You've only been cultivating for a few years, and you're already talking about cultivating

Besides, there are many more spirits wandering among the plants and trees.

Some resembled a dancing flame, bright red, sometimes large and sometimes small.

Some resemble pools of flowing mercury, gleaming silver, meandering across the ground.

Some resembled fallen leaves blown by the wind, drifting lightly and swirling in the air.

They didn't speak, but a low, buzzing sound filled the air, like countless tiny voices coming together. It was impossible to tell who was saying what, but one could feel the pure, unadulterated joy in those voices.

Then, he arrived.

His figure appeared above this space, as huge as a giant standing between heaven and earth.

His head disappeared into the soft light above him, the top invisible. His feet stood at the end of the river of light, the bottom unseen.

He was wearing a drab gray monk's robe, but in this space, the robe was no longer drab gray; instead, it shimmered with golden light, like a cassock woven from sunlight.

His face was no longer covered by dirt; it was clean, thin, and well-defined, with a serene and compassionate look that seemed otherworldly.

He radiated golden light, which seeped from every pore, from every strand of his hair, and from his slightly parted lips, enveloping him in a warm, bright halo, like a Buddha who had stepped out of a mural.

Those thumb-sized sprites were the first to discover him.

They stopped their wings, raised their heads, and stared blankly at the huge, luminous figure that had descended from the sky, their eyes barely larger than sesame seeds.

Then they began to cheer.

"Buddha has come! Buddha has come!"

The sound was as faint as the flapping of a mosquito's wings, but countless tiny sounds combined to form a buzzing, warm wave filled with endless joy.

It surges from one end of the river of light to the other, and from the other to this end, surging back and forth endlessly.

The spirits that resembled flames, mercury, and fallen leaves also stirred, leaping, wandering, and spinning, scattering light powder everywhere and refracting golden light everywhere, making the whole space look like a pot of boiling, colorful soup.

But the giant shook his head.

He shook his head slightly, slowly and gently, but the golden light swayed with his movement, as if sighing.

"I am not Buddha," he said, his voice descending from above like the tolling of a bell, like thunder, and like a father's whisper in his child's ear, deep and gentle, resounding throughout the entire space.

"I am Ksitigarbha, who is here to save people."

As he spoke, figures appeared one after another at the edge of the strange space.

They emerged from nothingness, appeared from darkness, and gathered from all directions.

They were all monks, each wearing a gray robe, and each possessed a peculiar, otherworldly serenity in their eyes.

Some of them were young, some were old, some were tall and thin, and some were short and stout, but the way they looked at the golden giant was the same.

There was no awe, no fanaticism, no worship in that gaze, only a sense of peace.

Among them were Chan Neng, the senior brother of Chan Kong whom Qi Fei had met, and Chan Kuang, whom he had met in Nanshan.

Zen stood at the front of the crowd, hands clasped together, head slightly bowed, his expression exactly the same as all the monks around him.

They asked in unison, "What are your orders, Sage?"

The golden giant lowered his head, looking at the dark mass of people in front of him.

He began, "If one person tries to save one person at a time, when will they be able to save them all? There are countless beings in the world, as numerous as the sands of a great river, as numerous as dust particles in the sky. Even if one person exhausts their entire life, how many can they save?"

Without hesitation, he gave the answer.

"Only countless sentient beings can liberate countless sentient beings."

The monks looked at the golden giant and said:

"All beings suffer. I only wish to join the wise in guiding all beings to liberation."

Although their expressions are exactly the same, they are actually different.

They have different names, different ages, different pasts, and different stories, but they all come from Chanxin Temple!

Zenxin Temple emphasizes "all phenomena are empty," but what comes after "all phenomena are empty"? Does it mean disregarding shame, face, and morality to do inexplicable things?

Zenshin-ji Temple refers to this behavior as "seeing through all appearances".

But they still have a yardstick in their hearts to measure their behavior, which makes them do things that are shameful, shameful, and moral.

The monks of Chanxin Temple ridiculed the actions of people like them, saying they were still caught up in appearances and that their spiritual practice was insufficient.

But they are not.

Only after coming into contact with the giants did they realize that it was not their fault to feel compassion for all living beings who were suffering.

Because they have compassion in their hearts, they empathize with the suffering of others, and they want to help others when they are sinking.

The golden giant heard their words and uttered only one word.

"good."

Then he sat down.

He sat cross-legged, and golden light condensed on his body into a city with his movements.

The city rose abruptly from the ground, emerging from golden light and solidifying from nothingness, as if someone had cast a city with a beam of light.

The city walls are golden, towering into the clouds. There are no doors or windows on the walls, only continuous, wave-like golden patterns.

Within the city, streets crisscross, houses stand in neat rows, and temples abound.

Every building is golden, every brick and tile gleams with a warm luster, like a city forged by the alternation of sunset and dawn.

"We share a common world and a common body, therefore we share a common 'mind' and 'consciousness'."

The giant's voice descended from above the city; he was no longer on the city walls but inside them.

In the city, he transformed into a clock.

The bell hung in the very center of the city, suspended between heaven and earth. There were no patterns or words on the bell, only a faint, almost imperceptible golden light.

It is not large, yet it makes you feel that it should be very large; it is not tall, yet it makes you feel that it should be as tall as the sky.

Its existence is itself a contradiction, an indescribable ambiguity, a feeling of being both here and not here.

"This city," the giant's voice came from the bell, "can also be called Alaya."

All sentient beings live in the same world, and all have bodies, ears, eyes, nose, and tongue, and all have eye consciousness, ear consciousness, nose consciousness, tongue consciousness, body consciousness, and mind consciousness.

They see the same sun, moon, and stars, hear the same wind, rain, and thunder, breathe the same air, and feel the same temperature.

Since the external world is shared, is the inner, deepest, most hidden place also a shared consciousness?

This city is the embodiment of this "commonality".

The giant bell trembled slightly.

The bell rang.

The bell tolled round and round, growing louder and farther until it reached every corner of the golden city, overflowing the city walls, flowing into the river of light, into the grass and trees, into the tiny sprites, and into the ends of this space.

The bells tolled, and so did the giant's voice.

"May the bells of Alaya resonate in the hearts of all beings!"

The sound of the bell also represents all living beings!