The starlines contracted, black and white reunited, and the world curled into a spherical shape. Maitreya’s gaze wavered, and suddenly, a glazed lamp reflected in his eyes. Its colors defied normal perception, brimming with the most ancient and weathered aura—the very source of all worldly entanglements: birth, aging, sickness, death, love, hatred, separation, and unfulfilled desires. It was the origin of all existence.
“The Cause of All Effects…” The name involuntarily surfaced in Maitreya’s mind as he watched the flawless, radiant ancient lamp rise slowly and settle behind the head of the Primordial Heavenly Venerable Meng Qi, atop the verdant tree bathed in clear light. The pristine halo deepened, gaining an air of mystery that compelled reverence.
Lost in contemplation for a long while, Maitreya finally regained his composure, clasped his hands, and said, “Congratulations, Heavenly Venerable, on the completion of the Three Seals.”
The pristine halo remained undisturbed, yet Maitreya felt as though Meng Qi’s gaze rested upon him, and a serene, transcendent voice echoed in his ears: “Thank you for your efforts, fellow Daoist.”
Relieved, Maitreya prepared to take his leave when the Primordial Heavenly Venerable Meng Qi continued, “I heard you once made a great vow, declaring, ‘I shall not ferry sentient beings, nor save the end times, nor seek the future’?”
At this, Maitreya’s heart stirred with unease. He couldn’t fathom why the exalted figure before him would suddenly bring this up. According to Amitabha’s instructions, his task was merely to deliver the karmic relic severed by the Lamp-Lighting Buddha, aiding Meng Qi in perfecting the Cause of All Effects and resolving their past enmity. Once done, he could depart. As for his own ascension to the Other Shore, it was too early to discuss—dependent on the unfolding situation and the arrival of the right opportunity.
Yet unexpectedly, the Primordial Heavenly Venerable had broached the subject himself…
Despite the whirlwind of thoughts, Maitreya maintained his amiable smile and replied respectfully, “Just as the Heavenly Venerable has said.”
As the Dao Unity Glazed Lamp took form, the countless golden lanterns floating around Meng Qi grew even more radiant. He spoke calmly, “Sentient beings remain unferried, the homeland still stands, and your great vow endures. Fellow Daoist, there is no need for undue haste. Remember, the path to the Other Shore lies within, not without.”
Maitreya shuddered, feeling as though struck by a wake-up call. Over the past century, his eagerness to reach the Other Shore had overshadowed his original purpose—to establish a Buddha-land on earth and ferry beings out of suffering. His vow was “not to seek the future,” not “not to attain the Other Shore.” If even his state of mind had subtly shifted, making him no longer true to himself, any attempt at transcendence would surely end in failure.
He must solidify his foundation, remain true to his original intent, and await the opportune moment!
“Thank you for your guidance, Heavenly Venerable.” Maitreya bowed solemnly.
Had the Primordial Heavenly Venerable Meng Qi offered counsel with the intent of aiding his ascension?
Was he linking this matter to Gu Xiaosang’s own path to enlightenment?
Deep in thought, Maitreya sensed no further words would be spoken in the Jade Pure Hall. Understanding that the conversation had concluded, he took his leave obediently.
Watching Maitreya’s retreating figure, Meng Qi’s eyes seemed to hold countless other realms. With a flick of his left hand, the Yellow Banner of Earth plummeted into the lower world, piercing through the depths of the Netherworld and landing in the grasp of the “True Lord of Clear Origin and Wondrous Dao,” Yang Jian.
Yang Jian, still disguised as the Blood Demon, smiled faintly at the treasure of Jade Void but made no move to leave the Netherworld.
Simultaneously, Meng Qi’s right hand reached out, summoning the illusory river of time—neither here nor there. From the depths of history, the Myriad World Knowledge Sphere of Kunlun’s Jade Void Palace emerged, trailing light, and settled into his palm, having evaded the Golden Emperor’s strike long ago.
Rippling with radiance, the luminous sphere ascended once more, reconnecting with countless Myriad World Communication Talismans, bridging the gap forged by time.
