Chapter 630 — No Blade in the Buddha Land
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 1 of 4
As his three gazes swept across them, those several hundred Buddha-sons felt their hearts lurch in sudden alarm. Every manner of Buddhist chant rose unceasing in their ears, and each one whom Shen Mu's gaze touched could not help but fling open all his divine storehouses and let his aura erupt in full! For they had sensed the killing intent in his eyes, and every one of them believed that intent was aimed at himself.
Swept by that gaze, they burst out with all their power, a reaction so flustered that it cost them no small measure of their dignity — yet it gave a rare glimpse of how differently each of them cultivated his arts and divine powers.
Some bore a canopy of cloud-light above their heads, and within that cloud-light sat a great Buddha; some had halos behind their skulls, and a hundred-odd dainty Buddhas wheeled around them inside the halo, chanting the Buddhist sounds. Some had golden springs welling up beneath their feet, the springs spread with lotus leaves and blossoms, so that they stood upon a single red lotus at the center. Others had cultivated the stranger heterodox methods of the Buddhist order until they wore three heads and six arms with faces like yakshas; and others again were spotless, their whole bodies bathed in holy light.
Their primal weapons were no less fantastical — lutes, parasols, pearls, bows, treasured swords, vajras, golden maces, every kind of primal weapon under the sun; and some had forged strange beasts into weapons, driving the beasts with their primal essence and loosing them to maul men. The twenty heavens of the Buddhist order each had their Buddha Lords with different emphases, and so their arts differed too.
And among these Buddha-sons, besides the arts of the Buddhist order, many secret disciplines of the Heavenly Court had likewise been forced out by Shen Mu's gaze.
Under the regard of his third eye, every cultivation, every realm, stood plain and legible. These Buddha-sons were not grand figures like Qi Jiuyi — Qi Jiuyi was an honored man of the Heavenly Court, and the art he cultivated was an Emperor's Throne art; even Lu Li, military governor of Youdu, must treat him with the utmost reverence and dare not slight him.
The Buddha-sons, though they came from the Heavenly Court or were bound to it, had no access to Emperor's Throne arts; the Emperor's Throne arts were hardly cabbages by the roadside — otherwise the Heavenly Court would never have sent them here to try to master the true Emperor's Throne Sutra of Brahma, the Heavenly Buddha King. "Insolence!
" Dharma King Molun went crimson with fury and shouted, "To dare kill in my Buddhist realm — you truly are a fiend!
" Shen Mu paid him no heed. He withdrew his gaze and looked down at his own two hands, murmuring, "It has been a long time since I used my full strength.
.
. Even when I fought Qi Jiuyi and Zhe Huali, I never opened all three eyes. I do not know how far I have cultivated.
" Dharma King Molun was briefly taken aback; he was about to rage on when suddenly a voice came from the ruined temple — the voice of Sakra, the Heavenly Buddha King: "Junior brother Molun, calm yourself. When disciples contend, death and injury can hardly be avoided; will you step into the ring yourself? A life is no more than a stinking skin-bag, and Prince Moonlight has shed his — light and free, a cause for great rejoicing.
The rule is set: let the Buddha-sons challenge Layman Shen, and whoever wins takes the last place and enters the temple to learn the true Emperor's Throne Sutra.
" Dharma King Molun's wrath was past containing, yet he swallowed it, thinking, "Sakra, the Heavenly Buddha King, is backing this boy?