Chapter 67
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: Thousand Buddha Hall Face-Off
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Dongcheon Lama slowly nodded.
“Of course. For a donation like this, it’s only right that I personally perform the blessing.”
Dongcheon Lama handed the tray to the attendant standing at his side and continued.
“Have it carried to the Thousand Buddha Hall right away. I’ll wait for that old man there.”
“I shall convey your orders.”
As the attendant bowed deeply and withdrew, Dongcheon Lama rose to his feet.
“Everyone, rest easy today. My reading of the heavens tells me the day of departure is neither today nor tomorrow.”
The experts of the Serjang bowed their heads in acknowledgment, and Dongcheon Lama vanished down the corridor behind the hall.
The Thousand Buddha Hall lived up to its name, enshrining a thousand Buddha statues and holding pride of place among the halls of the Potala Palace.
To receive an outside visitor there was to show them the utmost respect—an event so rare it might happen only a handful of times a year.
And those few occasions were typically reserved for envoys from the various powers beyond the border.
The statues varied greatly in size, each with a slightly different appearance and crafted from different materials.
Most were carved from wood, but some were fashioned from ivory, and there were even Buddhas shaped from entire lumps of gold.
Dongcheon Lama sat in majestic array before the hall.
He wore a dazzling golden cassock and a jeweled golden hat, flanked by two lama monks holding ceremonial swords at the ready.
Soon the doors opened, and the earlier attendant led an old man inside.
The old man, his back hunched in discomfort, kept rubbing at his waist.
“Here, hand over that staff, and as instructed, perform nine full prostrations.”
The attendant extended his hand to the old man.
As the old man moved to hand over the staff, Dongcheon Lama’s voice echoed through the Thousand Buddha Hall.
“Enough. That staff is one of the old man’s legs—how can you demand he surrender it? What joy would nine prostrations bring me?”
Rebuked, the attendant dared not reply. He bowed deeply and backed out of the hall.
Now the room held only Dongcheon Lama, his two attendant lamas, and U Gyeongcheon.
U Gyeongcheon hunched his back even further, offered a bow that was no true bow, and slowly advanced.
He stopped about three meters from Dongcheon Lama, then slowly straightened his waist.
“This is a problem. My bones are stiffening more by the day.”
As U Gyeongcheon rubbed his waist and stood tall, Dongcheon Lama’s expression shifted.
U Gyeongcheon’s gaze—indifferent yet supremely arrogant—had met his own.
These were not the eyes of some pitiful old man begging for a blessing.
“W-Who are you?”
U Gyeongcheon stood straight, fixed Dongcheon Lama with his stare, and smiled.
“Truly glad to see you. I’ve walked a long, long road to meet you.”
No sooner had U Gyeongcheon’s arrogant words fallen than the two lamas guarding Dongcheon Lama’s sides lunged, swinging their ceremonial swords.
Their footwork was blindingly swift, their sword arts ferociously powerful.
In an instant, blades wreathed in radiant golden sword auras targeted U Gyeongcheon’s neck and waist.
U Gyeongcheon merely raised his staff horizontally and gave it a slight push.
Boom. Crack...
Incredibly, the swords shattered into fragments that scattered everywhere, while the two lamas flew like bloody rags to crash into a corner of the hall.
Startled by the sight, Dongcheon Lama shot to his feet—only for U Gyeongcheon to raise one hand.
“Stop. I didn’t come here to fight.”
“You’re definitely Cult Leader U. To witness the Northern Sea Divine Art in this Thousand Buddha Hall...”
Dongcheon Lama swiftly regained his composure and murmured gravely.
“Yes. I am U Gyeongcheon.”
“Indeed a madman. I’ve heard the Ming Cult’s leader is arrogantly insane.”
“There are reasons for that, aren’t there? Care to hear them?”
“Hmph. First I need to see your skill. Does the world bend so easily?”
“Kekeke... Well said. Where in this world is anything easy? Not for you, the Living Buddha—or even me, incarnation of the Ming Lord... Hahaha!”
Whatever amused him so, U Gyeongcheon burst into wild laughter, tears streaming down his face.
Watching, Dongcheon Lama shrugged off the golden cassock draped over his shoulders.
“If you’ve come this far, you must have steeled yourself for it.”
Now Dongcheon Lama rolled up the sleeves of his red robe.
At that moment, the two lamas in the corner groaned as they struggled to their feet.
They were battered, but their bones seemed intact.
One dashed to the hanging bell nearby and drove a fist at it.
He meant to sound the alarm for the crisis unfolding here.
But no bell tolled.
U Gyeongcheon had already sent a puff of soft energy at it.
The instant the lama’s fist connected, the bell crumbled to dust.
“I hate needless hassle. You two should stay down a while longer.”
As U Gyeongcheon extended a hand toward the pair, Dongcheon Lama unleashed a palm strike.
Whoooosh...
In that instant, every bit of air in the room quivered and surged toward U Gyeongcheon.
The compressed air sharpened to a blade keener than steel, stabbing at U Gyeongcheon’s chest vital.
“Fine palm art indeed. Hehehe.”
