Chapter 1020: Reincarnation and the Spirit Mountain
(Note: Yesterday’s minor error regarding Xu Ye’s age at the orphanage has been corrected.)
Although this child was young, he was very intelligent, with bright eyes, a full forehead, and fair skin, lacking the high-altitude redness common among Tibetan herders.
Ye Fan’s expression turned solemn. He released his divine sense, sweeping it across every inch of the child’s body, even delving deep into his sea of consciousness, seeking to uncover the truth.
Reincarnation was a matter of great significance, one he had always wanted to understand. Did an afterlife truly exist? This touched upon an enormous issue.
If it did, one could imagine that one day in the future, a great storm would sweep across the entire star domain!
Which of the ancient great emperors were ordinary? If they could reincarnate, most would likely return in the future. What terrifying scenes would unfold? It was utterly unpredictable.
If one thought deeper, the ancient Heavenly Court had collapsed. What if those great figures, especially that Emperor Venerable, could reincarnate… Ye Fan shuddered.
If all this came true, heaven and earth would overturn, this universe would collapse—it was simply unimaginable!
It was said that this was a great era, the path to immortality about to open. If reincarnation and rebirth were a fact, then without a doubt, the ancient great emperors would reappear, and the trouble would be immense.
Ye Fan’s scalp tightened. Why were all the myriad clans awakening in this era? It seemed like an omen. The conjecture that had just flashed through his mind might come true.
Emperor Wu Shi, Battle Saint Emperor, Immortal Emperor… the Emperor Venerable of the ancient Heavenly Court—none of them were easy to deal with. Any one of them could overturn the ages!
Ye Fan was exceptionally cautious. He calmed his mind and did not hesitate to use his own “spirit” to enter this young body, traveling through every inch of flesh and blood, seeking to find an ancient Buddha.
The several high lamas were terrified. Seeing Ye Fan so serious, a golden miniature figure emerged from his brow, inspecting as if facing a great enemy, making their hearts pound as if they were about to suffocate.
This child had extraordinary bones, a good seedling for cultivation. In Buddhist terms, he was born with a Buddha bone. Moreover, though young, he was exceptionally wise, unlike ordinary children, showing a hint of precocious maturity.
There was no “spirit” hidden in his flesh, blood, or bones. Ye Fan could confirm this. His divine sense had nearly dissected every cell, thoroughly examining everything.
Finally, the golden miniature figure, the size of a fist, entered the child’s sea of consciousness—the fundamental place where the “spirit” resided. This time, Ye Fan carried the broken green immortal cauldron with him, enough to suppress any unexpected event.
A person’s subconscious was powerful, harboring their own “spirit.” The so-called potential was too mysterious, involving many things. If one’s innate “spirit” was strong enough, their potential would naturally be much greater.
Ye Fan searched his subconscious. According to legend, if reincarnation existed, past lives would be hidden in the subconscious, with all past experiences and divine abilities preserved there.
He immediately discovered the child’s “subconscious treasure”—a region of scriptures. This part of the subconscious had already awakened, allowing him to recite lost true scriptures.
The child’s sea of consciousness was extraordinary, with thunder and lightning, blue skies, and snowy mountains—very grand. This was a corner of the so-called potential region.
“All conditioned phenomena are impermanent, arising and ceasing. When arising and ceasing cease, nirvana is bliss…”
Suddenly, Ye Fan froze. He saw a blurry old monk, reciting scriptures while sitting high on a Dao mountain, located in an unawakened potential region.
Ye Fan felt as if struck by lightning. Could reincarnation truly exist? He had actually seen such an old monk in the child’s sea of consciousness—it was unimaginable.
He stood in a daze. Had reincarnation become reality? This was subversive, leaving him unable to comprehend. He only believed in the present life; when a person died, everything was empty.
Without a doubt, this was highly impactful, shaking his beliefs. Though the old monk was blurry and unclear, he was definitely an ancient Buddha.
Ye Fan steadied his mind. The golden miniature figure walked through the sea of consciousness, moving forward. He still didn’t quite believe it, wanting to understand and see clearly.
“The Tathagata attains nirvana, eternally cutting off birth and death…”
“If one listens with utmost sincerity, one will constantly attain boundless joy…”
He crossed this Dao mountain and paused in shock. He saw a range of mountains, with an old monk sitting cross-legged on each peak, all reciting scriptures.
Ye Fan was stunned. Even if reincarnation existed, so many “spirits” couldn’t coexist. Had he been reborn hundreds of times, all as bodhisattvas and ancient Buddhas?
At that moment, he became greatly settled and muttered to himself, “I have never believed in reincarnation. When a person dies, it’s like a lamp going out—they cannot persist or be reborn.”
He looked ahead and saw many old monks and ancient Buddhas, not from the same era. The scriptures were like an ocean, the ancient incantations like a river, stretching endlessly.
Ye Fan’s expression calmed. His eyes were deep, seeing to the end. He moved his hands, deducing past causes and effects—this was the heaven-defying art of observing the past.
Under a bright, clear sky, a three-year-old child fell into an underground cavern. Inside were stone Buddhas, an alms bowl, and decayed ancient scriptures. This was a Buddhist underground palace. On a stone platform, there was a “Buddha thought” to take this child for cultivation, and the herdsman couple agreed, overjoyed.
They were both devout Buddhists. This child could recite ancient scriptures from a young age, filling them with pride, and they were willing to send him into the Buddhist path for cultivation. Mainly, when the high lamas found him, they had displayed Buddhist arts, appearing like gods in this era.
