She also admired him. Pei Ji had an unprecedented thought, wanting to let more people know that Ningning gave it to him. Similar to a kind of declaration of sovereignty, or a naive and secretive display. How childish. Ningning smiled softly. Perhaps hearing her laughter, Pei Ji pressed his palm with his thumb, silently and weakly protesting. Following Tian Xianzi through the crowded crowd, they soon arrived at the central lectern of Fan Yin Temple. "The elders who are teaching small classes are all here at the lectern. You can take a look by yourselves, and if you're interested, go and try them out." After Tian Xianzi finished introducing, he hurriedly smiled, "I have to compete with the abbot of Fan Yin Temple. I'll take my leave first, don't worry." The Master was a genuine sword fanatic, and every time he arrived in a new place, he had to have a match with the local experts. - The result was often both sides injured, Tian Xianzi had no money for healing, and could only mooch food and drink pitifully, staying in the opponent's sect as a parasite. Although it was not his intention, Ningning had reason to suspect that this was a new form of hype. She was used to this and waved goodbye to Tian Xianzi, then turned her head and systematically observed the masters on the lectern. This small class recruitment was very similar to a club recruitment event, with each elder sitting on cushions, with many small golden characters floating beside them, all condensed with spiritual power, used to detail the contents of the small classes. "I attended a Buddhist convention once before." Zheng Weiqi seemed to recall an unpleasant old story, her features gradually becoming a rugged bitter melon, "Anyway... you must choose carefully. If you encounter unreliable monks, you will be tortured miserably." Ningning asked curiously, "Senior Sister, which small class did you choose last time?" Zheng Weiqi's expression slightly froze, "Harmony in Music Appreciation." He Zhizhou chuckled, "Senior Sister Zheng, were you assigned to ring the bell?" He chuckled and transmitted a message to Ningning, "Isn't this similar to that! In the Notre-Dame Cathedral, there's the bell-ringing hunchback Amoxicillin, and in Fan Yin Temple, there's the bell-ringing sword cultivator Zheng Weiqi!" Ningning glanced at him in shock. What Amoxicillin, it's obviously Quasimodo. "Well, not really, the bell is taken care of day and night by specific people, I'm not qualified." Zheng Weiqi's eyes were absent, lost in memories, "I just joined dozens of monks in the main hall, sat in a dark room covered with black cloth, and rang the wooden fish for three days and nights while reciting scriptures - do you want to hear it? Oṃ maṇi padme huṃ, Om Shakyamuniye Svāhā..." - I definitely don't want to hear it! And Senior Sister's eyes were lifeless, her tone becoming more and more like a robotic recorder! That Buddhist scripture was clearly etched into her DNA, super creepy! "Look over there." Lin Xun, who had been silent, suddenly spoke. He still wasn't used to crowded places, and when he spoke, he took a step closer to He Zhizhou, "Is that Yonggui Junior Master? Why is he sitting on a cushion like the elders?" Following his gaze, Ningning did indeed see a familiar figure. Yonggui also seemed to see them, nodded, and showed an extremely kind smile.
"The elder in the Buddhist sect has limited energy. Some accomplished disciples can also have the opportunity to open small classes." Zheng Weiqi patiently explained, frowning, "But this... doesn't seem very reliable."
Ningning agreed, "Senior Sister, be confident and remove the 'seems.'"
Although Yonggui's Buddhist rap was bizarre, music was just an external cultivation method. In terms of personal habits, he wasn't that strange. That's why the small golden characters floating around the little monk read orderly: 'Enlightenment in Zen.'
"Life is like flowing clouds and water, only by realizing that the five aggregates are empty can one be without regrets. Break through desires, anger, and delusions, and achieve enlightenment in the stance of Zen." Yonggui spoke slowly, "Transcend the five elements, view things with your original mind, this is 'Zen' in the Buddhist sect. If anyone encounters difficulties in life, feel free to discuss with me, maybe I can help you understand."
