Sun Yuan’s soul was lost, his body fell to the ground, sending forth a thunderous sound, like a meteor crashing into the Nine Provinces— even the earth itself trembled slightly.
Jiang Li tossed the corpse to Yu Yin, letting her handle it as she wished— whether to refine it into a puppet or burn it to vent anger, it made no difference to him. Yu Yin bit her cherry lips lightly, her gaze upon Jiang Li filled with complicated emotions.
She had risked her life and poured every ounce of her heart and effort to finally break through to the Tribulation Transcendence Stage, yet Jiang Li had easily slain a peak Tribulation expert who hadn’t even had the chance to resist. Was the Mahayana Stage really this terrifying?
With the blessing of national fate upon her now, wielding an Immortal Artifact in hand— how many moves could she last against Jiang Li? Perhaps five, at most eight. She could not even imagine making it to the tenth.
Jiang Li gave Yu Yin a sidelong glance, seeing the unease within her, but said nothing. Unlike Saintess Jing Xin, Yu Yin’s Dao Heart was pure and resolute. What she experienced now was betrayal and failure, and then, confronted by such an immense gap between her and Jiang Li, her heart wavered.
Given a few days of quiet reflection, she would surely be able to shatter this heart barrier on her own. After that, Jiang Li sent Ji Kongkong back to the Great Zhou. When Ji Zhi saw Jiang Li’s expression, an inexplicable chill crept into his heart.
Since he had become the Human Emperor, Ji Zhi had never seen Jiang Li’s face so dark. Though it seemed calm on the surface, anyone could feel that behind this stillness brewed an earth-shattering rage. Jiang Li merely set Ji Kongkong down and flew off without a single word.
From beginning to end, Ji Zhi too remained silent. He knew—the Nine Provinces were about to change. … In the far western reaches of the Nine Provinces lay the Buddhist Sect.
There, the influence of Buddhist Dharma permeated every inch of space, even the very land gave off a faint luminescence—especially clear at night. Beside the Buddhist domain stood a nation called the Kindness Realm Kingdom. Though not counted among the Nine Great Imperial Dynasties, it was still quite powerful.
Perhaps due to its closeness with the Buddhist Sect, its people lived poor yet content lives. Often one could see thin, frail elders surrounded by grandchildren, basking in the warmth of family.
Pull aside any random passerby and they could recite a segment of Buddhist Sutra for you—perhaps even explain a few lessons—allowing one to grasp superficial concepts such as “reincarnation,” “karma,” “cosmos,” or “the three thousand worlds.”
Ancient legends told that beneath the Kindness Realm Kingdom, buried deep in the earth, lay a massive golden swastika, said to be the nation’s guardian treasure. Some skeptical scholars had once dug deep in pursuit of it, but found nothing. When they reached hard-packed soil they could no longer dig through, they had to give up in disappointment.
The Kindness Realm Kingdom could well be considered a vassal to the Buddhist Sect. The entire nation worshipped Buddhism—every household enshrining a Buddha statue. They believed firmly that good and evil are repaid, that suffering in this life is repayment for the past, and that performing good deeds now ensures happiness in the next life.
Ordinary cultivators did not understand the true essence of Buddhism, and thus could not comprehend such way of life. Therefore, few cultivators ever visited the Kindness Realm Kingdom. Even merchants of the Heavenly Mystery Tower—renowned for their commerce across all lands—rarely conducted business here.
For the people here had no desires nor ambitions; none would ever visit the Tower to purchase intelligence. Jiang Li walked through the Kindness Realm Kingdom, measuring the density of Buddhist Dharma that filled the atmosphere. He could see many heading in the same direction as himself—Mount Sumeru.
The difference was, Jiang Li walked toward it upright, while the people of the Kindness Realm Kingdom approached it kneeling. With each step they took, they would press their palms together, prostrate, then rise again, step forward once more, and kowtow once more—repeating endlessly.
At Mount Sumeru, every day there would be high monks opening platforms to preach, explaining the profound meanings of the Dharma. All were welcome; there was no gate or threshold. Yet few cultivators liked to attend.
