Chapter 10

The Buddhist Light Temple is situated in a serene, otherworldly realm, like a smooth pearl resting on a lotus pedestal in the endless sky. The landscape is a picture of perfect tranquillity: beautifully lacquered bridges, adorned with intricate carvings, gracefully arch over clear, sparkling streams. These waters are alive with golden koi fish that leap out in slow, stunning arcs, as if they have found a state of enlightenment themselves.

The shiny black walkways are expertly designed with geometric patterns that catch the light, creating a mesmerising effect under the constant glow of dawn. A gentle, magical breeze stirs the air, carrying the sweet scents of jasmine and sandalwood, and it playfully scatters colourful flower petals across the grounds. Even the less tidy parts of the temple shine softly, touched by a sense of holiness.

Soft wisps of incense drift lazily, mixing with the sounds of distant chanting and harmonious bells, creating an inviting atmosphere that encourages everyone to pause, reflect, and find peace within this sacred sanctuary.

The temple is a grand structure, designed with careful thought and intricate details. Each spire and pagoda is precisely positioned to amplify the soothing sound of the Abiding Sutra, which is important to the monks in this sect. Stupas rise in layered levels, their surfaces covered in densely inscribed mantras. When sunlight shines through these words, it casts beautiful, shifting patterns on the ground, creating an almost magical appearance. Towering bell towers catch the wind, producing melodic chimes that ring out at specific intervals. The notes are carefully calculated to resonate deeply within anyone practising their teachings, clearing away negative thoughts, regrets, and even common illnesses like colds.

Inside the temple, monks in saffron robes move with purpose, performing their daily routines that include chanting, washing rituals, meditative walks, and martial arts practice. Their faces show peace and calmness, but just beneath that calm is a mix of human emotions: ambition, pride, jealousy, and a constant struggle to prove who is the most Enlightened among them. In quiet corners, pairs of monks engage in passionate debates over the finer points of the Sixth Folded Path. Often, their voices grow heated, but they instantly regain their composure and bow respectfully when a senior monk walks by.

At the head of this community is Master Shi Xuantong, the abbot. His long years of commitment and self-discipline have shaped him into a figure who seems more like a statue than a man. According to rumours, his thick eyebrows have been nurtured with rare Immortal Lotuses, making them stand out like the whiskers of a mythical catfish, trembling with every pulse of energy in the air. He walks with careful purpose, as if he might at any moment rise to Nirvana, yet he holds back, wanting to ensure that none of his students accidentally cause chaos, like burning down the library, while he’s not watching.

The presence of women in the temple is subtle yet significant. Dressed in pale gold robes, the nuns move quietly through the spaces around them. Their demeanour is gentle, but they hold firmly to their duties. They tend to the hidden gardens, nurturing the plants with care, and they also keep watch over the temple’s collection of forbidden texts, ensuring that the knowledge within is protected.

The nuns serve as a reminder that achieving true enlightenment is not something one can do alone. Their existence is a silent encouragement for the monks to deepen their own practices. The abbot often observes this dynamic with a blend of resignation and respect. He notes that the presence of the nuns pushes the monks to cultivate their minds and spirits even more diligently. They must work hard to avoid being distracted by thoughts of dual-cultivation or the dangers of developing romantic feelings, which could lead them away from their spiritual paths.

On this particular morning, the grand Gathering Hall of New Disciples buzzes with a mix of nerves and excitement. The hall itself is an architectural wonder, with intricately carved pillars that depict the full story of the Buddha’s battle against the demonic maras. The polished floor shines like a mirror and reflects the faces of thirty new initiates. These young people kneel in perfect rows, their heads freshly shaved and slick with oil from a ceremonial purification ritual. For many of them, joining the temple is not just a spiritual journey; it’s a way to escape poverty or even the threat of being forced into a local warlord’s army. However, despite their varied backgrounds, the moment feels significant for all of them. Each youth kneels beside their own hopes and the traumas they’ve faced, and the shared sense of awe among them is unmistakable.

Leading this orientation is Hui Kong, an important disciple of the temple whose reputation precedes him like a storm cloud. Though he presents himself as a model of monastic virtue, always dressed in pristine robes and standing tall with ease, there’s an unmistakable spark of mischief in him that is hard to ignore. His dark hair is trimmed short, and his face is handsome in a subtle way, but it’s his eyes that truly stand out: they shine with intelligence and playfulness, as if he’s always planning some small trick or clever scheme.

As he walks back and forth in front of the kneeling initiates, his hands are clasped behind his back. His voice carries a mix of seriousness and warmth as he speaks.

"My junior brothers," Hui Kong begins, his voice steady and inviting, “you have come here to follow the path of the Buddha, to purify your hearts and rise above the burdens of desire. But let’s not pretend that desire is absent. Desire is the furnace that shapes us. It's through facing our earthly desires that the soul can truly find clarity.”

The words hang in the air, and a few inexperienced novices nod their heads in serious agreement. Others shift nervously, thinking back to the stern lectures from their mothers, the firm warnings from their fathers, or the daily advice from the village elders.

