Nightfall

Chapter 947: Man Must be Resolute and Broad-Minded

Translator: Larbre Studio Editor: Larbre Studio

The sutra was so short that it contained only one sentence. The slaves were chanting it in a unique way. They read every word with a full stop. They exclaimed the first word and paused. When people assumed there were no further words they exclaimed again.

It was similar to how thunder rumbled in the sky.

Hundreds of soldier monks were chanting, “The Buddha is compassionate” while their robes were fluttering in the wind. They sounded firm in their beliefs of Buddhism but showed no compassion. They were enraged like vajras and overwhelmingly powerful.

Thousands of slaves were chanting as one and almost countered the calling for Buddha. It generated endless courage while they swayed their crude weapons towards the soldier monks.

With calling for Buddha, the soldier monks appeared like living Buddhas descending into the human world.

The word by word chanting thundered and the ordinary human beings proceeded like ghosts coming out of the hell.

Blood flooded the wilderness and the battle became even fiercer. Colors drained from the faces of the nobles standing aside, for they would have never imagined those lowly slaves could fight so fiercely against the living Buddhas coming from the divine hill.

The Elders from the Commandment Hall could not understand how these sinful slaves had become so courageous and could stand against the power of hundreds of soldier monks who kept calling for Buddha. They appeared like numerous ferocious ghosts and Shuras from an ocean of blood.

Qi Nian looked even more serious. He tried so hard to listen to their chanting and finally figured out it was merely a few words rather than a sutra.

“Man! Must! Be! Resolute! And! Broad-minded!”

It was a very simple sentence with only six words, while the meaning was profound. It would take hundreds of years for someone to comprehend it thoroughly, which was so powerful that even the calling for Buddha was overpowered.

The nobles could not understand, neither did the Elders from Commandment Hall or Qi Nian. But Qi Nian recalled that the former Qi Mei used to mention that years ago, Mr. First from the Academy achieved enlightenment during the battle in front of the White Tower Temple, and overpowered the Chief Monk of Scripture’s Buddha’s teaching with some very simple words.

Mr. First said, “The Headmaster would never talk about the extraordinary, the miraculous, the disordered, or spiritual.”

Qi Nian instinctively recalled this and wondered if what the rebels said were also some words of the Headmaster. Even if they were, how could that man have reached such a high level of cultivation?

Yet he was wrong. The words that resounded in the fields that brought the slaves courage and firm beliefs were not said by the Headmaster, but rather by that person himself. It was not said by the Headmaster but rather his own self-discipline and his expectation for human beings. It carried his lifelong spirit and vision. When thousands of people said it together, it became thunder.

Man must be resolute and broad-minded.

Although the men fighting in the battlefield had been slaves for generations and were not cultivated men at all, upon saying those words, they became noble.

Therefore they had morale.

The slaves fought like thunder against the beaten cavalrymen and the monks who used to be like living Buddhas to them.

In the scriptures, the Buddha used to describe the thunder in the sky as the scrubbing or clashing of clouds and sky. But today the thunder came from blades going against blades.

Dust floated above the Wilderness. All of a sudden, an iron sword showed up.

The iron sword was so straight that no other worldly existence could be straighter than it.

It was so thick that it seemed like a chunk of hard iron rather than a sword.

The iron sword whistled through the air.

A soldier monk held up his cudgel against it. Upon a thundering sound, the iron cudgel was smashed and the soldier monk was thrown to the ground. He vomited blood and died in no time, with cracking sounds coming from every part of his body.

Ten iron cudgels flew up to press against the iron sword.

The sword lifted its tip proudly. In a single stab and thunder, the ten cudgels were slumped and scattered in the field, and disappeared in the wild grass.

The ten soldier monks were swept to nowhere.

The leader of the soldier monks shouted out and stared with his angry eyes. Looking like a Buddha’s lion, he cohered massive Qi of Heaven and Earth into his iron cudgel and pouched toward that iron sword.

Right then, a hand reached out from the smoky dust and got hold of the hilt of the iron sword. It was a hand with slender fingers and wide palm. Its holding onto the iron sword looked indescribably harmonious.

If there could be a description for such a harmony, it would be innateness.

From inside the smoky dust, a man showed up. He held the iron sword and with a random sway, he warded off the leading soldier monk’s cudgel that carried a massive amount of Qi of Heaven and Earth.

Upon the crash of the iron sword and the iron cudgel, fire sparked and thunder rumbled. Then there was a second of silence.

The leader of the soldier monks felt a horrifying power coming from the cudgel. It felt furious yet calm and organized.

He knew he could be no match to such an enemy and was doomed to fail. Yet being the most powerful figure from the Commandment Hall of Xuankong Temple, he tried his best to stop the iron sword in order not to disgrace Buddhism. Therefore, he did not give up and held tightly onto his cudgel.

It seemed that the iron sword just slightly touched the monk’s cudgel and the person in the dust did nothing else but quietly passed by the leader of the soldier monks.

But after that, some real rumbling sounds came from inside the body of the soldier monk. His fingers were smashed into clastics, which were soon followed by his wrists and arms.

The two arms of the leader that used to hold the iron cudgel vibrated into blood and flesh and then blown away together with the dust by the wind.

The soldier monk fell to the ground with a miserable scream. He turned extremely pale and wanted to knock off the pain from his head. Yet that was no longer possible for him.

The dust gradually settled down and that person appeared clearly in front of everyone.

His hair was very short and looked like the sharp sword forest somewhere inside the Academy. He stood under the high and ruthless sky with one arm missing. But there was no crinkle on the empty sleeve.

He was wearing a khaki monk robe. It had not been washed for a year and was stained with dust and blood. Despite the dirty robe, he looked as if he was attending a classic sacrificial ceremony in his best finery.

He still looked calm and proud. Blood covered his face and robe and continued to drip from the iron sword he held in his left hand. He was soaked in blood.

By his appearance, he was nothing more than an ordinary monk. Yet being covered all over in blood after fighting his way out of a battlefield, he looked like a blood Buddha statue coming from the hell.

It was deadly quiet in the Wilderness.

Qi Nian and the Elders from the Commandment Hall stared at this most horrifying and proud Mr. Second of the Back Hill of the Academy. Thinking of the people he had slaughtered in the underground world throughout the year, they sighed and said, “The Buddha is compassionate!”

He said, “The Buddha is regrettable.”

Qi Nian pressed his palms together and said, “Years ago in front of the Verdant Canyon you defeated thousands of enemies. However it is no longer in the Verdant Canyon, but the Buddha land, and you do not have your back up from the Academy. Even if you could fight until the end of the world, you will never win.”

He replied, “An educated man is a gentleman. A gentleman must be resolute and broad-minded, for he has taken up a heavy responsibility and a long course. Isn’t it a heavy responsibility to practice benevolence? Isn’t it a long course that could only end in his death?

Qi Nian questioned, “You are not enlightened. How could you achieve that?”

He looked at the monks in front of him and said emotionlessly, “My name is Jun Mo. I was educated by the Headmaster and would only devote my life to the practice of benevolence. Whoever stands in my way must die.”

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