Volume Two: Inheriting the Legacy, Blood on the Brocade Robe Chapter 122: True Clarity

When Yang Ning woke up, a beam of sunlight filtered through the window, scattering tiny, shimmering motes of light across the room. He opened his eyes and glanced around, finding everything unusually unfamiliar. He sat up abruptly, realizing that the stinging pain in his chest had vanished completely.

He steadied himself and surveyed his surroundings. It was a simple, modest chamber with two small windows, their crisscrossed wooden frames allowing the sunlight to pierce through the gaps.

The room was clean and sparse. Aside from the bed he had been sleeping on, there was an identical bed on the opposite side of the room, separated by a small space. Between the two beds stood only a pine table with a few small pine stools, along with a teapot and cups resting on the tabletop.

The bedding and sheets on the opposite bed were a plain, monochromatic grayish-white, folded with precise, square neatness.

On the wall opposite him hung a banner, with a single, simple character written in its center: "Pure."

Yang Ning frowned as he stood up. He only remembered suffering a sudden, sharp pain in his chest back at the Marquis's estate—a sensation like needles pricking and blades twisting—before he lost consciousness and knew nothing more.

Waking up in this place felt entirely alien; it was clearly not the Marquis's residence.

The door was left slightly ajar. Yang Ning took a couple of steps, feeling lightheaded and physically weak. He had no idea how much time had passed.

Stepping outside, the warm, gentle sunlight bathed him, bringing a faint sense of comfort.

Outside the door lay a small courtyard with a few pine and cypress trees and clusters of greenery. A bluestone path led directly to the courtyard gate. Yang Ning followed the path, and upon exiting the gate, a cool breeze greeted him. After walking a few steps, he found himself facing a cliff edge that jutted out like a knife's point. Near the edge stood a massive bronze bell.

He looked around. Outside the courtyard walls, narrow paths—only wide enough for one person—ran along both sides. On one side was the courtyard wall, and on the other, a bottomless abyss, with only that knife-like cliff protruding forward.

Yang Ning was startled to realize he was situated atop a precipice.

He walked slowly toward the bell. Beside it sat a large stone pedestal topped with a smooth slab marked by intersecting lines. A single glance told Yang Ning it was a Go board. Small stone stools sat on either side, clearly intended for frequent matches.

He looked out from his vantage point, and the scenery unfolded before him: rolling mountains, winding and curved like a dragon. Nestled among the peaks, he could vaguely see numerous ancient halls and large courtyards, as well as precarious suspension bridges connecting the steeper sections. Some buildings appeared antique and solemn, while others were gilded and resplendent, shimmering conspicuously under the sun.

Yang Ning was astonished, unable to comprehend how he had ended up in such a place. He wondered to himself, "Could it be that I've transmigrated again, damn it?"

Just as he was puzzled, a voice called out from behind him, "Oh, you're awake? That is truly wonderful."

Yang Ning heard the youthful voice and turned. He saw a young monk in robes, no more than thirteen or fourteen years old, with delicate features, holding a basket and looking at him with joy.

Yang Ning paused, confused. "Are you... are you talking to me?" He looked left and right, but seeing no one else, he realized it must be him. "Do you know me?"

"You have been here for two days," the young monk said. "I am Zhenming. I do not yet know your Dharma name!"

"Zhenming?" Yang Ning asked. "Your name is Zhenming?"

"Indeed," the young monk said, pressing his palms together. "This is the name bestowed upon me by the Abbot!"

Yang Ning hurried forward. "Zhenming, tell me, how did I get here? What place is this?"

The young monk Zhenming looked perplexed. "You don't know where you are? This is the Great Brightness Temple. Oh, you mean what location this is? We are on Tianbao Peak, the smallest of the three Treasure Peaks of Purple Gold Mountain. This is where the morning bell is kept."

"Purple Gold Mountain? The Great Brightness Temple?" Yang Ning asked, bewildered. "What kind of place is the Great Brightness Temple?"

Zhenming scratched his bald head, looking troubled. "The Great Brightness Temple is the Great Brightness Temple. We... we are in the Great Brightness Temple right now. I don't know what other place it could be." He asked, "My master said you were injured and needed to rest here for a while. Are you a disciple of the Great Brightness Temple? Have you not yet been tonsured?"

"A disciple of the Great Brightness Temple?" Yang Ning shook his head immediately. "I'm not going to be a monk."

Zhenming looked curious. "You won't be a monk? But... but in the Great Brightness Temple, isn't everyone a monk? If you aren't a monk, why would the temple help heal your injuries?"

Yang Ning immediately recalled his sudden illness at the Marquis's estate. Clearing his thoughts, he deduced, "You're saying that people in the Great Brightness Temple helped treat my injuries?"

Zhenming nodded. "Yes, two of my uncles personally treated you. How are you feeling now? My master said your injuries haven't fully healed and it will take some time, so you should stay here for now."

"And who is your master?"

"My master's Dharma name is Jingchun. Do you not know?"

Yang Ning shook his head. He glanced at the young monk's bald head and noticed two incense scars. He asked curiously, "Little monk, why do you only have two scars on your head? Aren't there usually nine?"

