Unlike great sects such as the Hanging Temple, East King Valley, and Sea-Fishing Tower, which operated almost as independent nations and dealt with surrounding countries as equals, the Withering-Flourishing Monastery had been established on the territory of the State of Qi from the very beginning.
Ever since Emperor Wu of Qi restored the kingdom and subdued the realm, the Withering-Flourishing Monastery, like all other sects within the State of Qi, had been subject to the Qi court's authority and obeyed its decrees.
But the difference lay in the fact that the Withering-Flourishing Monastery's strength far exceeded that of other sects.
Within the State of Qi, there had even been a trend toward the Buddhist sect's dominance.
The Withering-Flourishing Monastery's influence was deeply entrenched, reaching into every level of society.
Jiang Wuliang, the Crown Prince of the State of Qi, was devoted to Buddhism. Beyond faith, this devotion was also rooted in his reliance on the Withering-Flourishing Monastery's power.
And Emperor Wu of Qi's deep hatred for Jiang Wuliang's devotion to Buddhism—was it truly merely dissatisfaction with the Shakyamuni? Was it not also wariness of this formidable force?
The reason why, even after the Qi-Xia War had settled and Jiang Wuliang's political stance had been proven wrong, the Crown Prince's position could still be delayed for five years before Emperor Wu finally deposed him—
This was certainly not because Emperor Wu was softhearted, but because Jiang Wuliang genuinely possessed power capable of rivaling the Emperor for a time!
The entire network of the Withering-Flourishing Monastery was, in reality, at Jiang Wuliang's disposal.
The political debate between the pro-peace and pro-war factions was, in truth, a struggle for power behind the scenes. Some even saw it as Jiang Wuliang's first direct challenge to imperial authority!
And the result...
Was Jiang Wuliang's deposition and the Withering-Flourishing Monastery's complete destruction. All core scriptures were burned, core monks were executed to the last, and ordinary monks were forcibly laicized.
An entire Buddhist sect vanished like smoke.
The ruins of the Withering-Flourishing Monastery in the western district of Linzi had once been a place of flourishing incense, but later became nothing but broken walls and rubble.
Perhaps out of some taboo, or perhaps because it felt ominous, no one in the vast city of Linzi had set their sights on this land over the years. It was simply left to decay.
Twenty-five years had passed, and how many storms had swept through.
Linzi had no curfew, and there were countless places where one could drink until dawn.
But the area near the Withering-Flourishing Monastery's ruins was, after all, quiet.
Many people dared not come here during the day, let alone at night.
Folklore held that the chanting of monks could often be heard at night—said to be the lingering resentment of those monks who had perished in the flames, their spirits transformed into vengeful ghosts, lingering in this place.
Someone like Jiang Chen, a cultivator, naturally did not believe such tales.
It was not that he disbelieved in resentful spirits or vengeful souls, but rather that he did not believe any such entity could openly exist right under the Qi court's watch.
No matter how many spirits there were, they would be dispersed. A hundred-year-old resentful ghost, a thousand-year-old vengeful soul—none of them would amount to anything.
While alive, they had been leveled by a single decree from Emperor Wu. Even if, after death, every soul persisted and every one of them turned to the divine path, for Emperor Wu, it would be nothing more than issuing another edict.
The Withering-Flourishing Monastery's main temple in Linzi did not occupy a vast area—it was not much different from an ordinary Buddhist temple.
Its strength had been built, to a large extent, on the branch temples that had once spread across nearly the entire State of Qi. Of course, nowadays, most of those sites no longer even had ruins to speak of.
Jiang Chen, Chongxuan Sheng, and Fourteen arrived under the cover of night. They found the moonlight pale and the surroundings silent.
Legend had it that outside the Withering-Flourishing Monastery there had once stood a golden great Buddha dozens of zhang tall, erected upon an original mountain. Later, that mountain had been torn apart on the Emperor's orders, and the golden Buddha had been melted down and added to the national treasury.
Now, not many people even remembered the name of that mountain.
But the stagnant pool of water outside the monastery grounds served as clear evidence that both the Buddha and the mountain had once existed there—it had originally been merely a deep pit, filled with accumulated rainwater. With no living source, the water remained still, and aside from a few water insects, no other creatures inhabited it.
