leonardwarren Chapter 17 The monkey is having a good time! Even you, Manjushri Bodhisattva, are getting beaten dow
Chapter 17 The monkey is having a good time! Even you, Manjushri Bodhisattva, are getting beaten dow
Lu Chen smiled.
"Bodhisattva, you spoke too soon."
"Oh?"
"Let's look at the time," Lu Chen said slowly. "You were supposed to be waiting in the back to capture the Azure Lion, right?"
Manjushri's hand paused.
"Blue Lion?"
"It's your mount, isn't it?" Lu Chen said innocently. "According to your original plan at Mount Ling, the Green Lion was supposed to descend to the mortal realm after a while, pretend to be a king in Wuji Kingdom, and cause trouble for Tang Sanzang's side. You were supposed to step in and take it back in the end."
"Wasn't this originally supposed to be your later script?"
"You've come down ahead of schedule."
"What about the Blue Lion?"
"The script arranged by the Buddhist community is all messed up."
Manjushri's expression changed completely.
The Green Lion descended to the mortal realm to cause calamity, disguised himself as the King of Wuji, and was ultimately subdued by Manjushri himself—this was a follow-up arrangement known only to a select few within Mount Ling. Even Guanyin Bodhisattva might not know the details.
How could a mere mortal know these things?
Manjushri's tone turned completely somber.
"Who exactly are you?"
Lu Chen waved his hand.
"unimportant."
"The important thing is—"
He looked up, his smile gentle, but his eyes held a hint of mockery.
"Now that you're here, you're not leaving."
Manjushri's prayer beads became taut.
He stopped talking.
A sword light flew out from his hand.
The Sword of Wisdom.
This sword is recognized throughout the Three Realms as a powerful weapon of Buddhism. In the past, this sword cut through 360 heretical sects, and its righteous Buddhist light was enough to purify all things.
The sword light, like a white rainbow piercing the sun, slashed straight down at Lu Chen.
Lu Chen had somehow gotten his hands on the broken wooden stick.
He simply raised his hand.
On the wooden stick—
A single, identical beam of intelligent sword light.
The same white light.
The same Buddhist intent.
Equally sharp.
The moment the two sword lights collided, a huge white halo exploded in the valley.
With a deafening roar, rubble flew for miles.
Sun Wukong and Manjushri's two attendants, who were far away, were simultaneously thrown back three steps by the shockwave.
The halo spread out.
Lu Chen stood still.
Manjushri stood still.
In the middle were two intersecting sword lights of wisdom, neither able to suppress the other.
It's a 50/50 split.
Manjushri's pupils suddenly contracted.
His sword of wisdom. His natal magical weapon.
It was copied exactly by a mortal's broken wooden stick.
That's impossible.
The Sword of Wisdom was his natal treasure that led to his enlightenment, and its sword intent was the essence of his entire cultivation. How could a mortal without cultivation possibly replicate the same sword intent?
Even other bodhisattvas, without Manjushri's Buddhist cultivation, could not replicate the true Buddhist intent on this sword.
But what was replicated on Lu Chen's wooden stick was the true light of wisdom.
The same.
Exactly.
Manjushri did not believe in evil.
He sheathed the Sword of Wisdom and waved his hand.
The Seven Treasures Tree.
One of his signature treasures was a small tree composed entirely of seven kinds of precious light. Each of these lights could transform into a different offensive force, and together they formed the Seven-Path Mystic Artifact.
Seven beams of light attacked Lu Chen simultaneously from seven different directions.
The wooden stick in Lu Chen's hand.
Click click click click click click.
It was divided into seven strands.
The tip of each one transforms into a pattern of precious light.
Jin Baoguang to Jin Baoguang.
Silver light against silver light.
Red jewel light, blue jewel light, purple jewel light, white jewel light, yellow jewel light.
Seven against seven.
Each pair is a 50/50 chance.
Manjushri's hands began to tremble.
This is no longer simply "copying techniques." It is copying the entire Buddhist teachings of his Manjushri lineage.
Each of the precious lights emanating from the Seven Treasures Tree corresponds to a Buddhist esoteric practice, a profound mystery that only Manjushri's disciples can grasp. How could an ordinary person possibly replicate it instantly?
But the facts are right before our eyes.
Manjushri took a deep breath and unleashed his innate magic technique.
The mudra of Yamantaka Bodhisattva.
He formed a hand seal, and a pure Buddhist power rose from his body, transforming into a huge golden handprint that pressed down on Lu Chen.
This is his most treasured possession.
Manjushri Bodhisattva's most prized personal Dharma techniques are incomparable to external Dharma treasures or natal artifacts.
The instant the Vajrabhairava mudra pressed down, the wooden stick in Lu Chen's hand—
No.
The wooden stick didn't move.
Lu Chen simply formed a hand seal with his hands.
The same mudra as Manjushri's.
An identical Buddhist power transformed into an identical golden handprint, rising from Lu Chen and colliding with Manjushri.
The two Vajrabhairava mudras collided violently in the air.
A muffled buzzing sound.
Golden light filled the sky.
The earth is shaking and the mountains are shaking.
When the light faded, both handprints disappeared simultaneously.
It's a 50/50 split.
Manjushri's lips were trembling.
The Vajrabhairava Mudra is his innate mantra, not a magical treasure. Magical treasures can be taken away, imitated, or destroyed. But an innate mantra grows along with the practitioner's path, and no one but Manjushri himself can activate it.
But that mortal activated it.
Moreover, its power is exactly the same as his.
Sun Wukong stood in the distance, a blade of grass dangling from his mouth.
He didn't say anything.
But the corners of his mouth curved upwards slightly, almost imperceptibly.
Cool.
That was fucking awesome.
All the frustration, the anger from being misunderstood, and the sweat from being constantly pressured over the past six months gradually subsided at this moment.
It's not just me, Old Sun, who can't beat them.
Even Manjushri Bodhisattva, you cannot defeat him.
We can't beat them together.
Sun Wukong, with a blade of grass in his mouth, looked at Manjushri Bodhisattva, who had once been high and mighty, with a gentle tone but a lurking edge in his words. He watched as Manjushri Bodhisattva unleashed his trump card time and time again, only to be defeated by him again and again.
Watching as dust began to settle on his white robe.
I watched as one of his prayer beads broke off because he used too much force.
I watched as a bead of sweat slowly seeped from his forehead.
Watching his aura—that usually calm and composed aura—begin to become disordered.
Half an hour.
A full half hour.
Manjushri took out his Buddhist implements one by one: the Seven Treasures Tree, the Great Power Seal, the Demon-Subduing Staff, the Dragon-Subduing Pestle.
It's a 50/50 split.
At last.
Manjushri stopped.
He took three steps back.
The sword of wisdom hangs low, its tip pointing to the ground.
His chest was heaving violently.
The white robe was stained with dust and pebbles. A bead was missing from the prayer beads. Sweat streamed down his forehead and dripped to the ground.
He looked at Lu Chen.
His expression was more serious than ever before.
Before this, the way he looked at Lu Chen was, "Let me see what kind of person you are."
Now, the way he looks at Lu Chen is, "I have absolutely no idea what you are."
"Who exactly are you?"
Manjushri's voice was somewhat hoarse.
"Who exactly are you?"
Lu Chen remained seated on that rock.
—He didn't know when he had already sat back down.
A cast iron pot sat on the campfire in front of them, simmering some kind of soup.
He picked up a rough earthenware bowl, scooped up a spoonful of soup, and blew on it.
He looked at Manjushri with a smile.
no answer.
The valley fell silent.
Only the soup in the pot was bubbling away.
And Manjushri's heavy breathing.