Chapter 937: Chasing Buddha

Golden specks of light swirled around his fingertips, like golden butterflies fluttering and then soaring into the sky.

Ye Fan paused. The relic, the size of a baby’s fist, began to shrink, transforming into a shower of light that diffused in all directions. The scene was magnificent, sacred, solemn, and serene.

He first thought of "Dao transformation," but then dismissed the idea. The ancient Buddha had already completely passed away in the Western Desert.

“Could it be… is reincarnation truly real?” Ye Fan instantly became agitated, his heart pounding, and he abruptly stood up.

For the past few days, he had been in a daze, his mind muddled, wandering aimlessly, almost oblivious to his surroundings. His thoughts were consumed by images of his parents, and he was immersed in grief, unable to extricate himself.

Reincarnation, resurrection… these concepts constantly lingered in his mind. His thoughts of the relic and the ancient coffin, which should have been interred in the Ninth Heaven, were also driven by this.

Buddhism emphasizes continuous rebirth, including the concept of reincarnation. The nine-layered coffin from the mythical era, used to inter deities, was also a product of eternal life.

In his dazed state over the past few days, Ye Fan had unconsciously taken out these two items, hoping to find a way to achieve immortality or reincarnation, solely for the purpose of seeing his parents again. This subconscious action, however, jolted him awake. Otherwise, he would have continued to wander in a stupor for who knew how many more days.

The ancient coffin, buried in the Ninth Heaven, remained unchanged, still rustic and unembellished. However, the relic gradually dissolved, like a melting snowball.

Ye Fan’s essence, energy, and spirit surged to their peak. He stared unblinkingly, a cluster of divine flames flickering at his brow, making him appear like a deity! He concentrated, using his mind to sense the relic, observing its transformation. Even though he didn't truly believe in reincarnation, he still harbored a hope for a miracle. His eyes were deep and unwavering:

The relic appeared to be undergoing a Dao transformation, continuously transforming into light, forming golden ripples that spread outwards. The colors were beautiful, as if demonstrating an immortal art, with golden specks of light merging into a single expanse.

“Wow, Uncle, are you doing magic?” A young boy from the park ran over, his eyes wide, as he gazed at the relic in Ye Fan's hand, now dissolving into specks of light.

“It's so beautiful! Uncle, can you teach me how you do that? It's so magical and pretty.” The little boy, completely uninhibited, pleaded with Ye Fan to teach him.

“This is much more impressive than those ‘miracle-witnessing’ acts on the Spring Festival Gala every year; we're tired of seeing those.” A few young people nearby also commented, drawing closer to observe.

“Say, why is your forehead glowing too? Is that phosphorus? Does it burn?” One young man, quite curious, reached out to touch the cluster of divine flames at Ye Fan’s brow.

“Ouch, that stung!” Even before his hand made contact, a piercing pain, like needles, made him quickly retract it from a distance. He exclaimed, “Brother, you really have some willpower! Doesn't that hurt? Ah, nothing comes easy, does it?”

Ye Fan ignored them, unconcerned with the sensation he was causing. He kept his gaze fixed on the light emanating from the relic, watching the specks continuously fly westward. He stood up and pursued them.

His speed was astonishing; he vanished like a gust of wind, startling the cute little child who plopped down onto the ground, and leaving the young men and women wide-eyed in disbelief.

The relic glowed, its light coalescing into streams that flowed mysteriously toward the setting sun. Ye Fan, moving like wind and lightning, left the city in an instant.

These specks of light, like golden butterflies, did not fly very fast. They fluttered gracefully, as if imbued with life. Ye Fan could easily keep pace with them, giving him time to observe.

“There are no spiritual fluctuations, it's not a primordial spirit, and there's no life imprint. It's just pure energy.” He frowned slightly.

Ye Fan was intensely focused, extending his divine sense and employing his cultivation to observe each speck of light, determined to understand its origin and true nature. However, he was disappointed. This phenomenon had nothing to do with reincarnation; there was no life imprint, only pure energy, nothing more.

