt his secret exposed by Master Huizhi and buried his gaze even deeper. Reaching out with his right hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, he let out a deep sigh and said, "Buddhist teachings instruct me in universal love, yet I care only for selfish affection."

Master Huizhi gently consoled him, "Buddhist teachings are vast and inclusive. They exist to foster ideological progress, to repent past shortcomings, to soothe the deep wounds of years past, and to fathom the destiny of the future. The Dharma embraces all human emotions. If a person truly lives with such broadmindedness—broadmindedness enough to comprehend Buddhist philosophy—then beating the wooden fish in anguish is merely a formality. Cultivating Buddhism out of a sense of flaw is nothing to be ashamed of."

Huizhi's gentle comfort brought a flush to the rims of Longye's youthful eyes. Choking up for a moment, Longye spoke, "This disciple truly wished to forget the past, start anew, and study the Dharma with a sincere heart. Yet my monkey mind and restless horse of thoughts always wander, and a single shadow lingers persistently day and night."

Master Huizhi calmly expounded, "Is human life not simply thus? Without experiencing love and hatred firsthand, how can one comprehend love and hatred? Without experiencing suffering firsthand, how can one know that all in this world is bitter? The Dharma urges people toward goodness, peace and stillness in conduct, and understanding toward others. If you do not experience all this, you cannot empathize. To speak empty words of compassion—who would ever truly comprehend them? Experience is a grace, and realization is a reward. If some wounds cannot be removed, carry them with you; they do not conflict with the Dharma." With that, Master Huizhi picked up a cup of green tea, extended it toward the window, and slowly poured the cold tea over the wild flowers blooming beneath the eaves. Softly, he continued, "Perhaps one day you will suddenly achieve enlightenment. That person is like flowing water; before you know it, you will release her from the river of your heart, and only then will you understand that it was you who kept her imprisoned in the river of your heart all along, painstakingly building embankments. What you cannot let go of is simply yourself; it is you who refuse to let her shadow depart!"

With reddened eyes, Longye stared at the teacup in Huizhi's hand, watching the water flow through a notched rim into the patch of wild flowers beneath the eaves. His mind felt lost and wistful. Gazing at the stubbornly thriving flowers outside the window—those he listened to reciting scriptures and expounding the Dharma beneath Master Huizhi's eaves day after day—it seemed as though the petals were blooming and smiling warmly at him.

Meng Xiaoli was precisely that flower meant to thrive wildly. Without Longye, she should have lived even better. He should set her free; Longye no longer yearned to reunite their old love. Yet Longye could not set his mind at ease; even with her tenacious resilience, she remained vulnerable to wind and rain.

In the end, it was the mistake he had committed that forced Meng Xiaoli to establish a cult, rule with brutal tyranny, and become a universally reviled female demon. Even if it was no longer for Longye's sake now, the root cause had originated with Longye. Longye did not wish to see Meng Xiaoli continue her slaughter, nor did he wish for anyone in this world to harm her.

Longye sighed to Huizhi, "This disciple understands why he suffers. This disciple feels guilt toward her in his heart and wishes to make amends, yet suffers because those amends cannot be made." Raising his head to look earnestly at Master Huizhi, Longye pleaded, "This disciple wishes to seek her out—not for any other reason, but simply to keep her safe."

Master Huizhi's profound gaze was pregnant with meaning. A smile graced his face as he looked back at Longye. Without answering aloud, Huizhi countered with a question: "Where are you going?"
"Yuanzhou!" Longye replied without a moment's hesitation.

Looking at Longye with deep contemplation, Huizhi wore a smile that seemed almost pleased upon hearing this answer, gazing intently into Longye's absent-minded eyes. Huizhi had heard that a bustling arena duel was causing a great uproar in Yuanzhou City, and further heard that the Demon Yan Ghost Ji had led her people to slaughter a common woman and a child. This incident had provoked intense public outrage among the populace; under the Demon Yan Ghost Ji's blade, life—whether young or old, noble or humble—seemed never to be accounted for, making her entirely a heinous female demon.

Huizhi surmised in his mind that the lover on Longye's lips was most likely the fiercely prominent Demon Yan Ghost Ji of the jianghu. If she truly was the Demon Yan Ghost Ji, then Longye's former wife and child might already be dead.

Probing further, Huizhi asked Longye, "One Buddha and one demon are destined to stand on opposite sides. If all this is truly of your own making, and what is lost cannot be mended, will you still persist in doing this? Even if it means compounding error upon error?"

Longye did not understand how Huizhi could raise such a question, but he seemed to have found the answer to his suffering. The Buddha could not save him, nor could forgetting; the only thing that could save him was love—wholehearted love, without regret or remorse, even if this love could yield no result at all. Continuing to love had become Longye's only way out.

Gazing at the distant, boundless azure sky, where Meng Xiaoli's brows and eyes seemed to float amidst the clouds, Longye replied calmly, "I love her, and it has nothing to do with her; I protect her, and it has nothing to do with the rest of the world. I care not whether she is demon or Buddha; it is enough that I alone know she is Meng Xiaoli."

At the utterance of the three words "Meng Xiaoli," Huizhi's brows and eyes trembled slightly, confirming his inner conjecture. Gazing at Longye, Huizhi weighed in his heart what weight Longye held in Meng Xiaoli's heart, and what odds of success Longye stood to gain on this journey. If love was a war, the one unwilling to let go was always the one who suffered the deepest wounds.

Huizhi could only sigh, "If your mind is made up, this impoverished monk cannot stop you. Yet I will ask you one last time: Do you understand compassion? Showing compassion to the world is easy; showing compassion to oneself is hard!"

At the moment, Longye did not grasp the meaning behind Huizhi's words, and merely nodded ignorantly, saying, "Perhaps!" Shaking his head in response, Huizhi stood up and walked into the inner room. Soon, Huizhi emerged holding a broadsword—a weapon unremarkable in appearance, yet entirely unsharpened.

Extending the blade toward Longye, Huizhi watched as Longye quickly stepped forward to receive it with both hands. Huizhi said, "This impoverished monk knows that wherever you go on this journey, swords and blades will inevitably be drawn. If you protect Meng Xiaoli, you make an enemy of the entire world. Yet I do not wish to see you slaughter the innocent out of love and harm all living beings. This unsharpened broadsword is the one I used when I roamed the jianghu in my youth. Though for certain purposes I was compelled to kill, I hope that you will show compassion with your blade and stop when enough is done. Though I held the blade in my hand, I did so solely to uphold justice, and there has never been a death beneath this sword. Now that you have no weapon in hand, I bestow upon you this Buddhist blade. I hope you too will walk the jianghu carrying this conviction, keeping a shred of compassion in your heart—for that is a form of forgiveness toward yourself."

Humbled by the instruction, Longye accepted the Buddhist blade, strapped it across his back, and bowed to Master Huizhi. "This disciple will strictly heed the Master's teachings." With that, casting one final look at Master Huizhi, who had so painstakingly exhorted him toward goodness, Longye turned and departed from Xiudu Temple, setting foot on the road toward Yuanzhou.