…
In a secluded cave abode, an elderly man with silver hair sat upon a cloud bed, expounding the martial essence of the “Spark Great Method” to his disciples.
Suddenly, a strange glow flickered from within his robes, as though something had regained vitality.
Startled, the elder reached into his garment and retrieved an object. Despite his grandmaster-level cultivation, his hands trembled uncontrollably, betraying his inner turmoil.
His disciples exchanged bewildered glances as their sect leader revealed a thin silver metal plate etched with inscrutable patterns.
“The Myriad World Communication Talisman is functional again? It’s truly functional again!” The elder took a deep breath and activated the plate, immersing his consciousness within. Scenes he had longed for reappeared before his eyes.
The Jianghu Teahouse, the Martial Courier Station, the Myriad World Marketplace, live-streaming platforms, martial tutorials, discussion groups—all lay before him, unchanged despite the passage of 168 years.
Opening a group chat, messages cascaded in, each bearing the avatar of a charming young woman:
“Can’t connect to the Myriad World Knowledge Sphere?”
“What about our New Year’s meeting?”
“Should I come to Pingjin to find you?”
“I’m in Pingjin, but they say your family moved overseas to the Immortal Realm…”
“I’m in the Immortal Realm, but I can’t find you…”
Some messages were days apart, others years, yet all were sent over 160 years ago—only now received.
Tears welled in the elder’s eyes as his hands shook violently.
168 years ago, he had found the love of his life, only for the Myriad World Communication Talisman to fail abruptly. His family, fearing the impending rule of the Luo Sect, fled to the Immortal Realm. Though he left letters behind and later attempted to contact her from their new home, his efforts went unanswered, severing all ties.
The thought of her frail figure journeying alone to Jiangdong in search of him pained his heart. Disregarding his disciples’ presence, he hastily typed, “Yingzhi, where are you now?”
A reply delayed by 160 years.
Then, her avatar lit up, sending his heart racing with hope.
A message arrived:
“Grandfather Cui? I’m the disciple of Grandmaster Lin Yingzhi. Before her passing a decade ago, she entrusted this to me, asking me to reply when the talisman worked again.”
Passed away… The elder’s heart sank as the world seemed to darken. “What was her message?”
The reply came swiftly:
“She never married in her lifetime.”
Tears streamed down the elder’s face, grief overwhelming him.
He was ten years too late—no, 168 years too late.
…
Across the world, elderly survivors re-entered the Myriad World Network, finding forums frozen in time 168 years ago. The rivals they once fiercely debated, the frequent posters they knew—all had passed, leaving some forums with but a lone survivor reminiscing in solitude.
Here lay the graves of their youth, their most spirited years. Now, after 168 years, who remained to share their sentiments?
Time was merciless, carving chasms of years.
In one group, messages remained intact. The sole surviving elder wept as he read past discussions, murmuring:
“Xiao Liu, didn’t you want to join the virtual martial tournament to make the Human Rankings?”
“Ku’er, weren’t you always talking about organizing a virtual combat ladder?”
…
“Why have you all left me behind?”
Suddenly, an avatar lit up:
“Anyone still here?”
The elder’s eyes widened. “Xiao Liu? You’re alive?”
“Nope, long dead,” came the cheerful reply. “But I’m in Master Xuanbei’s Pure Land Buddha-Realm. Finally, the talisman works again!”
This works too… The elder was torn between laughter and tears.
…
In the Pure Land adorned with red spider lilies (Lycoris radiata), an aura of tranquility pervaded, dissolving lingering grudges and obsessions.
Seated upon a golden lotus, Xuanbei chanted the “Ksitigarbha Soul-Saving Sutra” for the surrounding spirits, his gaze catching several secretly fiddling with their Myriad World Communication Talismans.
He smiled knowingly, pretending not to notice, and continued his recitation.
Suddenly, boundless glazed golden light descended from above as a vast, shattered Pure Land—far surpassing Xuanbei’s current realm—drifted into view, steeped in desolation.
“The remnants of Ksitigarbha’s Pure Land…” Xuanbei’s heart stirred.
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