I rely on talking to brush the copy

Le Jing's fortune-telling business in Antique Street did not go smoothly at the beginning.

This is also normal.

For example, Mei Jingliang has to turn into a blind old man with a white beard to do business. Le Jing is just a child now, at most ** years old in terms of appearance. Of course, no one would ask a child to tell fortunes.

Even if Le Jing hung up a white flag at the fortune-telling stall and wrote "Everything is missing in the fortune-telling stall, you will be compensated ten for every false fortune", not many people would believe him.

He sat bored for a while, feeling that waiting like this was not an option. Just as he was about to solicit customers, his vision suddenly went dark.

Amidst the harsh barking of dogs, the boy lay on the ground, breathing slowly, and seemed to have fallen into a deep sleep.

…

Le Jing suddenly had a dream.

In the dream, there were iron horses and glaciers, mountains of corpses and seas of blood, and alien armies burning, killing and looting, just like the devils in hell passing through the world in mighty force.

This is an unmitigated hell on earth.

This is also the final scene of the dynasty that a fool once saw.

Le Jing stared at the one-sided bloody massacre, and a childish and timid voice suddenly sounded in his ears: "Save, save people."

Le Jing was silent for a moment, having understood everything, he sighed and asked, "Is this your wish?"

"Save people, don't die." The young voice became much firmer.

Then Le Jing smiled.

"As you wish."

"...Thank you." The voice was as weak as the breeze blowing on the face, and disappeared in an instant.

Le Jing chuckled lightly, his eyes showing a hint of sarcasm.

The world thinks you are a fool.

The world kisses you with pain, but you respond with songs.

In the end, there is only one fool, even if only his soul is left, he still wants to save the country.

In Le Jing's view, fools are the real saints.

He will fulfill the fool's wish, not because he is moved by the fool, but because he wants to do so.

War is a meat grinder that will only crush interesting souls and destroy human civilization, architecture, art and all other beautiful things. He hates war. It is an atrocity against humanity and the ugliest hell in the world.

As long as it's ugly, he will definitely object.

So at some point in the future, he will do whatever it takes to stop this unjust war.

For a brave new world.

Le Jing opened his eyes and met a pair of dark, anxious eyes. Only then did he realize that the stray dog ​​had a pair of wolf-like dark yellow eyes.

Seeing Le Jing wake up, he immediately excitedly licked his face with his tongue.

Le Jing smiled and dodged, "Don't lick it. Don't lick it. I'm making you worry. I'm fine."

He stood up from the ground, dusted himself off, and stretched.

"Kid, are you telling fortunes?" A young man stood in front of his divination stall, his eyes questioning.

Le Jing immediately showed an innocent smile, "Yes, big brother, do you want to come and tell your fortune? If it doesn't work, I can pay for it."

…

Beihuang City is located in the far north, covered with heavy snow all year round. Deep in the vast snowfield, there is a bright yellow temple. On the black plaque are outlined three characters: "Pure Land Sect".

The peaceful Buddhist sounds came out of the temple and blended into the howling wind and snow. It seemed that even the north wind was gentle and could not bear to be too harsh on the snowy field.

There is a sacred solemnity in the Buddhist hall of the Pure Land Sect.

A dozen young monks sat cross-legged in three neat rows, listening intently to the Buddhist sounds in the room. From time to time, some people showed expressions of sudden enlightenment and looked up with even more reverence.

Sitting at the top was an old monk with white eyebrows and beard. He was sitting cross-legged on the futon and explaining Buddhism word by word to the young disciples. As he explained, golden lights, white lotuses and other visions flashed behind him from time to time. He sat leisurely, with a serene look on his face, like a god and Buddha reappearing, which earned the following disciples even more admiring looks.

Just as the disciples were eagerly absorbing the elder's Buddhist teachings, the melodious and sacred sound of the Buddha's trumpet suddenly stopped.

There was a sudden silence in the Buddhist hall.

The disciples looked over in surprise and saw the old monk above quietly closing his eyes, saying nothing, and seemed to be asleep.

This was something that was impossible to happen, but it did happen.

The old monk Huitong, the abbot of the Pure Land Sect of this generation, fell asleep while chanting sutras. Not only that, he also had a dream.

It really can't be said to be a sweet dream, it should be more appropriately described as a nightmare.

He seemed to have arrived on a battlefield.

War drums were loud, soldiers were fighting each other, swords were flashing, Sheng flags were rolling, and thousands of troops and horses collided with each other, the momentum was astonishing.

People keep falling and lives keep passing away. War is the cruelest meat grinder.

Huitong rarely dreams.

But once he dreams, it must indicate something.

Before Huitong could think about the meaning behind this dream, he suddenly discovered another existence that was incompatible with this place.

Right in front of him stood a small child.

He was wearing bright yellow monk robes, silent and with his back turned, staring at the battlefield of blood and fire.

There was an inexplicable urge that drove Huitong to get closer to the child. He wanted to see his face clearly!

As soon as Huitong took a step, the battlefield shattered like a mirror, and the boy disappeared. The bloody sun was in the sky, and the sky was filled with ferocious blood. Even the dark clouds had a few touches of blood.

It feels soft underfoot and seems to be a little warm. Of course. Because what Huitong stepped on was not the road, but a corpse. The corpses were piled together and spread out densely on the ground. There was no ground anywhere as far as the eye could see, only a mountain of corpses and a sea of ​​blood.

