Sword of Coming

Aquarius Island has always liked to divide the north and south by Guanhu Academy.

There are many barbarians in the north, while all in the south are civilized.

It is natural for southerners to look down on northerners. Even great Sui writers in the north would regard themselves as dwarves when faced with scholars from Nanjian Kingdom. Therefore, high-ranking families in the south feel ashamed to marry into the north.

As the New Year approaches, in a noisy market in the south, there is a barefoot, middle-aged monk begging for alms, with a square and resolute face, walking slowly.

A juggler tried his best and won bursts of applause. The monk saw a small monkey tied to a wooden stake. It was skinny and skinny, so it looked like it had huge eyes.

The monk squatted down, took out half a piece of hard dry biscuit, broke it into pieces, put it in the palm of his hand, and stretched it out to the skinny little monkey.

But it was frightened by the monk's kind deed, and fled backwards in panic. The chain was instantly stretched straight, and with a rebound, the little monkey covered in whip marks suddenly fell to the ground, curled up, and started whimpering.

The monk gently placed the broken dry biscuits near the wooden stake, broke the remaining half of the dry biscuits into pieces and scattered them on the ground. Then he put down the iron bowl, then stood up and stepped back. Sitting cross-legged three or four steps away from the wooden stake, he began to close his eyes, move his lips slightly, and recite scriptures and precepts silently.

Practice while walking, practice while sitting, thousands of miles away, and continue to practice asceticism.

The little monkey, who was suffering from cold and hunger, was really hungry. After the monk sat down, he looked at him timidly for a long time. Finally, he mustered up the courage to grab a piece of broken cake. When he got braver, he ate another piece secretly. Repeatedly, he accidentally discovered that there was some water in the iron bowl, so he went to take a drink. In the middle of winter, the water in the bowl was actually warm, which made the little monkey feel comfortable and not afraid of the monk. , his big eyes stared blankly at the guy with bare feet and bald head, as if full of confusion.

After the monk finished reciting a scripture, he opened his eyes and stood up. The little monkey hid again. The monk just bent down and took back the iron bowl and left.

The little monkey held on to the wooden stake, looked at the monk's back, and soon disappeared into the crowded sea of ​​people.

It burped softly for the first time, stretched out its hand to scratch its skinny cheek, and blinked its big eyes.

The barefoot monk walked with his head down among the crowds of people. Even if he was bumped on the shoulder by passers-by, he never raised his head. Instead, he saluted with his right hand in front of his chest, nodded slightly, and continued to move forward.

There was a crazy old man in the market, his eyebrows were knotted, he was slovenly, and his clothes were ragged. Whenever he met children, no matter whether their elders were rich or poor, they would come over and ask the same question. Most of the people Not surprised by this, most of them led the children and walked away quickly, some laughed and cursed a few times, and some young and strong men with bad tempers even pushed the old madman a few times. From beginning to end, the old madman All just repeating that weird question.

"Have you chosen a name for your child?"

A group of young libertines who knew the old man very well blocked the old man. One of them asked with a wicked smile: "I have a child at home who hasn't been named yet. What do you want?"

The old man suddenly beamed, danced with joy, and said: "I'll pick it up, I'll pick the name. I will definitely pick a good name this time..."

"Take your uncle!" The old man was kicked in the abdomen by the young man, and he fell to the ground after being kicked. The old man was rolling on the ground holding his stomach.

A mendicant knelt down and helped the old man get up, and the group of libertines left laughing.

After being helped up, the old man stretched out his hand to hold the monk's arm tightly, and still asked the monk the extremely disrespectful question, "Has your child been named?"

The middle-aged monk looked at the demented old man, shook his head, and helped the old man dust away the dust before moving on.

The old man was still asking for trouble in the market, and received countless looks and abuses.

As the sun set, the monk begged for alms. After seven households, he stopped asking for alms. There was very little food in the iron bowl, and it was difficult to even get enough food and clothing.

The monks enter the city from the north and leave the city from the south. There are many people on the road. The monks lower their heads and walk. If they encounter small insects, they pick them up and put them on the roadside in a deserted place.

Finally, I saw an ancient temple that had been abandoned for a long time. The monk saluted with one hand outside the door and slowly walked in.

In the corridor under the eaves outside the main hall, after eating the food in the alms bowl, the monk began to sit cross-legged and continue practicing.

In the dusk, the old madman staggered back. Without looking at the monk, he went straight to the main hall, fell down on a pile of thatch, rolled up a thin and broken quilt, covered his hands and feet as much as possible, and fell asleep.

Nothing happened all night.

The bad old man who liked to make random names for people didn't wake up until noon. After waking up, he left the ruined temple and gathered people in the city. He turned a blind eye to the middle-aged monk. At first, no one guessed whether the old lunatic might be a strange person with a weird temperament. Later, it was discovered that he was just an old loser. He would not fight back when hit or scolded, and he would cry when the beating hurt and bleed when the beating was severe. , in the end only some idle libertines were willing to make fun of the old man.

The old man has lived in this abandoned temple for many years.

For the next half a year, day after day, the monk stayed here temporarily. Occasionally he would go to the city with the old man to ask for alms, and occasionally he would go out of the city with the old man and return to his residence. There has been no verbal communication between the two, and there is very little eye contact between them. Every time the old madman sees the monk, he looks blank and cannot remember anything.

It rained heavily that night, and there was lightning and thunder.

In the fierce wind and rain, it is estimated that even the shouts that are close at hand cannot be heard clearly.