Hui Kong allows the silence to stretch between them before he speaks again. “Soon, you will be chosen to undertake the Yin-Yang Pilgrimage, a sacred tradition that has been honoured as long as the Temple has existed.” A small smile appears on his lips, barely noticeable. “You will travel to the legendary True Yin-Yang Sect, where the most beautiful beings in the world will be waiting for you—not to seduce you, but to test your ability to stay focused and centred.”

The idea of a “test” sinks in, weighing heavily on the minds of the novices. Everyone has heard the stories: the pilgrimage lasts for ten days in the lush, stunning gardens of the True Yin-Yang Sect, where maidens are said to have a charm powerful enough to drive even the most disciplined men into a frenzy of desire. Failing the test could bring eternal shame, a demotion to the role of latrine cleaner, or even the dreaded punishment of copying the Abiding Sutra by hand a thousand times. But success can unlock the deepest secrets of dual-cultivation, turning physical desire into spiritual strength.

Hui Kong’s smile grows wider. “You will be surrounded by senior sisters from many different backgrounds: humans, elves, beastkin, demonkin, succubi, and even the rare aquatic nymphs. They will tempt you with enchanting songs, mesmerising dances, and conversations that could warm the heart of even the wisest sage. If you manage to resist their charms, not only will you gain great respect, but you may even advance a level in your cultivation journey.”

Hui Kong claps his hands together, and the moment he does, the air around him begins to shimmer and ripple. From this swirling energy, two captivating figures materialise beside him, both crafted from the delicate balance of qi. The first is a cat-eared beastkin, her playful demeanour evident as her furry tail flicks back and forth. She clings to his arm, her eyes sparkling with the rich hue of molten gold, radiating mischief and charm.

Next to her stands a stunning succubus, beautifully designed in a classic style. She has graceful bat wings that extend elegantly behind her, crimson lips that promise allure, and a form-fitting dress that leaves little to the imagination, hinting at her stunning curves. The two illusions come to life, purring softly and giggling, playfully nuzzling up to Hui Kong as if he were the most fascinating person in the room.

The new disciples, watching in awe, can hardly believe their eyes. Some of them turn as red as the abbot’s ceremonial plum blossom, unable to look away from the mesmerizing sight. Others steal glances at their friends, unsure if it's okay to show their fascination or if they should pretend to be shocked.

As Hui Kong finally releases the illusions, they dissolve into the air like wisps of smoke, leaving only a subtle blush behind, fading slowly as the enchantment wanes.

“Desire isn’t the enemy, juniors,” he says, lowering his voice to create an air of secrecy. “It’s only uncontrolled desire that can lead you astray. If you learn to manage your desires, you’ll truly master yourself. The True Yin-Yang seniors will not tempt you unless you allow them to.” He leans closer, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. “And if you find yourself tempted, remember that could be a lesson in itself.”

As he speaks, a wave of excitement sweeps through the group. Many of the younger disciples, who were once tense and serious, start to relax, shifting their postures from guilt to eager anticipation. Everyone knows that Hui Kong, their senior brother, achieved the prestigious Core Disciple status faster than anyone else. If he hints at some secret to the pilgrimage, they are all ears.

Finally, a brave young disciple, a thin boy with oversized ears, hesitantly raises his hand. “Senior Brother Hui Kong, is it true that… if someone, um… indulges in those desires, they can still use the yin essence to grow stronger? Like, it’s not a complete waste?”

The room seems to hold its breath, anticipating what will come next. Hui Kong stands confidently before the crowd, his lips curling into a faint smile. “Indeed,” he begins, his voice calm yet captivating. “If you can harmonise your qi with your partner, there is no shame in mutual cultivation. It’s the excessive and reckless pursuit of power that leads to madness. But a gentle, controlled exchange? That is one of the secrets of the Path.”

As he speaks, he reaches into his sleeve and pulls out a jade token that glows softly with intricate inscriptions. He waves it before the assembled crowd, drawing their attention. “However,” he continues, his tone shifting to one of caution, “the True Yin-Yang Sect is a fortress. They excel at distraction and deception. Without a map, you risk falling into every seductive trap they set around their grounds.”

The crowd responds with a flurry of whispers, curiosity and concern spreading among them. Hui Kong raises his hand, signalling for silence. “I have spent years researching and making personal sacrifices to develop a set of secret maps,” he announces confidently. “Each map reveals the shortest and safest route to the meditation pavilions, the beautiful tea gardens, and, for those who dare, the private hot springs.”

He holds up a small jade slip, just the size of a fingernail, etched with a detailed fractal diagram showing the layout of the Yin-Yang grounds. The slip glows softly in his hand, a clear sign of its authenticity.

“For only ten sect points,” Hui Kong offers, his eyes sparkling with intrigue, “this valuable knowledge can be yours. Think of it as an investment in your own enlightenment.”