U Gyeongcheon met it with a single fist.
At the same time, he swung his staff in the opposite direction with his other hand.
Incredibly, the fist wind he unleashed sucked in Dongcheon Lama’s palm force like a vortex and made it vanish without a trace.
And the energy from his staff enveloped the two lamas behind him.
What U Gyeongcheon had just unleashed was the famed Seventy-Two Empty Clarity Fist.
Originally an esoteric Daoist supreme art devised centuries ago by a Quanzhen Sect genius, it had passed to the Great Cloud Bright Religion—which stood at the heart of the anti-Mongol wars—and now, with even Quanzhen gone, its sole master was Cult Leader U Gyeongcheon.
Its principle: the light and empty enveloping the heavy and solid.
Yet its techniques were so intricate and profound that even when taught, few could master it.
In the present age, only Wudang’s Taiji Fist and Cotton Palm followed a similar path.
Especially in olden days, it had proven most effective against the ferocious external arts of Xijiang’s lamas—making U Gyeongcheon’s choice here perfectly apt.
“To receive your Dragon Elephant Prajna Art with my Empty Clarity Fist now—what twist of fate is this? Kekekeke.”
Indeed. The palm strike Dongcheon Lama had just unleashed was the Dragon Elephant Prajna Art, the fiercest of Xijiang’s martial arts—surpassing even the Great Mudra in sheer power.
With that one exchange, Dongcheon Lama gauged U Gyeongcheon’s level.
Of course, if he unleashed his recently perfected Great Luo Blood Buddha Divine Art, the story would change—but that was a final resort to be held in reserve.
“I’m the one wondering what fate brought this. What do you want that you’d come here and do all this?”
Dongcheon Lama’s tone subtly shifted.
Only then did U Gyeongcheon lean on his staff and plop down where he stood.
“Aigoo... Used a bit of strength, and now I’m worn out again. You sit too.”
Dongcheon Lama glared at U Gyeongcheon but slowly sank down as well.
The two lamas lay fallen, and silence reigned beyond the Thousand Buddha Hall.
“More importantly, did you like the stone I brought as an offering? I picked it up ages ago—useless to me, so I figured it’d make a fine tribute for the hall.”
Dongcheon Lama glanced at the demon-eye stone atop the table to his left.
“It’s not free. You’re not trying to buy your life with that, are you?”
“Kekeke... Still set on killing me?”
“That depends on you. That’s why you came here.”
“Hehehe, what other reason would a pitiful old man near death have for seeking out the Buddha? I seek only your bodhicitta and compassion, as the Living Buddha.”
“Hmph. And the lamas of Galrok Temple were slaughtered in search of your bodhicitta and compassion?”
When Dongcheon Lama retorted sharply with anger in his voice, U Gyeongcheon fired back even more furiously.
“Gal! Do you know what your lamas did in the Central Plains? Long ago, they raped countless women of the Central Plains and wore the severed heads of children at their waists. And you’re still committing such outrages.”
“What exactly did you witness to say that?”
“You’re still making those grotesque dharma vessels. And right in my path, no less—did you think I could just walk on by?”
Dongcheon Lama fell momentarily speechless.
Officially, they claimed to use the pure corpses of the already dead for such vessels—but the truth was otherwise.
It was an ancient tradition of Xijiang’s Esoteric Buddhism, one even he, the Living Buddha and Dharma King of the age, could not—or would not—halt.
After all, he himself had sacrificed countless lives to cultivate his Great Luo Blood Buddha Divine Art. Who was he to forbid it?
Per Xijiang Esoteric teachings, the living body was but a shell—a mere stepping stone to the other shore before nirvana.
“Unlike how you seem, you’ve got quite the busybody streak. Came all the way into Xijiang to pass judgment on our customs?”
“I am one duty-bound to enact the Ming Lord’s teachings in this world. I can’t just ignore such sights.”
“Fine, set that aside. What did you do with Abbot Garampa’s soul of Galrok Temple?”
At the question, U Gyeongcheon let out a scoffing laugh first.
“Heh heh heh. He’s right here. Take him if you want.”
With that, U Gyeongcheon raised his right hand.
Eerily, a faint red energy gathered in his palm, slowly coalescing into a distinct sphere.
But even after taking shape, the red glow remained tethered to his palm, quivering faintly.
“Hand it over. Time to release this dead soul.”
Seeing it, Dongcheon Lama extended his hand and gave a light wave.
At once, U Gyeongcheon held out his palm slightly, and Garampa’s red soul faded like dust caught in the wind, leaving only a hazy glow.
“Then why bring thousands of mounted warriors with you?”
“Hmm... You’ll understand once you hear why I sought you out.”
“Out with it, then. What brings the Great Cloud Bright Religion’s Cult Leader U—whose fame shakes heaven and earth—here to me in Xijiang?”
Even under Dongcheon Lama’s urging, U Gyeongcheon kept silent for a long while before letting out a deep sigh.
Then, moments later, he began slowly shrugging off the shabby kasaya draped over his upper body.
Dongcheon Lama watched in silence, only to furrow his brow moments later and sigh deeply himself.