The old man huddled on the thatched roof would tremble with fright every time thunder sounded. The old man who was sleeping soundly, maybe thinking of something sad or having a nightmare, clenched his hands into fists, tensed his body, and kept mumbling. : "It's grandpa who chose the wrong name. It's grandpa who hurt you. It's grandpa who hurt you."

That withered and old face had no tears left to shed, but it still looked particularly heartbreaking.

As the rapid thunder became intermittent, although the rain was still dense and terrifying, the old man's soliloquy had faded away.

But just when the old man fell into a deep sleep, the monk bent his fingers and tapped lightly.

Boom!

The sound of wooden fish echoed throughout the ancient temple.

It sounded like spring thunder in the corridor.

The old man shuddered and sat up suddenly. After looking around, he felt confused at first, then relieved, and finally miserable. He stood up and walked out of the main hall. The short old man in ragged clothes walked with a fierce momentum, like a tiger descending from the mountain. Jianglong. But despite his amazing momentum, the old man's body was still extremely weak.

The tiger will not fall down until it is dead.

The old man walked out of the temple and looked up. He was speechless for a long time, and in the end he was just disappointed.

The monk whispered: "All sentient beings suffer."

The old man didn't even look at the monk, and sneered: "It's hard to suffer! I'm happy! How can you be free when you become a heartless and stoic immortal? Bullshit, you have been looking at each other for a long time, one by one, you only remember the immortals and forget about the people... Haha , If ordinary people forget their roots, they will be struck by lightning. Only when gods forget their roots are they truly gods. It’s so ridiculous, so ridiculous..."

The middle-aged monk said again: "All living beings suffer."

The old man was silent, sitting cross-legged, clenching his fists on his knees, and mocking himself: "It feels like a lifetime ago."

At dawn, the old man who had fallen asleep suddenly woke up. His eyes were cloudy again, and he continued his hazy day.

More than a month had passed like this, and on a Mid-Autumn Festival night with a full moon, the old man finally regained consciousness, but this time his energy was not as good as before, and he was getting old.

He sat in the corridor under the eaves with the monks, looking at the bright moon. The old man said to himself, "My grandson is very smart, the smartest scholar in the world. It's a pity that his surname is Cui. He is unfortunate. It's even more unfortunate to have sex with a grandfather like me. It shouldn't be like this, it shouldn't be like this..."

The middle-aged monk was silent.

Someone once said: There is a temple without monks sweeping the floor; there is incense but no fire and the moon lights the lamps.

After winter, there was heavy snowfall. The old man slept in the temple, his teeth chattering, and his face was ashen. As if he could not survive the cold winter, the monk came in asking for an alms bowl and handed the old man a warm dry biscuit. The old man took it in a daze and threw it away suddenly. On the ground, his eyes regained some clarity, and then looked at the monk who picked up the dry biscuits again, and once again reached out and handed over the dry biscuits. The old man shook his head and said: "I only want to see my grandson once in my life, otherwise I will die with my eyes closed. I can't swallow this breath." , I can’t cut it off! I want to tell him I’m sorry, it’s grandpa who’s sorry for him... I can’t go crazy, I want to wake up, monk, please save me!”

The old man squeezed the monk's arm tightly with his hand, "Monk, as long as you let me wake up and see my grandson, it doesn't matter if I work as a cow or a horse for you... I will kowtow to you, and I will become your disciple! That's right!" Yes, you, a monk, have great supernatural powers, you can definitely help me escape from the sea of ​​suffering..."

When the old man woke up this time, his mental energy was as dry as rotten wood, there were signs of exhaustion, and his consciousness was no longer clear.

The monk said calmly: "You can't let go of your obsession no matter what? Even if you see him, what can you do now that it's over?"

The old man looked miserable, "How can I let it go? It's not my business alone. If you can't let it go, you won't be able to let it go in this life."

The middle-aged monk thought for a moment and said, "Since you can't let it go, pick it up first."

The old man asked foolishly: "How to get it?"

The monk replied: "Go to Dali."

The old man nodded and said, "Yes, my grandson is in Dali."

The monk shook his head and said, "Your grandson is in Da Sui, but your grandson's husband is in Longquan County, Da Li."

The old man fell into panic, stepped back, leaned against the wall, shook his head vigorously and said: "I don't want to see the Literary Saint..."

After a moment, the old man suddenly became furious, "If you want to harm me, just beat me to death. If you want to harm my grandson, I will smash your golden body with one punch! Even if your Buddha comes, I will do the same." fist!"

After speaking, the old man struggled to stand up. His aura was as strong and majestic as the two pure warriors who had fought in Lizhu Cave.

But there was only a bit of bravado left.

The monk's face was calm, and he lowered his head and stared at the iron bowl in his hand. There was clear water in the bowl, and he said, "Buddha sees a bowl of water containing eighty-four thousand insects."

The old man frowned and said, "Bald donkey, don't try to fight with me!"

The monk turned his head and gently lifted the iron bowl, "This is the most interesting thing about your grandson. He saw 'little', and the poor monk thought he could tell his husband about it."

The old man's eyes were determined, "Monk, you have a big plan, and I will never agree to it."

The monk sighed, "Grass without roots."

The monk just got up and left.

The old man took the time to sit cross-legged and began to breathe. His skin, which was originally dead, slowly shone with golden light.

Then he carved the words "Dali Longquan County" with his fingers on the palm of his hand. His blood and flesh were blurred, and he kept telling himself, "To go here, you must go here. I just don't see and tell, don't ask and don't do." .

The old man returned to the temple and fell asleep.

The snow outside the temple became more intense, but the cold air melted away as soon as it approached the temple gate.