For many new initiates, the price is a significant sum. Most receive just twenty points per season, but the demand for the maps is immediate and overwhelming. Within moments, nearly half of the audience is waving their tokens in the air, some even offering double or triple the price for a chance to obtain a map early. Hui Kong handles the situation with the grace of a seasoned courtier, maintaining a serious expression as he conducts transactions without a hint of a smirk.

Just as he is about to finalise a deal, disaster strikes.

Suddenly—WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

A sudden barrage of cane strikes landed on the backs of thirty young monks, causing them to yelp in pain and hunch over, cradling their sore heads.

At the front of the group stood Disciplinary Elder Vajra Stern, a towering figure with a fierce expression. His eyebrows were thick and bristly like steel brushes, and in his hand, he held a cane that glowed softly with a purifying light.

“Impure thoughts! Greed! Deception!” he thundered, his voice echoing through the courtyard. “You all will serve latrine duty for one month! From dawn till dusk!”

A chorus of groans arose from the new disciples, who couldn’t believe what they’d just heard. Frustration bubbled among them as they turned to glare at Hui Kong, the core disciple. To their surprise, he had vanished entirely, leaving no sign of his presence behind, as if he had blended into the very air around them.

One young monk, still rubbing his head in pain, grumbled, “That sneaky bastard… I really hate him.”

A kilometre away and three stories high, Hui Kong found his refuge in the sturdy branches of a centuries-old pine tree. He reclined comfortably in its crook, his posture relaxed and casual, almost as if he were an artist escaping from the constraints of society. Below him, the Gathering Hall still loomed in sight, but he had made sure to position himself within the dense bamboo and the sprawling pine needles, creating an effective cover that muffled sounds, allowing him to enjoy a moment of peace.

“Thirty sales at ten points each… that adds up to three hundred points. Not bad for an afternoon’s work,” he mused to himself, allowing a rare grin to escape his lips. The satisfaction of his accomplishments made him feel a sense of pride. “Three hundred points for just one day.”

As he prepared to leave his hidden spot, Hui Kong suddenly bumped into something solid—a wall of muscle that caught him off guard.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going, idiot!” he exclaimed, but as he turned to face this unexpected barrier, his voice faltered.

The “wall” turned out to be none other than Abbot Shi Xuantong, the Temple Master himself. His skin glowed with a golden hue, and a serene smile rested on his face, making him look almost otherworldly.

Hui Kong felt the colour drain from his face as he recognised that smile all too well. It wasn’t a warm, comforting smile. Instead, it was the kind that sent chills down the spine of any disciple, often preceding what he knew to be legendary beatings.

“M-Master…” Hui Kong stammered, trying to muster an innocent smile in hopes of diffusing the situation.

In a voice that was gentle yet menacing, the abbot replied, “Hui Kong. My wayward disciple. We need to have a discussion about your… merchandising activities during sacred orientation.”

With a flick of his wrist, a cane appeared in Shi Xuantong's hand as though it had been conjured from thin air.

What followed was a series of loud, echoing thuds that sounded like thunderous drumbeats resonating through the grove. Hui Kong’s cries of “Mercy, Master!” and “I’ll reflect!” echoed through the trees, reaching the ears of nearby deer who, sensing the commotion, wisely chose to flee.

When the punishment finally ceased, Shi Xuantong dragged Hui Kong’s limp body by the collar, heading back toward the temple with that same serene smile still plastered on his face.

“Reflection retreat,” he announced pleasantly. “Three months. No visitors allowed.”

*******

High above in the vast, starry expanse of the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion, a serene scene played out peacefully.

Tianji Yuehua lay comfortably on a soft picnic blanket made from shimmering threads of captured starlight. Her dark blue robes spread around her like a galaxy, rich and beautiful. Beside her, her cherished wife, Lan Mingzhu, sat close and lovingly fed her small, juicy spirit grapes, one by one. Their twin daughters, Xinglan and Xingyue, were full of energy, chasing each other through bright, floating constellations. Their laughter rang out like silver bells as they played a joyful game of tag amid glowing nebulae.

As they enjoyed this tranquil moment, an elder from the pavilion approached for the third time that day, holding a jade slip that pulsed with urgency.

“Pavilion Master… we’re facing fallout from the Blood Asura raid, there’s been a skirmish at Thunder Weng-Sovereign Mountain, and we might be ambushed regarding the sword and element sects. The divination threads are aligning in an unusual way—” the elder reported, concern evident in his voice.

Tianji Yuehua paused to take another grape from Lan Mingzhu’s fingers, her gaze never leaving their playful daughters.

“Tomorrow,” she replied softly, her voice calm yet firm.

The elder bowed respectfully, understanding the weight of her words, and retreated with a resigned sigh.

Lan Mingzhu smiled gently, resting her head against Yuehua’s shoulder, finding comfort in her presence.

“Good wife,” she said warmly, appreciating the peaceful moment together.

Just then, the twins pounced on both of them in a burst of giggles, creating a joyful pile of starlight and love.

Although they were aware that a storm loomed on the horizon, in that moment it felt as if there was nothing to worry about. They were together, safe, and filled with the warmth of their family. But they knew that the storm would come—just not today.