Dark moss and still water—an unsightly sight.
The remaining bricks and stones faintly outlined the approximate shape of the monastery gate.
Chongxuan Sheng walked over and stepped on a plaque, half-buried beneath rubble, which emitted a creaking sound.
Looking down, he could barely make out the character "古" (ancient)—the other half had likely been eroded away by wind and rain.
"This is my first time here," Chongxuan Sheng said suddenly.
"I've known about this place since I was very young. I've always wondered what it looks like now. But I never came to see it."
Fourteen was habitually silent.
Jiang Chen was also quiet, knowing that what Chongxuan Sheng likely needed right now was simply to talk.
The three stepped over broken bricks and shattered tiles, heading deeper inside. The Withering-Flourishing Monastery, burned clean by fire, had really nothing left to see.
"I didn't just become clever recently—I've been clever since I was small. But cleverness, before one possesses a certain amount of strength, is extremely fragile," Chongxuan Sheng said. "Because there are many ways to turn you into a fool without leaving a trace."
"Jiang Chen, Fourteen," he said. "I feel very lonely."
The legitimate heir of the great Chongxuan family had learned to hide his abilities from a very young age. This sensitivity, vulnerability, and caution were not inborn.
If one were to judge the word "sensible" by most adult standards, then generally, the more "sensible" a child was, the less happy their childhood had been.
And all of Chongxuan Sheng's childhood misfortune had almost entirely stemmed from that man named Chongxuan Futo.
He had never dared to come to the Withering-Flourishing Monastery.
Now that he was here, even with two friends by his side, he still felt lonely.
Fourteen silently took a step closer to him. The Negative Mountain Armor on his body looked unassuming, but gave a sense of reliability.
Jiang Chen looked up at the moon—a bright yet distant source of light.
Loneliness—who among them was not?
They walked to roughly where the main hall of the Withering-Flourishing Monastery had been, and Chongxuan Sheng stopped.
"I've always wondered why he made those foolish decisions over and over again, betraying his family, his friends, his subordinates... betraying so many who trusted him, and even bringing harm to the family."
The "he" he referred to without naming directly could only be Chongxuan Futo.
The fat man looked around. The darkness did not affect his vision, but the ruins stretching in every direction did not appear to hold any clues—if there had ever been any, they should have been destroyed in that great fire twenty-five years ago. Let alone the wind and rain of the intervening quarter century.
Chongxuan Sheng asked, "Will there be answers here?"
Having recently gained some advantage in the struggle for the position of family head, he now showed a rare moment of bewilderment.
Twenty-five years... or even longer—how could one find answers?
The two who had once become friends here—one had long since dissipated into nothing, and the other was confined within Greenstone Palace, unseen by the sky for ages. As for the Withering-Flourishing Monastery itself, apart from devastation as far as the eye could see, nothing remained.
To find answers, it seemed the only path was to ask the person inside Greenstone Palace. But Greenstone Palace was inaccessible, and so...
Jiang Chen only now realized something. When Chongxuan Sheng had sent Xu Fang to Greenstone Palace to apologize, besides destroying the Treasure Assembly Guild and striking at Jiang Wuliang, there may well have been the intention of forcing Jiang Wuliang out of Greenstone Palace.
But Jiang Wuliang had maintained his silence from beginning to end.
The deposed Crown Prince appeared to have completely given up on life...
"Do you have an answer?" Jiang Chen asked.
Chongxuan Sheng was about to speak.
"Wait." Jiang Chen cut him off, his ears twitching slightly. "Did you hear something?"
Chongxuan Sheng focused for a moment. He knew Jiang Chen was not the kind of person to joke at a time like this, and his expression turned serious: "I didn't hear anything."
Fourteen also slowly shook his head, even reaching back to unsheathe the black heavy sword strapped to his back.
Jiang Chen was certain that he had indeed heard something just now, but the sound was too faint to make out clearly.
It was absolutely not an auditory hallucination.
At his current level of cultivation, his control over his body was precise and refined—there was no possibility of mishearing or hallucinating.
Why could only he hear it?
What was that sound?
Jiang Chen stood still with his hand on his sword, calming his mind and surrendering his hearing to the silence of the night.
Then he heard the sound gradually become clear—
"Namo, Ami...taba!"