The bodies were old and young, male and female, and the only thing they had in common was that they died in a horrible way, obviously tragically.

Even though Hui Tong had already reached a state of harmony, he was still a little stunned by this scene.

Is this hell?

He blinked confusedly and found himself in another battlefield.

Rather than a battlefield, it was a one-sided massacre.

The soldiers raised their spears and swords and pointed them at the unarmed civilians, starting round after round of inhumane killing competitions. Hui Tong heard their excited, inhuman howls in the blood.

The wild wolves followed closely behind their fellows in human skin, hoping to pick up some "leftovers" to fill their stomachs.

This is the endless killing in the mortal world, a fate that cannot be changed like the cycle of cause and effect.

Hui Tong had long been accustomed to it.

He sighed and silently recited the Sutra of Rebirth to pray for the souls of these tragically dead.

The boy suddenly appeared beside him in this situation.

Hui Tong was caught off guard when he met the pair of glass pupils with light mist flowing.

The boy's eyes passed through Hui Tong and met the mountains of corpses and blood behind him. The glass pupils flickered, and Hui Tong seemed to hear the roar of thunder.

"I ask the Buddha, if killing one person can save the people, is it a sin or a merit?"

"I ask the Buddha, if slaughtering a city can save a country, is it thunder or instant Buddhahood?"

The boy asked softly, as if talking to himself, or questioning Hui Tong.

Hui Tong was stunned. He opened his mouth, but didn't know how to answer the boy's question.

He wanted to say that they, the monks, have already jumped out of the six reincarnations, and the six senses are pure, so why should they provoke the cause and effect of the world?

He wanted to say that there is light and darkness in this world, and if the light is not extinguished, the shadow will last forever, and evil cannot be eradicated.

He wanted to say that birth, aging, sickness and death are the fate of mortals, and they should not interfere with it as cultivators. This is against the natural order and may cause inner demons.

Before he could organize his words, the boy seemed to have found the answer: "The Buddha said that the Vajra's angry eyes subdue the four demons; the Bodhisattva lowers his eyebrows, so he is compassionate to the six paths."

The boy's eyes were clear and quiet, and he smiled lightly, just like the Buddha smiled at a flower in the past: "Thunder, rain and dew are all the compassion of my Buddha."

Hui Tong was moved.

It was not because the boy's words were so unique, but because he heard the fearless spirit and the boy's way from these words.

The boy was walking on a road that was destined to be rugged and long, and he might not see the end in his lifetime.

That road, made of corpses, blood and bones, leads to the Pure Land of Bliss.

Then the next moment, as he expected, the boy moved.

He sat cross-legged, chanting the solemn Buddha's name, his body floating in the air, white lotuses appeared under him, and a faint fragrance floated in the air. A huge golden Buddha statue appeared behind him, raising his huge palm, carrying a shocking momentum and slapping the tyrannical soldiers, one palm after another.

The boy closed his eyes and smiled, like a god sitting high on a lotus throne, and said with compassion: "My Buddha is merciful."

Hui Tong suddenly understood.

Like a thunderbolt falling into his sea of ​​consciousness, he suddenly understood the identity of the strange boy in front of him.

He also understood why he had this dream.

This is the future that is destined to happen.

It is also the guidance given to them by the Buddha.

...

Hui Tong opened his eyes, and in front of him were the anxious and worried faces of his fellow apprentices.

Junior brother Hui Jue asked with concern: "Brother, I just heard that you fell asleep while preaching. Are you feeling unwell?"

Hui Tong was in a trance for a moment, and the pair of glass pupils seemed to flash before his eyes again.

"...I had a prophetic dream."

The brothers had already guessed this in their hearts, and they were not surprised. They asked repeatedly: "Brother, what did you dream about?"

"But about the movements of the demons?"

Hui Tong shook his head, and his turbid old eyes suddenly burst into infinite light, which seemed to contain a hot tomorrow, "The Buddha's son was born."

"Buddha's son?!"

The brothers were all shocked. They never thought that Hui Tong would see such an important thing.

Since the last Buddha's son passed away, their Buddhist sect has not had a Buddha's son born for nearly a hundred years.

The Taoist sect has natural Taoist seeds, and their Buddhist sect is the Buddha's son.

The natural Taoist seeds and the Buddha's son are both the top cultivation qualifications. The former is destined to be the leader of the Taoist sect, and the latter is destined to be the leader of the Buddhist sect.

Since the entire Daxiangguo Temple was destroyed a hundred years ago, and the last Buddha's son also passed away and turned into relics, their Buddhist sect has fallen into a period of depression. The young generation is leaderless and there is a lack of successors. In time, the decline of Buddhism has become inevitable.

Now the return of the Buddha has undoubtedly made Hui Jue and his brothers overjoyed and excited.

"Brother, where is the Buddha?"

Hui Tong shook his head, "I don't know where he is, but one thing is certain..." The old monk smiled with a look of compassion and admiration: "He has chosen a long and rugged road, and will keep going."

"So, we must find him."

"Find him, protect him... support him."

Hui Tong looked at the bewildered brothers and smiled, without much explanation, and ordered: "You should immediately notify all Buddhist sects and tell them that the Buddha has appeared in the world, let them stop all affairs, and make sure to find the Buddha."

The author has something to say:

Chapter 96 was my mistake. The saved drafts are meaningless. I really didn’t save any drafts. I just set it up for fun. But now I can’t delete it. Ugh… I’ll see if I can replace that chapter with a special chapter or something like that_(:з”∠)_