Volume One: The Graveyard of Eight Coffins Chapter 84: Entering Final Rest

We were arranged to stay in a meditation room. On the table were two vegetable buns, several small plates of vegetarian dishes, and two bowls of vegetable soup. It must have been Master Fazen who prepared them for us.

Both my third uncle and I were a little hungry. Since we were here, we decided to settle in and fill our stomachs before worrying about anything else.

However, after just a few bites, we couldn’t help but feel helpless. Whether it was the buns, the vegetables, or the soup, there was not a trace of oil or fat—everything seemed to be boiled in plain water. Eating this, there was barely any flavor, only enough to stave off hunger.

I truly wondered how these old monks, Fazen and his master, managed to get by on such fare.

As I ate, I asked my third uncle, “Uncle, do you really think that old monk is over a hundred years old?”

My third uncle nodded. “It seems so. That old monk is no ordinary man. They say Patriarch Bodhidharma meditated facing a wall for nine years—no eating, no drinking, no sleeping. But this old monk is even more remarkable—he’s been meditating in the cave for a whole century.”

I pursed my lips. “How is that possible? If you don’t eat, drink, or sleep, you wouldn’t last nine days, let alone nine years. Are you saying the old monk really stayed in the cave for a hundred years?”

My third uncle replied, “That’s at least how Feiyao’s dream described it. Of course, not eating, drinking, or sleeping for that long is an exaggeration. But I suspect this old monk is extraordinary—he may have achieved the Golden Body, able to survive without food and water, or with very little. And he’s opened his Buddha’s Eye, so he can speak without opening his mouth and see without opening his eyes. In other words, though he never leaves the cave, he knows everything that happens in the world. If he wishes to know anything, he does. I believe he already knows why we’ve come and what we seek. He’s likely arranged everything already, so there’s no use in us being anxious. Let’s rest here for now and ask him in the morning.”

My third uncle’s words were so mysterious that I, having never encountered such things before, couldn’t help but feel curious. I thought to myself that I must take a good look at this miraculous old monk the next day.

Strangely enough, spending the night in a mountain temple, listening to the chimes and the calls of startled birds outside, breathing in the thick incense that filled the entire monastery, my heart, which had been restless and troubled, suddenly found peace. I soon fell fast asleep.

Early the next morning, I was shaken awake by my third uncle.

Rubbing my eyes, I heard him say, “Yangzi, get up—do you smell that? Is something burning?”

I sniffed and, sure enough, the scent of incense had been replaced by the sharp smell of something charred.

I hurriedly dressed, ready to go out with my uncle to investigate. Just as we were about to leave, Fazen entered.

My third uncle said, “Master Fazen, did you let the food burn? You’d better go check. We’re going to see the old patriarch again.”

Fazen nodded. “The old patriarch is no longer in the cave. I am here to take you to him—he left instructions for me. Please, follow me.”

The old monk was not in the cave—hadn’t he said he would never leave it? Full of questions, I followed Fazen out of the meditation room and through a side door into another courtyard.

Here, the smell of burning was even stronger.

Passing through the side door, I saw at once in the center of the courtyard some charred wood. It must have once been a wooden structure, but now most of it had been burned away, leaving only blackened remains.

My third uncle and I exchanged a look, just about to ask what had happened.

Fazen turned to us and said, “The old patriarch passed into final meditation last night.”

I was stunned. “Passed into meditation? You mean… he’s gone?”

Fazen nodded.

My third uncle pointed at the pile of wood. “And this…?”

Fazen continued, “I have already cremated the old patriarch.”

My third uncle asked in shock, “Cremated? Why so soon?”

“It was his instruction. He had been waiting for this day. Now that I’ve seen his wishes through, I, too, must leave this place.” Fazen’s face betrayed little emotion, but his voice revealed a deep affection for the old monk. With the old patriarch gone, he had no reason to remain.

My third uncle sighed and asked, “What else did the old patriarch ask you to do?”

Fazen replied, “He asked me to tell you his story, and there is something he wished to give you.”

With that, Fazen began to recount the story of Patriarch Jue Ming.

The story began where the one my uncle told me had ended…

Back then, Yang Huanzhi, after using the black cat to take his revenge, was enlightened by the destitute monk and sent to meditate in repentance. For a long time, he could not forget Wanqing, nor forgive himself for what he had done to her. He also felt deep remorse for causing the black cat’s death.

Yang Huanzhi lived in torment, day and night.

During this period, the destitute monk accompanied Yang Huanzhi every day, burning incense and chanting sutras.

Yang Huanzhi’s mind was divided; hearing the chanting gave him splitting headaches. He could neither live nor die in peace.

Yet the monk did not falter, continuing every day without rest.

It wasn’t until three years later that Yang Huanzhi, as if suddenly enlightened, found that hearing the sutras no longer brought him pain—instead, he began to recite them himself.

That same year, the monk set out to wander the world and never returned. Before leaving, he shaved Yang Huanzhi’s head, giving him the monk’s name Jue Ming, and entrusted him with the care of the dilapidated temple.

Monk Jue Ming resolved to meditate facing the wall, emulating Bodhidharma in his search for enlightenment.

At that time, word spread that a great monk was meditating in the temple, and the incense offerings increased. Jue Ming named the temple Repentance Monastery and hid himself away in the cave, instructing a young novice to bring him food each day.

The monastery passed from decline to its peak, and then from its peak back to gradual decay. The number of monks dwindled, but there was always someone willing to follow Patriarch Jue Ming and keep him company.

A hundred years passed, and just as my uncle had guessed, Jue Ming attained the Golden Body and opened his Buddha’s Eye. He could absorb the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, going a year without eating and months without drinking.

Fazen had joined the monastery as a child and had lived in Repentance Monastery for thirty years. His insight was profound—he could communicate with Jue Ming without words. As strange as it seemed, to me it was as if their minds were directly connected. No wonder he could understand Jue Ming’s wishes at the mouth of the cave.

After hearing Fazen’s story, I was still puzzled. Why did the old monk wait for us to arrive before passing away? And why was he cremated immediately afterward?

My uncle sighed, “Yang the Wooden Man truly led a legendary life. If he hadn’t deliberately hidden his identity, he would have been a figure of great renown in history…”

He turned to Fazen and asked, “You said the patriarch had something to give us?”

Fazen nodded, reaching into his satchel and producing a small box. In front of us, he opened it.

(End of chapter)