The Origin of Zen Forest Temple

In the heavy snow, within the grand hall of the Zen Forest Temple.

The Buddha statue in the hall still looked somewhat worn, the golden palm of the Buddha already peeling. But in the depths of winter, the monks of the Zen Forest Temple could barely afford food, let alone care about the Buddha losing a layer of paint.

Five-year-old Yuan Kong sat on a cushion beneath the statue, sniffling as he flipped through a Buddhist scripture.

He had been reading this scripture for half a year now. With his clever little mind, he could already recite it backward and forward.

Yet, his senior brother, the abbot, still squatted beside him every day, reciting endlessly. Yuan Kong truly couldn’t understand what the abbot was thinking.

He sniffled a couple more times, but his tiny nose couldn’t handle it anymore. After cautiously glancing at the abbot, who seemed half-asleep beside him, Yuan Kong decisively wiped his snot on the sleeve of his robe. After all, it wasn’t him who had to wash the clothes.

Just as Yuan Kong finished wiping his nose, the abbot’s voice drifted out softly:

“You’ll wash your own clothes today.”

Yuan Kong felt betrayed and pouted, “Senior Brother! You weren’t asleep?”

“There’s no need to sleep long in life; you’ll have eternity to rest after death,” Yuan Jing opened his eyes, his aged face breaking into a kind smile. “Little one, if you’ve done nothing wrong, why worry about whether I’m asleep or not?”

“Senior Brother, you have your cultivation to protect you from the cold and heat,” Yuan Kong complained. “But you won’t let me cultivate. In this freezing winter, I barely have any clothes to wear. I’m colder than a stray dog.”

At this topic, Yuan Jing suddenly seemed to go deaf, quickly reaching for the wooden fish beside him and tapping it lightly.

Yuan Kong knew better than to argue with his stubborn senior brother. When Yuan Jing decided to be shameless, he was truly shameless.

Every time Yuan Kong asked, he either got no response, like now, or was told the time wasn’t right. In short, Yuan Jing refused to teach him anything.

So Yuan Kong didn’t dwell on it. He picked up the thick scripture, placed it on the altar, and walked step by step out of the hall.

Yuan Jing listened to the sound of the wooden fish and the fading footsteps of Yuan Kong.

When Yuan Kong’s footsteps could no longer be heard, he stopped tapping the wooden fish.

Yuan Jing opened his eyes and looked at the scripture on the altar.

In truth, the scripture Yuan Kong had been reading for over half a year was the highest Buddhist scripture of the Zen Forest Temple—a scripture from the Central Continent.

Yuan Kong was undoubtedly a Buddha’s chosen one. Whether it was Buddhist teachings or principles, he grasped them instantly, and he was naturally brilliant.

Even now, Yuan Jing wasn’t sure he could win a debate against Yuan Kong.

Most importantly, envoys from the Central Continent had confirmed it—Yuan Kong was a natural Buddha’s chosen one.

Such a chosen one would usually be highly treasured, with major Buddhist sects vying for him. Yet, Yuan Kong remained at the Zen Forest Temple and wasn’t taken to the great temples of the Central Continent.

The reason was simple.

Yuan Kong was a natural Buddha’s chosen one, but he couldn’t cultivate any spiritual techniques.

In fact, Yuan Kong’s very being rejected any energy that wasn’t his own, whether it was Buddhist or immortal.

No Central Continent temple wanted a Buddha’s chosen one who could only debate scriptures.

Thinking of this, Yuan Jing almost wanted to laugh. It was as if their practice of Buddhism had gone completely off track.

What were they cultivating? The heart of Buddhism, or just the methods?

But it didn’t matter. Staying here was better than going there and being mistreated.

If they didn’t treasure Yuan Kong, he would.

The scripture of the Buddha’s heart—Yuan Kong had read it for half a year with no reaction. It seemed the Central Continent’s judgment was correct.

Yuan Jing reached out and touched the scripture, his expression a mix of amusement and resignation. Finally, he put the scripture away.

After all, the Buddha said that even ordinary people could achieve enlightenment and transformation.

No need to force it, no need to force it.

Yuan Jing looked out at the heavy snowfall. The little one might be disappointed, though.

Lowering his head, Yuan Jing turned back and resumed tapping the wooden fish.

The empty hall was now filled only with the crisp sound of the wooden fish.

Yuan Jing didn’t know how long he had been tapping when he suddenly heard hurried footsteps and the urgent voice of a temple monk:

“Abbot! Grandmaster Yuan Kong fainted while washing clothes! You must come quickly!”

Yuan Jing calmly placed the wooden fish mallet aside.

This kid was getting more and more outrageous! Just because he caught him once, now he’s pretending to be sick to make trouble!

This time, he’d have to give him a good spanking!

Yuan Jing said calmly, “Don’t panic. Lead me to him.”

The abbot’s composed demeanor calmed the anxious monk.

“Please follow me.”

The monk led the abbot to a side room in the temple.

Inside the room, two or three monks were using warm towels to wipe Yuan Kong’s body.

When Yuan Jing saw this, his heart sank. He hurried forward and grasped Yuan Kong’s hand.

The moment he touched it, he felt the hand was icy cold, as if it had lost all warmth.

Yuan Jing looked at the monks beside him, his expression one of disbelief:

“How… how did this happen?”

One of the monks looked at the abbot with a strange expression and whispered:

“I saw Grandmaster Yuan Kong washing clothes. I wanted to help him, but he said you punished him to wash them, and then…”

Yuan Jing: “…”

Well, there was no use blaming anyone now.

Because any force that entered Yuan Kong's body would automatically dissipate, Yuan Jing could only use the most basic method of pulse diagnosis to assess Yuan Kong's condition at this moment.

However, after checking the pulse for a long time, Yuan Jing could only conclude that the unconscious and ice-cold Yuan Kong lying before him was in perfect health...

This...

If he weren't a monk bound by precepts, Yuan Jing would have surely let out a few choice curses.

Yuan Jing's expression remained calm, and after a while, he spoke:

"You take care of him for now. I'll go and call for help."

The monks in the side hall quickly responded, "Yes."

Yuan Jing stood up and hurried to the main hall. He stepped onto the altar, retrieved a golden relic from beside the Buddha's right ear, and without hesitation, crushed it.

The shattered relic instantly turned into light and dissipated. Yuan Jing silently recited "Amitabha" before swiftly returning to the side hall.

Pushing open the door to the side hall, Yuan Jing spoke softly to the monks inside:

"All of you, leave now. No matter what happens, do not come back in."

"Abbot..."

"Go."

The monks exchanged glances but ultimately had no choice but to retreat.

Once all the monks had left, Yuan Jing closed the door and walked over to Yuan Kong. He picked up the warm water and the coarse cloth placed nearby and began personally wiping Yuan Kong's body.

About half an hour later, a solemn voice suddenly echoed in the room.

"You should know when that relic is meant to be used."

Yuan Jing turned to look.

There stood a middle-aged, muscular bald man, half-cloaked in a kasaya despite the winter cold, with a dark golden flame emblem between his eyebrows.

Yuan Jing's expression remained indifferent, unbothered by the fact that the Arhat before him was at the Nascent Soul level:

"I understand, but it seems the Arhat does not."

The Arhat was not angered by this remark. "Whether I understand or not is a matter for the Doctrine Hall. Did you summon me for him?"

Yuan Jing nodded. "I beg the Arhat's assistance."

The Arhat came quickly and left just as swiftly.

Now, the room was silent, with only the wordless Yuan Jing and the unconscious Yuan Kong remaining.