“No wonder even the ancient Buddha himself said, ‘believe and it exists; disbelieve and it does not.’ At his level of cultivation, he must have known that death ultimately leads to nothingness.”

Ye Fan’s only lingering question was why the old monk, upon his Dao transformation, had insisted that Ye Fan bring his relic back to Earth. What was the meaning behind it? He had already noticed that after a certain period, some of the light specks would dim. They either dissipated entirely or merged into the mountains, rocks, and vegetation, while occasionally, some fortunate individuals absorbed a few particles of light.

“Perhaps, before his passing, he saw a second similar flower and, even knowing it wasn’t himself, wished to draw near to it.”

Disappointed, Ye Fan nonetheless continued his pursuit, wanting to see the ultimate outcome. For him, the light specks moved quite slowly, and it took several days before they reached the western region.

Ahead, the altitude steadily increased. The sky, a breathtaking sapphire blue, looked as if it had been washed clean. Occasionally, pristine white clouds drifted directly overhead, appearing so close one could reach out and touch them.

In a modern world dominated by towering buildings, finding such a pristine natural expanse was rare. The Tibetan region remained sparsely populated, with many areas still untouched by human feet.

As he neared this high-altitude region, however, the relic in Ye Fan’s hand was almost entirely consumed. The very last speck of light flew out, and then it vanished completely.

Ye Fan watched the final shower of light. He saw that they didn't fly much further, eventually settling into the mountains and rocks, merging with the vegetation, and dissolving into nothingness.

He let out a long sigh. Although he knew that reincarnation was ultimately futile and impossible, he couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness and disappointment, which extinguished the last glimmer of hope in his heart.

The ancient sage of the Western Desert had completely vanished from the world. If even the Buddha was subject to this fate, how much more so ordinary mortals, who ultimately left no lasting trace.

Ye Fan knew he could never see his parents again; they were truly separated by life and death. The thought left him deeply saddened and overwhelmed.

He stood motionless, almost petrified. What now? His heart was in turmoil; he had lost his direction and felt that everything he did was meaningless.

After an unknown period, Ye Fan suddenly looked up. He sensed a faint fluctuation emanating from deep within the Tibetan region, where a mysterious aura seemed to flow.

“This is…“ A sharp glint appeared in his eyes as he gazed down at the land before him.

This feeling was unforgettable; he had experienced it before in the Western Desert. This mysterious fluctuation was almost identical to that of Mount Meru. Ye Fan transformed into a streak of light and surged rapidly forward.

He ventured deep into the plateau's uninhabited zone, and at that moment, felt a vast fluctuation, as if an immense ocean had breached its dam, surging outwards in all directions.

Ye Fan was greatly astonished; this uninhabited area was incredibly mysterious. The fluctuation was nearly as strong as what he had experienced in the Western Desert, and he almost mistook it for another distant glimpse of Mount Meru.

However, what came swiftly also departed swiftly. The mysterious fluctuation, like a flood abruptly halted by a sluice gate, instantly lost its momentum and completely vanished, becoming undetectable.

“Where did it originate?”

Ye Fan’s powerful divine sense stretched out, sweeping across the mountains and the earth, yet he could detect nothing. It was a very peculiar experience.

Historically, the Tibetan region had always been mysterious, rife with inexplicable occurrences. Ye Fan pursued the phenomenon to this place but found nothing, leaving him unsettled and full of doubt.

“The Tibetan region truly holds many unsolved mysteries. Even the birthplace of Shakyamuni no longer practices Buddhism, yet this area has become a pure land. Does it conceal something?”

Ye Fan stood atop a majestic mountain, gazing down at the boundless and mysterious ancient land. Not only was Buddhism deeply rooted here, but the Kunlun Mountains, the most enigmatic range in ancient China, also stretched across this very place.

He continued his journey, passing through many places and traversing vast uninhabited zones alone. Finally, he arrived at a natural barrier between Tibet and the Tarim Basin: a section of the Kunlun Mountains.

