Chapter 956 - 680: Great Snow Temple

Vast snowfields, ten thousand miles of ice.

Heaven and earth are pure white, the cold wind sweeps through the mountains, even time seems to be frozen and slow.

Deep within the mountains, the Great Snow Temple stands silently amid the wind and snow.

Red walls covered in snow, dark tiles encrusted with frost, the ancient temple, adorned in no luxurious ornament, suppresses the desolate chilliness of the entire snowfield with a tranquil and solemn aura, adding a touch of purity to this vast, cold land.

At the end of the snowy ancient path, a figure treads through the snow.

Barefoot monk, chest bared, loose cloth, a simple bamboo basket on his shoulder.

His strides are leisurely, leaving one footprint at a time, snow settling underfoot, untouched by the cold wind, and not even the slightest bit of frost taints his clothes, his aura akin to a wild crane in the clouds, unbound and carefree.

Along the way, monks from afar bow and join their palms in quiet salutation:

"Master Wuxiang."

Wuxiang only smiles slightly, neither proud nor hasty, and silently passes through the courtyard, arriving before the Great Hall, where he raises a hand to push open the heavy hall door.

The warm Buddhist atmosphere inside rushes outward, instantly expelling the piercing cold from outside.

Wuxiang gathers his easygoing air, stands upright, and bows deeply to the old monk on the lotus platform:

"Disciple Wuxiang, pays respect to Master Miao Shan."

The old monk on the seat, draped in a brocade cassock, has a clear and thin face, white brows dusted with snow, hair and beard also as if frosted, surrounded by a faint flowing light of Buddhist aura, serene and transcendent in demeanor.

He glances over Wuxiang’s bare form, his brows slightly furrowed, his voice solemn with a hint of rebuke:

"We, cultivators of the path, are in a pure place. To be so exposed and disheveled, what decorum is this?"

Wuxiang scratches his head, offering a sheepish smile, a hint of helplessness in his heart.

By nature, he is carefree, detesting rigid rules, yet before this elder, he dares not slight him in the least.

Master Miao Shan, currently the leader of the Great Snow Temple, is the only great virtuous monk in the temple’s eight-thousand-year history to attain the Arhat Fruit.

Moreover, undefeated in debates, elevating the Great Snow Temple to be among the renowned temples of Spirit Mountain, becoming one of the root temples.

Wuxiang immediately discards his frivolous demeanor, adopting a serious expression:

"Uncle Master, this disciple has returned this time because of an unusual event that requires your personal judgement."

He slowly removes the bamboo basket from his shoulder, gently opening the lid, revealing a gentle red glow slowly emanating from within.

It’s an enormous red-scaled serpent, quietly coiling outward, its scales as fine as red glazed jade, with a restrained and warm sheen.

Wuxiang narrates the battle at the heart of the lake.

The spiritual turtle, bearing the bloodline of a flood dragon, ranks among the spirit beasts, yet actively provoked by this serpent.

The red serpent, employing cunning and deceitful methods, slaughtered the spirit turtle, swallowed the entire beast, and sank to the lakebed for transformation, with surging blood Qi manifesting strange phenomena...

At this point, Wuxiang speaks with a cautious tone:

"Disciple observed its refined and pure blood Qi, housing a substantial secret force in its physical body, resembling the physical refinement techniques of the Buddhist Arhat."

"Disciple speculates, it might be a reincarnation of an Arhat, but something went awry during the cycle of reincarnation, leading it to mistakenly enter a demon body."

Miao Shan lowers his gaze, studying the red serpent, his eyes slightly narrowing.

Having attained the Arhat position, his vision is extraordinary, immediately discerning the anomaly:

The serpent’s physical foundation resembles the Buddhist secret force, yet differs entirely, lacking any meditative charm or Dao rhyme.

He simply calculates with his fingers, pondering internally:

"Reincarnation refines, old ties reset, all bonds are severed, it is an immaculate new body..."

"Born not long ago, Wuxiang is the first cultivator it has come into contact with, its origins pure and untainted..."

"After breaking free of the beast’s path and awakening spiritually, every move subtly aligns with the principles of cultivation, it must be a reincarnation of a fellow Daoist..."

"But why is there no one to guide it? Could it be a Loose Cultivator fallen from grace?"

Having reached a conclusion, Miao Shan slowly raises a hand, continuing to wield the Buddhist calculation seal, closing his eyes to probe into its past causality and origin.

Yet in an instant, the threads of causality veil in chaos as if falling into a deep fog, even with the blessing of his Arhat Dao Fruit, unable to discern through it.

After a long while, Miao Shan opens his eyes and retracts his hand, lightly shaking his head, his expression becoming calm.

The path of cultivation, its inability to penetrate does not forebode ill.

It precisely indicates this serpent’s past has no former ties with Great Snow Temple or the Buddhist Sect.

He inwardly sighs:

"If the World Honored One were still present, we disciples and followers might be able to decipher its fundamental mystery..."