To them, Buddhist lectures were dull and obscure, hard to comprehend. Even after listening, their cultivation wouldn’t increase—it was not, in their eyes, worth their time. Jiang Li climbed Mount Sumeru one step at a time, using no magical power, intending to ascend all one hundred thousand steps purely with his physical body.
The steps of Mount Sumeru were extraordinary. Those who used magical power could ascend with ease; but without it, relying on pure flesh, each step felt like shouldering a mountain. Step by step, mountain upon mountain—by the time one reached the top, it was as though they had carried one hundred thousand mountains upon their back.
It was said this was the trial left behind by the Buddha himself. To climb all one hundred thousand steps with one’s mortal body was to be granted an audience with the True Buddha. Many devout Buddhists had tried, yet none had ever made it past three thousand steps.
Once, Jiang Li had disbelieved such a legend. But today, he wanted to test it for himself. His true face was uncovered, alarming all the eminent monks meditating across Mount Sumeru.
One after another, they left their monasteries, curious to see what the current Human Emperor intended to do. One thousand, two thousand, three thousand… The barrier that had stopped countless pilgrims, Jiang Li crossed with ease.
His steps were solemn and steady—yet light—showing no signs of strain, as if the mountain itself offered no resistance to him. Five thousand, ten thousand, fifteen thousand, twenty thousand… The monks exchanged glances, seeing the shock in each other’s eyes.
Even at twenty thousand steps, the current Human Emperor showed not the least difficulty. No longer could they maintain their usual meditative serenity. They began to whisper among themselves.
“What is the Human Emperor seeking?”
“Is he troubled in his heart, seeking the True Buddha for an answer?”
The concept of a True Buddha was not the same as that of an ascended Immortal.
A True Buddha referred to one who was Awakened—a being who had opened not only the Six Senses, but also the seventh, the Manas Consciousness, and the eighth, the Alaya Consciousness—ever-abiding, indestructible, its nature like vajra, always manifesting the inherent purity and nirvanic truth of original nature.
Precisely because of this, ordinary cultivators found Buddhist teachings too difficult and obscure, and therefore avoided listening. Still, though they did not truly understand the Buddhist hierarchy, most knew this much—that the Buddhist Sect held a Present True Buddha, and a Future True Buddha.
The Present True Buddha was the Old Sumeru Buddha, whose nine thousand eight hundred years of longevity made him the oldest existence among those in the Tribulation Transcendence Stage. His mastery of the Dao of Space was unmatched across the Nine Provinces. Even during the wars against the Heavenly Demons, he had intervened numerous times, aiding the Human Race.
The Future True Buddha was Buddha Child Wuzhi—possessing such profound wisdom that even the Old Sumeru Buddha admitted inferiority. Thirty thousand steps, forty thousand, fifty thousand… The count seemed meaningless before Jiang Li.
His face was blank, step after step unbroken.
Eighty thousand. Ninety thousand.
One hundred thousand. Jiang Li ascended Mount Sumeru with pure bodily strength, accomplishing an unprecedented feat—yet he felt no joy at all. The legend was false.
Even after climbing all one hundred thousand steps, there was no True Buddha to be seen.
“Furthermore, Subhuti! If a good man or good woman upholds and recites this sutra, and should be despised or slandered by others, know that such a person’s past karma which ought to have cast them into evil realms shall now be nullified through such human contempt, and they shall soon attain Anuttara Samyak Sambodhi…”
The Old Sumeru Buddha was tall and robust, with thick lips and long hanging earlobes. His aged face shone with light, his flesh rising like a crown of flesh atop his head—one of the Thirty-Two Auspicious Marks of a Buddha. Barefoot and bare-armed, he sat upon a golden lotus, thumb and middle finger joined, preaching to his disciples.
His disciples listened in deep ecstasy—until his chanting suddenly halted.
“Good indeed. Benefactor Jiang, for what reason have you come? Why do you bear such a look, as though on the verge of tears?”
Startled, the disciples turned their heads, and saw the current Human Emperor’s face twisted in turmoil—as if he had witnessed a revered figure commit the gravest of sins, one that only death could atone for.
“Old Buddha,” Jiang Li’s voice trembled, “tell me—how did you become an Immortal?”
He had climbed to the peak of Mount Sumeru, yet had not seen the True Buddha. He had only seen—an Immortal who ate humans.
(End of Chapter)