Zhenming was taken aback and shook his head vigorously. "No, no, I wouldn't dare. These are ordination scars; one cannot just add them randomly. There are one, two, three, six, eight, nine, or twelve. Twelve points represent the Bodhisattva Precepts. In the Great Brightness Temple, only the Abbot has nine, and my master only has eight. I have the Le-Fu precept; I am already quite content."

Only then did Yang Ning realize there were so many rules regarding the ordination scars in the Great Brightness Temple.

"So where did your master go? How many more days must I stay here?" Yang Ning asked as he walked back toward the courtyard. "Do the two monks who treated me still need to help me?"

Zhenming replied, "You shouldn't speak of my uncles that way. But they and my master have all gone down the mountain; they are not in the temple."

"What?" Yang Ning stopped. "When will they be back?"

He was thinking of the many affairs at the Marquis's estate. Having left so suddenly, he had no idea what the situation was. Furthermore, he had made an agreement with Tang Nuo that she would come to the capital to find him within half a month. If the young monk was right and he had already been here for two days, and if Tang Nuo kept her word, she should be arriving in the capital soon. If she went to the Marquis's estate and found him gone, she was a stranger in a strange land—who knew where she might go?

He felt no discomfort and thought it would be best to leave as soon as his injuries were mended.

Zhenming answered honestly, "They went down the mountain to perform funeral rites. My master said it would take at least three days for them to return."

"Three days?" Yang Ning frowned. "I see many halls and pavilions here; this isn't a small temple. Surely there are plenty of pilgrims. Why go out to perform rites for money? Is the temple that short on silver?"

Zhenming was startled. "Earn money? Why would we earn money? The Emperor has passed away. Aside from the Abbot, who must perform the 'Empty Zen' meditation, ten of the thirteen monks have gone to perform the Water and Land Dharma Assembly. It is the greatest of all rites and requires ten monks to be complete. My master is one of the Thirteen Monks of Brightness; he had to go."

"What do you mean by the 'Thirteen Monks'?" Yang Ning asked. "With such a large temple, surely there aren't only thirteen monks?"

Zhenming quickly explained, "No, no. There are four or five hundred people in the temple. The 'Thirteen Monks of Brightness' refers to the thirteen high monks of the 'Jing' generation, including the Abbot." He asked, "Do you know nothing of the Great Brightness Temple? 'Pure, Quiet, Truth, and the Sea'—surely you've heard of that?"

"I really haven't," Yang Ning sighed. "I was in the capital, and the moment I opened my eyes, I was here."

Zhenming patted his head. "Right, I almost forgot. You just arrived at the temple. Ah, my master was in such a hurry, he didn't explain clearly." He carried the basket into the room, set it on the table, and said, "Come, let's eat."

Only then did Yang Ning realize how hungry he was. As he entered, Zhenming had already set the food out: a small dish of tofu, a small dish of greens, and two bowls of rice.

"Is this... for one person or two?" Yang Ning couldn't help but ask. This amount of food wasn't even enough for one person to feel half-full, let alone two.

Though Zhenming was honest, he wasn't dense. Seeing Yang Ning's meaning, he said, "I am not hungry. You eat it all."

Although Yang Ning was famished, he felt awkward eating while Zhenming watched. He pushed one bowl of rice toward the boy. "Let's eat together." He couldn't resist asking, "Is the Great Brightness Temple truly that poor? Why is there only this much food?"

Zhenming explained, "The senior brother at the Five Grains Hall says that to cultivate the heart, one must eat less. He also said that since I am young, I shouldn't overeat; it is a karmic sin."

"Does everyone else do this?" Yang Ning frowned.

Zhenming shook his head. "Not necessarily." He asked, "By the way, Junior Brother, do you have a Dharma name?"

Yang Ning, who had just picked up his chopsticks, set them down and said seriously, "Little monk, listen closely. I am not a monk. I am not one now, and I will never be one. I have no destiny with the Buddhist path, and it is impossible for me to become a glorious monk, so I will not have a Dharma name." He pointed to his own chest. "From now on, call me... Brother Ning!"

"Brother Ning?" Zhenming pressed his palms together. "In the temple, we have always referred to each other as senior or junior brothers. You... you joined the temple only recently, so I can only call you Junior Brother Ning. Would that be acceptable?"

"Whatever, whatever. I can't be bothered to argue with you." Yang Ning picked up his bowl and wolfed down the rice in a few bites. He looked up to see Zhenming staring at him blankly, so he put down his bowl and chopsticks. "What's wrong?"

"Junior Brother Ning, you look very hungry. You can have this bowl, too," Zhenming said, pushing his own bowl of rice forward. "I can endure missing a meal."

Yang Ning asked, "How far is this Five Grains Hall you mentioned? Why don't we go get some more food?"

Zhenming waved his hands. "No, no. The Five Grains Hall has set hours for meals, and it's already closed. If we go now, it would take at least the time it takes for an incense stick to burn to walk there, and even if we arrived, the senior brothers there wouldn't give us anything."

Yang Ning slammed his hand on the table. "What kind of senior brothers are they? So arrogant that they won't even let people eat their fill? What are they trying to do?"