Chapter 150: The Celestial Zen Technique

In truth, the majority of them still did not believe that Lin Fan would actually start a massive massacre. After all, even Qi Daolin, the top martial artist in the entire country, would not dare to do such a thing; could Lin Fan truly dare?

In their view, Lin Fan was merely employing a stratagem!

Therefore, even though they had been intimidated, following a loud roar, they still rushed toward Lin Fan without any hesitation, gripping their blades.

However, Zhao Dong would not come back to life to tell them whether Lin Fan was using a stratagem or not. He did not know, but his protective talisman—which could only be broken by a cultivator at the Stream Realm or above—had failed to block even a single instant of Lin Fan's attack.

"Heh, truly seeking one's own death!"

Lin Fan grinned. Suddenly, taking a stride forward, he held Thousand Piled Snow horizontally in his right hand and met the two to three hundred people charging at him.

"They're dead for sure!"

In the distance, Lin Hongyi suddenly spoke, her voice remarkably calm. This caused many of the surrounding students to look over, wondering why this little girl had such absolute confidence in Lin Fan.

Faced with the siege of so many powerful individuals, even an early-stage Stream Realm expert would be heavily injured or die from the exhaustion of their vital energy. Could Lin Fan really withstand this?

Furthermore, even though Lin Fan had killed Zhao Dong, doubt still lingered in their hearts: Did Lin Fan truly dare to strike so recklessly?!

"Hn!"

Without needing a response from the others, the six led by Xiao Beihan all nodded. No one understood Brother Fan better than they did.

Since Brother Fan and the others had said that today they came to start a massive massacre, then they would definitely dare to kill, and be fully capable of it!

Because Brother Fan never spoke empty words.

On the fifth floor of the Enlightening Mind Pagoda, one day was equivalent to ten days in the outside world. They had also cultivated inside for a month. Coupled with the fruits given by Brother Fan and the formidable cultivation techniques imparted to them previously, they had all reached the peak of the mid-stage Qi Meridian Realm.

Yet regarding their combat strength, they had the absolute confidence to go toe-to-toe with early-stage Pulse-Opening experts and instantly slaughter any practitioner in the Qi Meridian Realm!

All of this was solely due to that bottle of miraculous bloodline!

Presently, Xiao Beihan had been taught a technique by Lin Fan called Heavenly Zen. This was a method to accelerate cultivation that others could not possibly learn.

Heavenly Zen was divided into three realms: closing the eyes, closing the mouth, and closing the breath!

This was a choice Lin Fan made for Xiao Beihan's endless slaughter path, allowing him to advance rapidly along that path.

At the same time, it was specially compiled to prevent him from becoming trapped in the endless slaughter path and descending into a murderous demon.

This technique was an extremely powerful auxiliary technique that Lin Fan had witnessed in his past life. It shared the same ultimate goal as the endless slaughter path, and could not be cultivated by anyone lacking supreme perseverance.

On Earth in Lin Fan's past life, there was a legend about practicing Buddhism. It took place during the late Liang Dynasty, when the world was in great chaos, the flames of war raged everywhere, and the lives of the people were devastated. On this day, along an ancient path in the suburbs, an elderly monk walked all alone. Looking at the piles of white bones on both sides of the road, he could not help but let out a long sigh, mourning the countless disasters befalling the common people.

The old monk was named Wunian. He had cultivated in the Leiyan Temple since childhood. Showing remarkable spiritual roots at a young age, he was deeply valued by the senior Zen master of the temple, who took him as a disciple and imparted the Buddhist truths to him.

At the age of seven, his master asked him, "To cultivate Buddhism, one must practice Zen. There are five kinds of Zen: outer path Zen, ordinary Zen, lesser vehicle Zen, greater vehicle Zen, and the supreme Zen. Which one do you wish to practice?"

Wunian's single remark left the senior Zen master stunned: "I wish to practice the silent Zen of closed lips."

Flinging his sleeve in anger, the senior Zen master said, "Those who practice Buddhism must most avoid reckless speech. That silent Zen lies outside the five Zen practices and is the most difficult to cultivate. It requires immense concentration to achieve; it is not something a mere milk-toothed child like you can manage."

"I ask you once more, which Zen do you wish to practice?"

"Disciple wishes to practice silent Zen."

"Oh? Why?" The senior Zen master looked at Wunian and asked.

"Those who cultivate Buddhism must make the five aggregates empty and let go of everything before they can attain Buddhahood. If one neither speaks nor utters a word, neither seeks nor asks, with a mind untroubled by external things, then there will be no ripples within the heart, nor any seven emotions and six desires, nor the five aggregates and six defilements. With a single-minded devotion to practicing Buddhism, one can attain Buddhahood."

Upon hearing this, the senior Zen master was astonished that such words could come from the mouth of a mere child. Thinking that Wunian truly possessed a karmic affinity with Buddhism, he could not help but feel a growing fondness for him. His irritation dissipated, turning from anger to joy as he said, "Very well, it shall be as you wish."

Wunian pressed his palms together, bowed his head, and backed out of the room. From that day onward, he never spoke another word. Day after day, he accompanied the dim lamp and ancient Buddha in his room, practicing the Buddhist Dharma and ignoring worldly affairs. As time flew like arrows and the sun and moon chased each other, sixty years flashed by in the blink of an eye. Wunian also transformed from a milk-toothed child into an aging old monk. Although his understanding of the Buddhist Dharma had become profound, he remained utterly unable to attain the fruition of Buddhahood or comprehend the true meaning of Bodhi, leaving him in constant distress.

