It was the ninth month, the third autumn season, where the hills were ablaze with red leaves, the sky was high and the air refreshingly crisp—an ideal time for travel, rare and precious.
Shaolin held the preeminent position in martial arts across the land and, as a Buddhist Chan sect, did not claim the entire mountain range exclusively for itself, barring firewood gatherers, hunters, and herbalists from entering. Thus, deep within the rear mountains, external experts often captured venomous creatures to train, while the front mountains frequently saw tourists. Only after passing the Half-Mountain Pavilion and nearing the main temple compound did monks begin patrolling, politely barring further access to unrelated individuals.
At this moment, still some distance from the Half-Mountain Pavilion, the sound of chirping birds reached Hutuktu’s ears. Looking up, he saw white mist drifting through a secluded valley, ancient evergreen trees, and vast stretches of crimson maple leaves. Beside him, tourists occasionally ascended or descended. Everything exuded a leisurely charm, revealing true delight within the ordinary, causing Hutuktu—who bore the title of “Living Buddha”—to linger involuntarily, sighing at the impermanence of life while savoring the rare tranquility of worldly peace and inner serenity.
This feeling prompted him to conceal his aura, appearing like an ordinary old monk, or a common traveler—serene, content, and utterly devoid of any trace of a Dharma Body. As a result, no one recognized or noticed that the once-top-ranked figure on the Celestial List, the “Living Buddha” Hutuktu, had quietly arrived at Shaolin.
At this moment, in such a state, Hutuktu finally experienced a sense of completeness and harmony—an inner clarity and purity that forty years of secluded cultivation and recovery had failed to grant. The moment of enlightenment seemed to flicker on the horizon, as if sudden awakening might occur at any moment!
Step by step, his body and mind gradually elevated. Already indistinguishable from ordinary tourists, he could foresee that by the time he reached Shaolin’s main gate, this feeling of harmony and perfection would peak. For the MiFo sect, which emphasized psychic abilities, there could hardly be a better awakening.
Precisely because of this, when he suddenly encountered a middle-aged man in a green robe with streaks of gray at his temples, and a sword-wielding woman dressed in pale yellow, he paid them little heed. The former, aside from a lingering Buddhist aura, appeared just as ordinary as most of the other tourists he had encountered. As for the swordswoman, though her aura was restrained yet sharp, marking her as a rare expert in the current world, she still did not warrant his attention.
Thus, with a cheerful heart, he anticipated drawing confidence and momentum from victories over both old “friends” and new “friends,” and “carelessly” passed them by. The other party seemingly failed to notice that the “Living Buddha” of this era was walking right past them.
Everything remained perfect until this point—peaceful and without incident, everything unfolding exactly as he had envisioned, the light of the future illuminating his mind.
However, at this moment, Hutuktu made a decision that would alter the entire landscape of the martial world, completely shifting the trajectory of his anticipated path.
Once, an ideal opportunity had been placed before him, but he had failed to cherish it. Only after losing it did he realize the importance of choice and the need for careful deliberation—even if the decision seemed trivial at the time.
After passing the man and woman without incident, Hutuktu took a few more steps when suddenly his heart stirred. He recognized the unique sharpness within the swordswoman’s aura—identifying the sect it belonged to.
Xijian Pavilion? Should he greet them? This seemingly trivial thought crossed his mind.
It was insignificant, nothing compared to the importance of challenging Kongwen. There was no need to greet them.
Yet, since it was a small matter, and involved someone connected to an old acquaintance, how could he not greet them? To pass by silently would be like wearing brocade at night. Moreover, in his current state, it was best to act upon every thought without disturbing his inner peace or disrupting his harmonious, perfect state.
These two thoughts arose simultaneously, and Hutuktu instantly made his choice—he turned to greet the Xijian Pavilion half-Dharma Body, while the green-robed man beside her was of no consequence.
He turned his head and smiled at Jiang Zhiwei, saying, “This old monk has long been absent from the martial world. I never expected Xijian Pavilion to have produced such talent. How is Zhou Taichong these days?”
Jiang Zhiwei and Meng Qi halted, turned around, and looked at this tall, thin old monk dressed like a monk from a foreign Buddhist sect. Previously, when they had not paid him much attention, they hadn’t noticed anything unusual. But now, upon closer inspection, they saw that beneath his dark skin lay a faint golden hue, and his eyes shimmered with an unusual bluish tint, exuding a strange, otherworldly charm. Compared to the Dharma Body experts they had encountered, he no longer seemed ordinary.
A Dharma Body? From a foreign Buddhist sect? Jiang Zhiwei exchanged a glance with Meng Qi, who was watching the old monk with a faint smile of admiration. She then solemnly asked, “Could you be the revered Hutuktu, the Living Buddha of this era?”