Kunlun, the Mountain of Ten Thousand Ancestors and China's foremost sacred mountain, was the origin of figures like the Queen Mother of the West and ancient immortals. It held an unparalleled, most revered status in ancient Chinese history.

However, after traversing a section of the range, Ye Fan found it utterly unremarkable, devoid of any special features. He did not venture deep into Xinjiang or the Qinghai section, instead returning to the Tibetan region.

He hadn't come seeking the secrets of Kunlun; his journey was merely an extension of his pursuit of the Buddha. He had no other thoughts, only profound sadness in his heart, leaving him with no mind for anything else.

Ye Fan arrived in Lhasa. Despite his disbelief in the coming of a Buddha, he felt compelled to try, as the immense fluctuation he had recently sensed was too significant to ignore.

He entered the Potala Palace. Built into the side of a mountain, its majestic presence had made it the preeminent sacred site of Tibetan Buddhism since ancient times, holding an extraordinary status.

Ye Fan entered many halls, all significant areas not open to the public, but he was disappointed. He did not sense that aura; he found nothing.

Afterward, he successively entered the Jokhang Temple and Ramoche Temple. In these two sacred temples, he still found nothing; there was only a faint trace of pure spiritual power, but it couldn't possibly compare to the immense sensation he had felt earlier. One must understand, that vastness had been awe-inspiring, truly almost comparable to Mount Meru, like an immeasurable ocean surging.

Soon after, he successively visited Sekye Monastery, Yerpa Monastery, Dratsang Monastery, Samye Monastery, and other prominent ancient temples and sacred shrines, but he still found nothing.

Ye Fan observed that even in the present day, people were practicing Buddhism with genuine devotion, not merely lighting incense, bowing, or seeking peace. However, to his disappointment, he didn't encounter a single true cultivator. Perhaps some undiscovered ancient temples housed them, but he lacked the inclination to search.

As Ye Fan traversed the vast uninhabited regions, he wore a curious expression because he occasionally encountered devout Tibetan people who were incredibly excited, proclaiming that the Buddha was about to descend.

He was very puzzled and inquired diligently. Some claimed that the Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss had opened, and they had sensed the Buddha’s power. Others asserted that a Buddha was reviving in the Saha World. Still others spoke of the Buddhist gate opening, revealing the Dharma to the world.

Ye Fan shook his head and turned to leave. Although he still felt profound sadness and a heavy heart, he had begun to emerge from his internal world of grief. He knew there were still matters awaiting his attention.

He traversed vast uninhabited areas, coming across several dilapidated ancient temples that had long since become ruins. Unexpectedly, he felt powerful fluctuations in these very places.

“Something isn’t right!”

Ye Fan suddenly realized that when he was lost in mortal sadness, he had been oblivious, but now, as he regained some clarity and earnestly began to sense, he felt something extraordinary about this land that almost suffocated him—something directed specifically at cultivators!

He couldn't help but gaze up at the sky, muttering to himself, “Is it Spirit Mountain, or Kunlun Mountain? I must investigate this thoroughly in the future.”

Yet, the thought that even after cultivating to such a profound state, he couldn't protect his parents, left him disheartened once more. What use was it, he wondered, even if he could discover secret lands?

The path to immortality is arduous; whether one is severing the Dao or attaining it, too much must be sacrificed. Yet, if in the end one cannot even protect one's loved ones, then the entire endeavor feels truly meaningless.

Ye Fan started his journey back, nearing the edge of the Tibetan region. As he passed a stone mountain, he spotted another ruined ancient temple and suddenly felt as if something was watching him.

He turned and walked toward the ancient temple ruins, his gaze fixed on a stone Buddha. He approached it step by step, finding it somewhat incredible that in this age of Dharma decline, he had encountered a being with such “Dao cultivation.”

“Whoosh!”

From behind the stone Buddha, a streak of purple light shot up and disappeared into the stone mountain.

Ye Fan looked up and, with a single stride, ascended the hundred-meter-high stone mountain. He stared at a bowl-sized stone cave, where a palm-sized stone Buddha sat, half-blocking the entrance.