Journey to the West: Starting by taking Sun Wukong as my disciple!-Chapter 332: Xuan Feng, the Blacksmith—Who is This Person?
"I..." Xuan Feng’s face flickered with a hint of embarrassment. She had tried, indeed, and the scrapped ironware was still cluttering her room!
Not to mention the mess she made, she hadn’t succeeded in a single attempt. Her talent for artifact refining seemed hopelessly inadequate!
It was crystal clear to her, but whenever she started the refining process, her hands would feel as though they didn’t belong to her.
"Never mind, you don’t need to fetch the pot anymore." Suddenly, Nuwa spoke again.
"Ah, what?" Xuan Feng looked utterly confused. If she didn’t fetch it, then what would she eat?
She had skipped her meals today just for the sake of enjoying this hot pot.
Before Xuan Feng could react, Nuwa summoned a piece of fine iron, and in the next moment, fierce flames erupted from her palm, enveloping the fine iron.
The rolling heat waves even made Xuan Feng, standing a few steps away, feel unbearably scorched.
Xuan Feng’s pupils contracted. The temperature of this flame— not even their Phoenix Clan’s Divine Fire, the South Ming Li Fire, could compare!
She truly deserved to be revered as a goddess!
But... what was the goddess doing? Xuan Feng wondered, her gaze fixed intently on the fine iron in Nuwa’s hands.
Under the searing heat, the fine iron started to morph continuously, changing from a block into a disc, then slowly bending and rising.
After a while, the flames went out, and the fine iron had been heated until it was glowing red-hot.
That wasn’t the end of it. Nuwa hovered her palm over it, and soon a layer of frost formed, cooling down the fine iron rapidly, turning it a pitch-black color.
With a gentle wave of her other hand, the black layer on the surface started to flake off, revealing the metallic luster beneath.
"Take this, use it."
Nuwa pointed with her finger, pushing the refined piece of fine iron towards Xuan Feng.
Xuan Feng looked closely and the more she looked, the more familiar it became. Her mouth slightly agape and her eyes filled with astonishment.
This... this is!
It was the pot from Shopkeeper Chen’s blueprints! Swiftly stepping forward, Xuan Feng picked up the pot and inspected it closely, noting that it was an exact match!
Delighted in her heart, Xuan Feng promptly bowed to Nuwa: "Thank you, Your Grace!"
"It’s nothing." Nuwa said indifferently, watching the jubilant Xuan Feng when suddenly, she thought of something.
"Feng’er, haven’t you had your hot pot yet?"
"Yes." Xuan Feng nodded, "I hadn’t had it earlier because there was no pot."
"Then have it with me today." Nuwa’s voice was soft, the corners of her lips turning up slightly, captivatingly beautiful.
She had originally intended to order hot pot today too but ended up changing her mind for something else. This was a good opportunity to try out the flavor.
Upon hearing Nuwa’s words, Xuan Feng looked troubled and did not agree immediately; instead, she hesitated.
"Your Grace, I..." Xuan Feng’s lips were pursed, and her hands tightly clenched her sleeves, a sense of forlornness rising in her heart.
She had just this one meal for two days. Was Her Grace really going to claim it?
Now that Nuwa had stopped providing the Power of the Saint, Xuan Feng would have to recover her vital blood on her own. This hot pot was essentially her last indulgence!
Nuwa gently pushed her own food box forward, placing it in the middle of the table: "I won’t have your share without giving something in return. You can have mine as well."
"But, Your Grace..."
"A portion of the Power of the Saint for you, every day." Nuwa didn’t even lift an eyelid.
"Enjoy your meal, Your Grace!"
...
"Fate is self-forged, appearance arises from the mind; all things in the world are but transformations, if the heart does not stir, nothing stirs; if the heart does not change, nothing changes."
In a debate hall on Spirit Mountain, a group of monks clad in kasayas were sitting on meditation cushions, forming a circle. Each of them wore a respectful expression, quietly listening to the words of the person in the center.