The couple had other children, so they wouldn’t be lonely afterward. They considered it a great honor for this child to accompany the Buddha.
Ye Fan asked the child if he was willing. Most importantly, it was his own choice. Though young, he deserved respect, and Ye Fan wouldn’t force him.
“I am willing!” To his surprise, the six-year-old child was very decisive, expressing his willingness to follow him for cultivation.
Ye Fan sighed. At the other end of the starry sky, the old monk had done his utmost before his Dao dissolution, cutting off the mysterious shackles on him. Truly, he was seeing today’s “fruit.”
In the end, their group set out for the Spirit Mountain, because the child had recited the complete incantation. The small stone Buddha in Little Pine’s bell shone brilliantly, guiding the way to the Spirit Mountain.
This time, the path was bright and radiant, spreading into the distance without a break, leading to a range of majestic mountains. They entered smoothly.
Spirit Mountain!
It was still as before—a dry, lifeless land where everything had withered. Rows of ancient temples stood, silent and dead.
The high lamas were extremely excited, never expecting to set foot here one day. This was an ancient Dao site that existed before Shakyamuni, supreme and unparalleled.
Ye Fan, Divine Knight, Little Pine, Dragon Horse, Zhang Qingyang, Long Yuxuan, and the child named “Huahua” were also unsettled. They stood atop the mountain, gazing at the vast sea of peaks.
Sacred temples, ancient buildings—grand and majestic—carried the glory of Buddhism’s ancient past. So many events had occurred here.
Unfortunately, the spiritual springs had dried up, the plants had withered, and the former prosperity was gone. But no one dared to underestimate it, for they sensed a vast fluctuation, nurtured within the mountains and buildings—pure faith power.
Soon, they began to split up, searching this ancient Dao site. It was a treasure trove.
Ye Fan’s goal was simple: to find starry sky coordinates. But he found nothing. He entered ancient buildings one after another, searching for scripture libraries. Some places had powerful restrictions.
Dragon Horse wished he could turn the place upside down, digging three feet deep, searching everywhere for Buddhist treasures. Though he found some secret artifacts, none satisfied him.
There were no legendary saint weapons. The Buddhists had taken the most important things when they left. However, some precious items were still extraordinary.
The high lamas found some secret techniques and ancient incantations before a stone wall, all overjoyed.
Divine Knight stared blankly at a set of reliefs. He sensed a powerful law force and entered enlightenment on the spot, motionless, undisturbed by anyone.
Zhang Qingyang and Long Yuxuan also copied down some patterns resembling secret techniques from cliff inscriptions, carefully organizing them.
Dragon Horse let out a long neigh, finally finding a broken alms bowl—a weapon used by a saint. He was overjoyed. The five-colored sacred tree he had seized in Penglai was confiscated by Ye Fan and left there as a town sect treasure, which had displeased him. Now, he had finally obtained another item.
The child Huahua was full of Buddhist intuition. Soon, he found a fragmentary scripture, catching Ye Fan’s attention. It was the “Veda Sutra,” extremely ancient, which had even inspired Shakyamuni.
Though only one scroll, its value was immeasurable. Ye Fan had obtained a scroll in India before, and the art of observing the past was derived from it.
He stood there, carefully reading for a long time, then closed his eyes in contemplation for many hours. Only after several hours did he open his eyes.
Suddenly, everyone heard Little Pine’s cry. Ye Fan rushed over first. Though the Spirit Mountain had no special traps or killing intent, it had many powerful restrictions. He feared the little one might encounter trouble.
The tiny purple figure held the small stone Buddha, searching for treasures with great success. Wherever important artifacts were, the small stone Buddha would flash with light. Even Dragon Horse’s alms bowl was shamelessly “borrowed” from Little Pine.
Now, it had discovered a bronze furnace, nearly decayed, but emitting a strong fragrance that made one feel like ascending to immortality.
Moreover, it shook violently, as if a living being was inside. Little Pine hesitated, not daring to approach.
Because Ye Fan had instructed it not to take risks here. If anything strange happened, it should call for him to avoid accidents.
Dragon Horse, Divine Knight, and the high lamas were also alerted and rushed over. When they saw the bronze furnace, they were all shocked.
“This furnace is a saint weapon, but it’s destroyed, having lost its spiritual essence. The deity within has died.” This was Divine Knight’s conclusion.
Ye Fan nodded, showing a hint of gravity. It was a pity that a saint weapon had been destroyed like this.
“Eh, is this a demon-refining furnace?” Zhang Qingyang spoke. As a young celestial master of the Central Land Dao sect, he was very familiar with such ancient artifacts.
“There are words beside it…” the child Huahua said, pointing to a stone tablet nearby, densely covered with text, as if recording something extremely important.
Ye Fan, Divine Knight, and the others couldn’t read it. It was Sanskrit, all very ancient and incomprehensible.
The high lamas stepped forward, studying it seriously, their expressions turning grave. This was the origin script, the earliest traces of Sanskrit, obscure and difficult.
Fortunately, they had studied it diligently and could roughly recognize these ancient characters. When they understood most of it, their faces changed.
“This is a secret text carved by later virtuous and holy monks before they evacuated the Spirit Mountain, recording the secret of this bronze furnace,” one high lama said solemnly.
“Read on. See what it says.”
Another high lama, shocked, said, “This is a furnace personally sealed by Shakyamuni!”
At that moment, the furnace shook again, as if some living being was trying to break out, startling everyone.
A saint weapon’s spiritual essence had been exhausted, even the deity within had died. What exactly was inside?
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