Chapter 251 — The Word-Spirit Slays the Heart

"Grass puts out seeds. Many seeds are grain, and grain too is life. Why do you eat life? Every day you eat your vegetarian meal and chant the Buddha's name, thinking on goodness, on beauty, on truth — and never knowing how many lives you swallow in a single mouthful."

Shen Mu said, "The longer you live, the more lives you eat. By what face do you come to talk of the Buddha-heart, of a heart of goodness?"

He took a flower seed from the Taotie Pouch and cupped it in his palm, and brought the Earth-Origin Art of Creation into play. The seed put out a sprout; the sprout grew; its rootlets split the husk; in a moment a spirit-herb had grown in his hand. Tender and green, it put forth a bud; the bud trembled faintly, and a flower opened, lovely enough to drip.

"Is it beautiful?" Shen Mu asked.

The monk was a little entranced. He nodded. "Beautiful."

Shen Mu put the flower into his hands. "The seed of a flower is like grain: a beautiful living thing. How many of them have you eaten? When will you repay them? If they had spirits and cultivated into demons, would they not wail that you have eaten billions of their kindred? Do you not think of the countless wronged souls of grass and flower and tree gathered around you, waiting day and night for you to pay with your life?"

The monk held the flower in both hands, and his face grew grayer and grayer; even the flower's loveliness turned hideous in his eyes, demanding his life of him. Suddenly he sat down cross-legged and wept. "I have eaten countless of your kindred; my sin is too deep to be dissolved! I would turn myself to a handful of ashes to feed you!"

And with that, karmic fire kindled all over the monk's body and in an instant burned his mortal flesh away to nothing. And though the fire consumed him utterly, it did not scorch the flower in the least; the flower fell into the ashes, still bright and dripping.

"Dust to dust, earth to earth. A lifetime of cultivating the Buddha comes to nothing in the end — good only for planting flowers and manuring them."

Shen Mu bent down, gathered the ashes together, and planted the flower there. "Monk, you were useless all your life, and now that you are dead you are of use after all. This flower should grow well; it will seed many seeds and bring forth more flowers, and if you know anything down in the springs, you should be comforted. Your ashes are fertilizer; the flower is not one of the common people, but it answers to that saying: no different from the daily use of the common people. Well said. You and I are of one way now."

He stood up and looked around. Though he was a youth, he had the bearing of a cult master. Easily, he said, "Which other great monk would debate the Dharma with me?"

Silence lay all around.

Shen Mu's gaze met the gaze of monk after monk, each of them grave and majestic in the Buddha's image; they hurried to look away, not daring to let their eyes meet his.

Lord Huo and the Blind Elder stood far off, chatting with the white-browed monks. The Blind Elder laughed. "If Shen'er stays at the Great Tingming Temple, and these monks do not kill him out of hand straightaway, then before many days pass half the monks of the Great Tingming Temple will return to lay life, and a good part of the rest will be driven mad by cultivation deviation; and those who are not driven mad are false monks. He is truly more formidable than Granny Zhu."

Suddenly a monk cried in a sharp voice, "He is a demon! A heavenly demon! His monstrous words beguile the multitude!"

Another monk shouted, "He killed Senior Brother Xinkong with monstrous words! This demon chief must not live! Kill him and rid us of the demon!"

In a moment the crowd was seething, all crying out to kill Shen Mu, subdue the demon, and destroy the devil.

Shen Mu laughed aloud — a great laugh, louder and louder, until the cries for his death around him died away one by one, and only Shen Mu's laughter went on.

The laughter sank little by little. Bleakly, Shen Mu said, "You wanted to debate the Dharma, and I debated the Dharma with you. While I debated the Dharma, you dragged in doctrine; very well, we spoke of doctrine, and when you could not out-talk me on doctrine, you turned to the taking of life; very well, we spoke of the taking of life. The taking of life you could not out-talk me on either, and now you mean to kill me. What Buddha are you cultivating? Withdraw. Go back to lay life."

Some monks stood lost, hollow in their hearts; after a while one sighed and turned away in earnest, packed his bundle, and went down the mountain.

The rest did not withdraw. Their faces were dark.

Shen Mu shook his head and smiled. "In the end it comes to a fight anyway. Had you known that from the start, why waste your breath?"

His spirit blazed up; he swept the circle of them with a look like lightning. "Who comes to die?"