"As it stands, one can only determine that it holds no old grievances with our sect."

"However, that’s enough, when the time is ripe, our Great Snow Temple could gain another Arhat to guard the gate."

His gaze falls again on the red serpent prostrating in the hall, Miao Shan finally speaks, decision made:

"Enough, meeting is fated."

"For now, keep it at the temple for guidance, lead it back to the right path, and let it cultivate with a calm heart."

...

Several months passed leisurely and swiftly.

The Great Snow Temple remained as always with morning bells and evening drums, untouched by wind and snow, with time serene and peaceful.

On this day, in the grand hall.

Miao Shan Arhat sat on the lotus platform, opening a session on Zen for the monks of the temple, analyzing the Dharma principles, enlightening the monks on the obstacles in their cultivation.

"Thus have I heard..."

All the monks in the hall stood solemnly and listened in silence, their hearts and minds clear, no one making a noise.

In a corner of the hall, a large red snake lay quietly coiled, its head lowered and eyes closed, its scales gentle, showing no trace of demonic beast’s wild nature.

Its posture was upright, quietly listening to the wondrous principles of the Buddhist sounds, devout and solemn, even more so than many ordinary monks.

Miao Shan swept his gaze over the red snake, a gentle acknowledgment rising in his eyes, and he softly sighed:

"Virtuous indeed, virtuous indeed."

In his heart, he silently pondered.

Among the younger generation in the temple, in terms of natural abilities and aptitude, the highest would be Wuxiang.

Yet, this junior nephew’s nature is casual and unrestrained, acting with spontaneity and lack of composure, always missing the steadiness and awe befitting a sect leader.

At this thought, Miao Shan’s gaze faintly swept to one side of the hall.

Only to see Wuxiang as always—barefoot, chest exposed, leaning slantwise against the hall column, his figure relaxed, his eyes wandering, lacking the composure and seriousness a cultivator should have.

Miao Shan sighed softly in his heart.

"Alas, a Buddha is inherently formless, ultimately I am fixated on appearances."

"However, with Wuxiang’s temperament, indeed he is not suitable to be a lineage leader."

"Perhaps..."

His gaze quietly returned to the red snake attentively listening to the Dharma.

Though born in a demon body, yet its nature is calm, observant and composed, with the heritage of a past life, regarding the probability of achieving Dao, should surpass Wuxiang.

...

Elsewhere.

Chen Sheng was in quite a good mood at this moment.

He was reborn as a young snake, originally intending to lay low, honing his physical body slowly through the martial arts technique, and developing steadily.

Then, with the help of his main body, he planned to open spiritual apertures and embark on the path of cultivation.

"However, this time, I must create a Technique that no one above the Golden Position has had."

"Although creating a Taiyin spiritual aperture is not easy, it is less likely to encounter pitfalls."

This was a lesson learned from past mistakes!!

Then, Chen Sheng did not expect his plan to prematurely collapse.

In the barren countryside where spiritual mechanisms were sparse, he unexpectedly encountered a Dao Foundation Cultivator who had the leisure to observe wild beasts fighting and was directly brought to a ’Purple Mansion True Master.’

At that time, he was resigned, already prepared for another death and reincarnation.

But the outcome was entirely beyond his expectations.

This Purple Mansion True Master, also known as the Arhat, not only did not kill him, but rather kept him, and brought him into the temple.

Chen Sheng secretly let out a sigh of relief, realizing something, and thought to himself:

"After the purifying experience of reincarnation in this realm’s Netherworld, I am finally no longer a ’ghost entity’ in the world."

"Now, it’s good, being able to join an orthodox Dao tradition, having protection, having resources..."

...

In the hall, the Buddhist chants lingered, the voice of the Dharma resonating, cleansing the mind and soul.

Before long, as a session on Zen teachings concluded, the monks all respectfully gathered themselves and waited silently for the master’s instructions.

Miao Shan raised his hand, gesturing for everyone to rise, his gaze finally settling on the large red snake, his voice warm yet with a touch of solemnity:

"You have been reborn anew, hearing the orthodox teachings of my Buddhist Sect, you have a deep affinity with my Zen school."

"From today, you shall enter under my guidance, and I bestow upon you the Dharma name—Wuchen."

The red snake coiled on the ground submissively lowered its head slightly, its snake head gently nodding on the ground, making a gesture of obeisance.

The monks in the hall witnessing this, were all surprised.

The Great Snow Temple, standing on the mountain for many years, always recruited disciples from the world, never having such a precedent.

Yet no one dared to question, for Miao Shan Arhat, as the supreme of the lineage, his words and deeds were all Decrees.

Leaning against the hall column, Wuxiang’s eyes flickered with a hint of a smile, nodded quietly.

He, at first sight, had noticed the snake’s extraordinariness, and now his senior uncle had taken it in and bestowed a Dharma name, also aligned with his intentions.