The central figure was also a monk, but his lips were red, teeth white, and his face as fair as jade—his golden kasaya draped over his body, exuding a unique and ethereal aura.
The corners of his mouth held a faint smile, as if everything was clear in his heart.
Jin Chanzi, the second disciple of Tathagata.
"Sitting, one practices Zen; walking, one also practices Zen. In one flower lies a world, in one leaf a Tathagata. In spring, the flowers turn green; come autumn the leaves drift away. Infinite prajna heart freely, in speech and silence, in movement and stillness, the natural body you will find." Jin Chanzi murmured softly as he twirled Buddha beads in his left hand.
As his voice faded, facing the crowd with furrowed brows in deep contemplation, Jin Chanzi smiled slightly, stood up, and walked away.
"Dharma is the Conditional Dharma; the extent of understanding is all due to causes; there’s no need to force it. When the heart is still and pure, one will naturally come to understand."
The monks who had been listening as if intoxicated quickly opened their eyes and returned the departing figure of Jin Chanzi with a Buddhist gesture of respect.
"Amitabha!" The excitement in their hearts was beyond words.
In the secular world, they were all abbots of great temples, yet almost all had meager cultivation or none at all.
They had thought that being able to attend the grandest Dharma feast of Buddhism in their lifetime was a stroke of incredible fortune, to explore the Buddhist Law and improve their cultivation, or even gain some opportunities for practice.
However, upon arriving at Spirit Mountain after many hardships, they discovered that, aside from being admitted and receiving the simplest food and drink each day, they basically could do nothing.
Although they saw the real forms of the Golden Body Statues they used to worship in the temple halls, those Buddha and Bodhisattvas were all powerful beings, who wouldn’t impart the Buddhist Law to them.
Each time they tried to approach, they were stopped by the attendants who accompanied them. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎
Day after day, it continued like this, until later on, these similarly unfortunate souls gathered together to discuss among themselves.
Not until the arrival of this great master did their conversations come to a halt, as his first words of Buddhist principle deeply impressed them.
Afterwards, he preached the Dharma to them, resolving all the confusions in their hearts. His comprehension of the Buddhist Law was the highest they had ever seen.
When they could no longer see Jin Chanzi’s figure, an abbot murmured, "This master seems to be a highly cultivated one as well, and his understanding of the Buddhist Law is extraordinary."
"Why has this poor monk never seen him in the Golden Buddha Statues of my temple? Do you know why?"
His temple was considered quite prestigious and had an extensive collection of Buddha statues, including those of the Arhats, yet he had never seen this master before.
Hearing this, the abbots of the other temples also shook their heads; they had no such statue in their temples either.
They might not have met the renowned figures in person, yet they could recognize them from the origins of the Buddhist Law and the Golden Body Statues.
However, this seemingly young master was someone they had never encountered before.
Jin Chanzi left the debate hall and wandered aimlessly on Spirit Mountain. He passed by some Bodhisattvas and Buddhas deeply engaged in conversation but had no interest in approaching them.
To him, they were unbearably dull—each one presuming themselves to be profound in the Buddhist Law, yet none could defeat him in debate, and they wouldn’t admit it either.
Instead, they focused on criticizing the new doctrines he had derived, deeming them heretical.
Little did they realize he had gained victory using existing Buddhist principles, interspersed with his own understandings—a habit of his.
Jin Chanzi believed he was not in the wrong. The reason he was not acknowledged wasn’t that his rationale was lacking depth, but because he was not a Buddha.
Only once one became a Buddha would one’s words be recognized as Buddhist principles; this was what these people adhered to.
Debate the Buddhist Law with them?
A disdainful expression crossed Jin Chanzi’s gentle and refined face; it was but a waste of time.
Rather than that, he would prefer to do as he had just done, resolving doubts and imparting knowledge to the monks who had come from the secular world.
Since Spirit Mountain had announced the forthcoming spread of the Dharma, many practitioners of Buddhism had arrived early, eager to explore the Buddhist Law. Over these past days, this was what he had been doing.
