Chapter Forty-One: The Offering

Chapter Forty-One: The Rite of Worship
Chapter Six: The Night Demon Wreaks Havoc, Overpowers the Righteous Law, Yunpeng Reveals His Divine Power and Vanquishes All Evil

After Qingyu finished speaking, he looked at everyone with a satisfied expression. Ye Hua listened, stunned for a long moment, before he asked, “Fifth Senior Brother, is this really true?” Qingyu smiled and replied, “Little Junior Brother, such tales are quite plausible!”

At this moment, the group stood outside the Great Manjushri Hall, while their ancestral masters were inside, hands clasped, silently reciting the Buddha’s name. When Ye Hua arrived, he had heard his senior brothers mention this Great Manjushri Hall, the second grand hall of the Great Fowl Lingjiu Temple. Within, seven statues of Manjushri Bodhisattva were enshrined.

Ye Hua peered inside, and Qingyu whispered, “The central figure is the Great Wisdom Manjushri; the five in front, from left to right, are Lion Manjushri of the Western Platform, Wisdom Manjushri of the Southern Platform, Youth Manjushri of the Central Platform, Purity Manjushri of the Northern Platform, and Clever Manjushri of the Eastern Platform. Behind the Great Wisdom Manjushri is Nectar Manjushri. Beyond that, there stands the guardian deity Skanda in front of the Manjushri statues, flanked by the Eighteen Arhats…”

As Qingyu spoke, a bell sounded nearby—a long, unbroken peal that spread far and wide. Ye Hua felt his heart tremble; all worldly worries melted away. Instinctively, he bowed his head, clasped his hands, and softly recited the Buddha’s name.

Grandmaster Xuanru stood within the Great Manjushri Hall and spoke in a clear, measured voice: “The hour has come. The Arhat Hall strikes the Netherworld Bell to respectfully invite the Holy Ancestor Manjushri!” As his words faded, a resonant “dong—” echoed from the distant bell and drum tower. Unlike any heard before, this bell’s mighty sound seemed to reach beyond the heavens, yet was gentle as it touched their ears.

“Dong—” Another bell resounded. The winds and clouds stirred, thunder burst forth; in moments, golden clouds spread across the sky, and faintly, sacred chants swept through the heavens. “Dong—” The bell rang again, golden clouds surged, and a fragrant breeze arose. All eyes turned skyward, and from the heavens, rare fragrant blossoms rained down, scattering everywhere. “Dong—” Now the celestial chants soared, as if sung and praised, crimson clouds roiled ever more fiercely.

“Dong—” The golden clouds seemed to part, revealing a vast chasm, from which golden light radiated, dazzling and brilliant. “Dong—” Within the light, silhouettes began to emerge—unclear, indistinct. “Dong—” The bell grew ever louder, shaking hearts and souls; amidst the golden radiance, the figures became more distinct. Below, thousands of disciples from Mount Wutai bowed in reverence, chanting the Buddha’s name.

“Dong—” In the sky, the figures gradually revealed their true forms, lining up in two rows, hands clasped in greeting, while a single figure slowly appeared at the center. “Dong—” When the ninth bell sounded, all disciples of Wutai bowed and cried in unison, “We respectfully welcome Manjushri, the Patriarch of Dharma!”

“All may rise,” came a vast Buddha voice from above. The disciples rose and looked up, seeing a radiant golden light in the sky, the brilliance of Buddha’s glow, and at the center, a monk riding a white elephant, clad in a golden cassock, smiling warmly upon them. On either side stood four bhikkhus, each holding a jeweled canopy, and beyond them eight mighty Vajra warriors, wielding ritual implements—maces, axes, halberds, clubs, swords, spears, and hammers. Outside them stood thirty-six Arhats.

The monk atop the white elephant was the divine manifestation of Manjushri Bodhisattva, a trace of his spirit crossing realms. Mount Wutai had employed the Netherworld Bell, a supreme treasure listed high in the Crimson Book of the Celestial Order, to break through the void and respectfully invite the Dharma Patriarch. Manjushri Bodhisattva gazed at the disciples below and spoke: “All disciples, remember the teachings of your master. Diligently cultivate and honor your work, and the prosperity of our lineage is assured.”

“Remember the holy teachings of Manjushri, the Patriarch of Dharma!” the disciples responded in chorus. Hearing them, Manjushri nodded gently, raised a finger and pointed downward. A beam of golden light shot toward the hall ahead; after a brief stillness, golden light burst forth, and in the sky appeared a thousand bowls of Manjushri’s phantom images.

These images were astonishingly intricate: five heads stacked atop one another, six arms at the chest—two holding a golden bowl, within which sat Shakyamuni Buddha. Behind, a thousand hands stretched in every direction, each hand holding a golden bowl, each bowl containing a Shakyamuni Buddha. Though these were mere phantoms, every detail was vivid and lifelike.

After some time, the images began to fade, growing smaller and finally descending into the hall below, vanishing from sight. “Thank you, Manjushri, for bestowing spiritual grace!” Master Ruhui and the assembled elders bowed in unison.

Manjushri Bodhisattva smiled gently, saying nothing more. The celestial chants surged again, and his figure gradually faded. “We respectfully send off Manjushri, the Patriarch of Dharma!” the assembly cried, bowing once more. After a while, they looked up to see a clear, boundless sky; the golden clouds had dispersed, and the celestial deities and Buddhas had withdrawn their manifested forms.

Master Ruhui gazed at the disciples and said, “The thousand-armed, thousand-bowl, thousand-Shakyamuni Manjushri statue, bestowed by the Holy Ancestor, is the greatest treasure of our Wutai lineage, crafted for each grand Zen gathering since our founding. Enshrined in the Thousand Bowl Manjushri Hall, it stands as the pillar of our school.”

Master Ruhui continued, “The upcoming Zen contest will take place atop the Bodhisattva Peak ahead. There are fifty dueling platforms and five challenge platforms. All disciples shall compete according to their assigned order. Those who lose may challenge any victor, and victors may advance further. Remember, you only have one chance.”

Ye Hua silently thought, “With such rules, advancing will be difficult—luck has no place here.” Master Ruhui, gesturing to the blank stele in front of the Great Manjushri Hall, said, “Soon, this spiritual stele will reveal the contest sequence and dates. Disciples may consult it at their leisure. That is all—go now.”

“Yes, Master,” the disciples replied respectfully. Only after the elders departed did the disciples surge toward the wordless stele. Fortunately, the stele was large, yet it was still surrounded by thousands, packed tightly.

Ye Hua found himself pushed to the outer edge, unable to see, only hearing the clamor within. Someone shouted aloud, “Leifeng Shi, eighth disciple of Qingliang Temple, versus Sang Qiao, sixth disciple of Zhenhai Temple, Platform Seven, August 13. Cang Tao, third disciple of Yuantong Temple, versus Wang Qiaoqian, fifth disciple of Longquan Temple, Platform Nine, August 13. Zhang Jianke, fourth disciple of Guanhai Temple, versus Ma Qing, sixth disciple of Wanfo Pavilion, Platform Thirteen, August 13. Wang Yu, third disciple of Zunsheng Temple, versus Liu Lei, second disciple of Tayuansi, Platform Fifteen, August 13. Zhao Baogang, senior disciple of Shouning Temple, versus Wang Zhihua, fourth disciple of Puhua Temple, …”

Ye Hua squeezed his way out and stood on the periphery, thinking to himself, “I ought not be so eager—my cultivation and mastery of the Four Noble Truths are far inferior to my peers. My only advantage is the Sixfold Celestial Wish technique, yet its true power has not been tested in proper competition. If I step forward, defeat may be my only path.”