"Really?" Zheng Weiqi showed some interest, "Little Master, I want to make money, practice swordsmanship, and go down the mountain to subdue demons, but time is too limited nowadays, I can't balance everything, what should I do?"
Yonggui smiled, "What's so difficult about that?" He then lowered his head, rummaged in his storage bag for a while, and after a moment, took out a few small stones and a wooden cup.
As expected, the little monk indeed put the stones into the wooden cup, then looked at Zheng Weiqi, "Donor, is the cup full?"
This routine was so cliché. Given his skill in digging through the storage bag, this so-called 'Zen trick' should be a mass-produced philosophical story that could fit in with similar suitable problems.
Zheng Weiqi, as if dealing with a slightly mentally challenged person, cooperatively said, "It's full."
"In fact, it's not." Yonggui, still young, saw her falling for his trick and was delighted. He grinned, then took out a handful of fine sand from the storage bag, gradually filling the gaps between the stones, "Look, now it's full."
His voice and actions were seamless. Zheng Weiqi pretended to have an epiphany and clapped in appreciation. Unexpectedly, she heard a serious voice beside her, "No, that's not right, it's not full!"
It was He Zhizhou.
"The basic component of sand is silica, and hydrochloric acid can dissolve silica!" He Zhizhou's eyes sparkled with excitement as he continued explaining, "As for the stones in the cup, they are limestone, mainly composed of calcium carbonate. By adding a suitable amount of dilute hydrochloric acid, a dissolution reaction can occur. In this way, a large space can be emptied in the cup—as long as the chemical reaction continues, the cup can never be full, it's truly amazing!"
Yonggui couldn't understand this gibberish and looked at him as if he was looking at a mental patient.
Yonggui tried to sound diplomatic, "Donor... Are you reciting some ancient spell?"
Praised by Zheng Weiqi, Yonggui almost felt ecstatic.
Although Senior Sister Zheng was occasionally unreliable, she was ultimately a good young cultivator who respected the old and loved the young. Seeing him being so pure, her righteous heart surged, and she signed up in the little monk's hands.
Ningning wasn't very interested in the small classes. Instead of staying in the main hall for several days and nights, she preferred to roam freely around Fan Yin Temple. Pei Ji was also reluctant to participate, so the two of them casually wandered around the debate platform.
He Zhizhou and Lin Xun enjoyed joining in the fun and checked out various classes. When Ningning later asked which class they had decided on, He Zhizhou smirked, pointing to an old monk not far away.
Ningning raised her eyes and glanced at the small golden characters beside the person, and with just a quick glance, she couldn't help but be shocked.
Wow, four big characters were written on it: 'Seduction Discipline.'
*
Fan Yin Temple, although named a "temple," is actually enormous in size, much more than just a temple. Surrounded by mountains from all sides, it is impossible to explore it all in just a day. Ningning, mindful of Pei Ji's injuries, didn't venture to the colder mountains but explored near the temple instead. When they returned to the temple, dusk had already set in.
To their surprise, as they walked a few steps past the temple gate, they saw He Zhizhou and Lin Xun in a nearby courtyard. Interested in their small class, Ningning curiously led Pei Ji forward and was slightly stunned when she saw the scene in the courtyard.
Many participants in the class were all dedicated to Buddhist cultivation. Among them, the only laypeople were He Zhizhou and Lin Xun. Despite the coldness in the courtyard, everyone had removed their outer garments and held scriptures in their hands. The Buddhist cultivators were focused, some even barely dressed, gathering energy in their dantian and chanting loudly with full breath, creating a resounding sound.
Compared to them, He Zhizhou and Lin Xun seemed like two weak chicks. Huddled together in a chilly corner, they looked confused and shivered from the cold. Despite trembling, they pitifully opened the scriptures in their hands and recited familiar phrases: "Gate, gate, paragate, parasamgate..."
The scene was distressing, but in the center of the courtyard sat a smiling old monk and a joyful Ming Kong. In front of them, a steaming stove was placed.