“Indeed, it is this old monk,” Hutuktu replied with a slight nod. “You are so young yet already a half-Dharma Body. Xijian Pavilion has truly produced an exceptional talent. Although I have been in retreat for many years, my disciples have regularly informed me of events in the martial world. Why have I never heard of someone like you?”
His tone was calm, showing none of the imposing or ambiguous aura typical of a high-level expert.
“So that’s Hutuktu. No wonder earlier, when he was immersed in a profound state and completely concealed his aura, I failed to detect his extraordinariness,” Meng Qi transmitted mentally, filled with admiration.
Jiang Zhiwei nodded and replied, “He is the former sect leader of the MiFo sect. I once fought against his disciple, the Wheel-Turning Living Buddha. Their lineage emphasizes psychic power and mental cultivation, practicing the “Three Lives Bright King Manual.” Their martial arts are closer to supernatural abilities, capable of directly pulling opponents into a mental world for battle, subjecting them to terrifying trials. A moment’s carelessness could lead to complete loss and eternal entrapment in a ‘hellish’ state…”
She shared all her experiences from that battle with Meng Qi without answering Hutuktu’s question, knowing that Meng Qi would speak in her place.
Meng Qi smiled at Hutuktu and bowed slightly with his hands clasped together. “So it’s the revered Living Buddha. May I ask what brings you to Shaolin?”
His aura gradually spread outward, like a sea’s eye or a chaotic vortex, endlessly spewing forth waves or nurturing all things.
Hutuktu’s eyes, shimmering with a bluish hue, narrowed. His full attention now shifted entirely from Jiang Zhiwei.
This person was actually a Dharma Body!
He had casually greeted a disciple of Xijian Pavilion and encountered a Dharma Body!
And a Dharma Body he had never even heard of before!
Regarding half-Dharma Bodies, he could somewhat understand due to his long retreat and limited awareness. But how many Dharma Bodies were there in total? Each was a force capable of influencing the entire martial world. How could he have overlooked this one?
“What is the honorable gentleman’s name?” Hutuktu actively elevated his harmonious and complete state.
His psychic intuition warned him that this was an extremely formidable opponent, even stronger than Kongwen.
Meng Qi did not answer directly but instead smiled and asked, “The Living Buddha opposes the Central Plains. Coming to Shaolin, you surely wouldn’t have come without purpose. Could it be that you intend to challenge Abbot Kongwen?”
“Precisely,” Hutuktu replied candidly, a testament to the confidence accumulated from years of holding the top spot on the Celestial List.
Meng Qi naturally let his hands drop to his sides. His skin was pale and smooth, like polished jade. His gaze seemed to conceal thunderstorms, locking eyes with Hutuktu’s strange, bluish, glass-like pupils. He smiled faintly and said, “If that’s the case, how about I, on behalf of Abbot Kongwen, spar with the Living Buddha?”
“Very well!” Hutuktu did not show the slightest hesitation, his confidence unwavering.
Although his intuition warned him that this opponent was formidable and terrifying, he had also broken through the limitations of the “Three Lives Bright King Manual” and achieved full mastery, nearing the attainment of a Bodhisattva’s fruit. His cultivation and techniques had surpassed normal expectations, and he now required a powerful enemy to unleash his full potential!
In his hand appeared a black wheel adorned with eerie patterns and inlaid with the seven treasures of Buddhism. Holding it felt like grasping the sun itself.
Suddenly, the world changed. The scenic beauty around Meng Qi vanished, and even the Shaolin temple disappeared from his perception.
Hutuktu hovered midair, revealing his “Destroyer of Three Worlds Vajra Form”—with three faces, eight arms, entirely blue in color, with invisible wrathful flames burning around him. Each hand made a different mudra, exuding both solemn sanctity and eerie profundity.
“The Wheel of the Three Bright Kings,” Hutuktu announced in a deep voice, introducing his divine weapon.
The “Destroyer” in Destroyer of Three Worlds did not mean “descending,” but rather “subduing.” It could conquer the greed, anger, and resentment across past, present, and future lifetimes. It excelled in psychic and spiritual power, serving as the wrathful manifestation of Akshobhya Buddha, just as Fudō Myōō is the wrathful form of Mahāvairocana. It was said that this form specifically counteracted the Great Lord of Freedom, which is why many statues of the Destroyer of Three Worlds had symbolic representations of the Great Lord beneath their feet.
Precisely because of this, while the Great Lord of Freedom represented imagination becoming reality, the Destroyer of Three Worlds pulled opponents directly into the realm of imagination—into a mental world. Such a battle was indeed mysterious and unpredictable, where victory or defeat sometimes depended solely on one’s mental cultivation, not necessarily on actual cultivation level.
At this moment, Meng Qi had already been drawn by Hutuktu into his mental and spiritual world!
Within this realm, Hutuktu was the absolute sovereign. Within a certain range, whatever he imagined would manifest!
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