By this time, the senior Zen master had reached the advanced age of over one hundred and thirty. Frail, flickering like a candle in the wind, and facing his impending death, he called Wunian to his side and asked, "You have practiced silent Zen for sixty years; have you gained any insights?"

Wunian shook his head, his face filled with shame.

"Then why not go and temper yourself in the mortal world? Perhaps you will make some breakthroughs," the senior Zen master said once more. "Silent Zen is extremely difficult to cultivate, and everything hinges upon the word 'enlightenment.' If you break through the enlightenment, you will ascend to the Pure Land; if you fail to break through it, your body will perish and turn to dust. You are naturally intelligent and possess great spiritual roots; given time, you will surely attain Buddhahood."

Wunian nodded and knelt down, kowtowing three times to the senior Zen master to express his gratitude for his master's grace. Three days later, the senior Zen master passed into nirvana. Wunian then descended the mountain to wander the world, hoping to achieve enlightenment.

Yet after three years down the mountain, having witnessed the hardships of the mortal world and the sufferings of all living beings, and having helped many people and planted numerous good seeds, he still remained utterly unable to truly comprehend it, failing to grasp the true essence of the Buddhist Dharma. Instead, ripples gradually arose within his heart—he felt pity for the suffering masses and resentment toward the mercilessness of the heavenly dao. If this continued, not only would he fail to attain Bodhi, but he would also fall into the demonic path due to the resentment in his heart, turning his lifelong cultivation into nothingness. What should he do? Having practiced for half a lifetime, Wunian suddenly found himself lost.

Staring at the bleached bones lining the roadside, Wunian heaved a long sigh and continued on his way. After walking for about half an hour, he suddenly heard the sound of approaching hooves from behind. Looking back, he saw a band of ruthless bandits, each looking as fierce as a malevolent deity, brandishing swords and sabers as they swept past Wunian, galloping forward and nearly knocking him over.

Ahead lay a village. Wunian thought to himself that this was bad; these bandits were coming with fierce momentum and would likely do harm to the village. Hurriedly pressing forward, he arrived panting at the village entrance, only to find he was already too late. Cries of agonizing misery drifted from within the village, and in a mere moment, the entire settlement was completely slaughtered. Corpses littered the ground, blood flowed like rivers, and it looked for all the world like a living hell.

Amidst the chaotic times, human lives were as insignificant as ants, as worthless as blades of grass. Wunian shook his head, sighing endlessly. He sat cross-legged in the sea of corpses and mountains of blood, pressed his palms together, and silently recited the Rebirth Mantra to guide the wandering souls to reincarnation. At that moment, he suddenly heard the crying of a little girl ahead. Looking closely, he saw a girl of six or seven running while crying heartrendingly. Stumbling as she ran, she suddenly tripped and fell to the ground. Behind her, three bandits chased after her with blades, terrifying and tormenting her for their own amusement. Seeing the little girl frightened out of her wits and collapsed on the ground, they burst into raucous laughter.

Wunian stepped forward, helped the little girl to her feet, and stood before her to block her. In his heart, a sudden thought of resentment arose—he resented the three men before him for having human shapes yet lacking any human nature, making them no different from demons. Realizing that ripples had formed in his heart, Wunian hurriedly recited Buddhist mantras in his mind to calm his spirit.

"Old bald donkey, have you eaten the courage of a bear and a leopard? How dare you act so arrogant in front of Your Grandpa? Get lost!" one of the bandits shouted, raising his eyebrows.

Wunian remained motionless, still blocking the little girl, who tightly clutched the hem of his robe.

"Heh, I think you must be wanting to go to the Western Paradise! Your Grandpa has killed countless people in my day; today I'll do a good deed and send you on your way." With that, the bandit slashed his saber toward Wunian. Wunian still did not move, not even furrowing his brows.

However, the blade was blocked by another bandit. "Second Brother, these monks and Taoists are involved in all sorts of unfathomable mysteries; it's best not to provoke them. The boss told us to hurry and hand over the loot we seized. Let's get moving."

"Big Brother, what's the rush? Our brothers haven't finished having fun yet!"

"Second Brother, you don't understand. The rebel army is about to attack Lei City and is currently camped twenty miles south of the city. The boss wants to defect to the rebel army and offer the looted wealth as a grand tribute. If we hand it over late, it'll be too late."

Upon hearing this, Wunian felt a shock in his heart. That rebel army was brutally cruel; every time they captured a city, they would burn, kill, and plunder within it, committing all sorts of heinous crimes. It seemed Lei City was about to suffer this catastrophe as well.

"Old bald donkey, consider yourself lucky. We'll spare you for today, but if I see you again, I'll definitely send you to the Western Paradise." With that, the bandits mounted their horses and rode away.

Seeing the bandits depart, the little girl gradually recovered from her shock, but as if suddenly remembering something, she burst into tears like pear blossoms drenched in rain: "Daddy is dead... Mommy is dead... They were killed by the bad men."

Wunian sighed, gently stroked the little girl's head, and thought that if she were a boy, he could still take her in as a disciple. But being a girl, keeping her by his side presented numerous inconveniences, and he feared it would draw criticism and violate Buddhist doctrines. Yet if he ignored her, how could she possibly survive in this chaotic era?

What on earth should he do?