Chapter 109: So you remember!

"Should I stay? Or should I leave the mountain?" This was the first time he had ever considered the question. "I... I don't know."

"You should stay! I'll give you chicken legs to eat from now on."

He didn't know why, but he actually believed Zhiyin's nonsense. He became Zhiyin's junior brother as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It was only later that he remembered monks were forbidden from eating meat; he would never get to eat those chicken legs.

"I'll tell you one thing to say; it will come in handy whenever you don't know what to do. They might even say you have great spiritual wisdom."

"Wh-what thing?" Zhiyin had always been considered the one with the most wisdom, while he was the one everyone disliked.

"Amitabha, truly virtuous, truly virtuous!"

"What thing?"

"Amitabha, truly virtuous, truly virtuous!"

"What thing? Senior brother, what exactly is it?"

"Amitabha, truly virtuous, truly virtuous!" Zhiyin looked at him, exasperated by his lack of progress. "Master told me to give you a dharma name. You're such a dunce—I think I'll just call you Zhilin!"

With that, Zhiyin stormed off in a rage. For some reason, he felt a sudden, sharp pang of heartache. It felt as if he had forgotten something far more important.

"Amitabha, truly virtuous, truly virtuous!" He mimicked Zhiyin, adjusting his prayer beads, straightening his back, and strolling through the sect.

The ground was blanketed in golden-yellow ginkgo leaves, crunching softly beneath his feet. Alone, bathed in moonlight, he followed the trail of leaves as he walked onward.

When he could walk no further, he looked up. Before him stood an ancient ginkgo tree as thick as a well-mouth, appearing eerily supernatural under the moonlight.

Hanging from the tree was a man.

The man was none other than himself.

Zhiyin looked just as he had in their childhood. Carrying a flask of wine, he walked over. "Will you drink this? If you drink this, you can forget this place."

"Where is this?" he heard himself ask.

"This is you, and this is me." Zhiyin reached out and patted his head. "Because I forgot, I caused you to suffer."

"Senior brother..." He felt a sudden, piercing pain. The wine cup from Zhiyin's hand was already in his own. He didn't know what kind of mood he was in when he drank it. "Why... why must those chosen as the Master's disciples have to... have to suffer these torments?"

"Zhilin." Zhiyin’s fingertip tapped his brow, and a warm current surged into his heart. "You need to forget this place. It is my fault. From now on, it is enough that I bear the suffering alone."

"I don't want that." He pushed Zhiyin away and pointed at himself hanging from the tree. The wine had made his mind increasingly muddled. "Senior brother, am I... am I dead?"

"Amitabha, truly virtuous, truly virtuous." Zhiyin looked at him on the tree and sighed with a smile, his face showing a maturity that did not belong to his age. "Zhilin, only by forgetting can you survive."

"Then why do you still remember?" He seemed to recall that his trial was to pass beneath this tree; he had been struck by an evil curse and had died. But if so, why was he still alive?

"It is enough for one person to bear the suffering of this world." He looked at the ginkgo tree, as if speaking to the tree itself. "From now on, you shall be free of sorrow and joy. It is enough that I go to question the gods."

"Gods?" He was startled, looking back at the ginkgo tree.

That was right—the Secret Sect had no ginkgo trees, nor did it have such a well.

He stood by the well, its bottom hidden in darkness. "Senior brother, if I jump down, will I wake up?"

"Yes. Forget this place, forget the past, and just be yourself."

"Amitabha, truly virtuous, truly virtuous."

"Will you come back, senior brother?"

"I will." Zhiyin gave him a push. "Zhilin, one day you will grow up, and one by one, we will all leave you."

He felt a tap on his shoulder, and the Buddha of Sorrow and Joy felt his hair stand on end. He muttered, "Amitabha, truly virtuous, truly virtuous." It seemed only these words could bring him peace.

"I recognize you." The one who emerged was none other than Ling Yi. "Do you want to know what the tree in your dream is?"

The Buddha of Sorrow and Joy was stunned. He knew in his heart that everything in his dream had truly happened, but having just woken up, the memory was already fading; he was struggling to recall the appearance of the tree.

"That tree is the favorite of the god you saw."

"A god?"

"Yes." Ling Yi nodded. "Before I was captured by the Holy Son, I was the God of Prayer and Fortune, but... I was a fake."

The Buddha of Sorrow and Joy: "..."

"The true god..." He looked meaningfully toward the room. "I suspect it is my master. Or perhaps that god has many aliases. The most common is the God of Prayer and Fortune, because the temple was very dilapidated, but no one dared to repair it. I would sit on the offering table and consume the incense they brought."

The Buddha of Sorrow and Joy felt a wave of tension. From the moment Wen Jingge had brought this child along, he had sensed that the boy was not normal. Whenever he approached the child, he could always feel a familiar aura—what could it be?

He meditated, "Are you... that tree?"

"No." He shook his head. Being just a child, he was also quite confused. "I used to think that seeing the future was the power of a god. Later, I discovered that in the face of danger, I had no ability to resist at all. That was when I understood I was merely a god they had pushed forward."

The Buddha of Sorrow and Joy did not understand what the child had endured, but judging by the Feast of a Hundred Ghosts, his past life must have been even more miserable than he had imagined.

"Until I met the Master. I believe there are gods in this world. I saw that the number of lives the Master carried on her shoulders was far greater than I had imagined. At the time, I thought it was the future."

He pursed his lips, looking at the starry sky before turning back to the Buddha of Sorrow and Joy. "You are following the Master to ask for something, aren't you?"

The Buddha of Sorrow and Joy was stunned. He didn't understand how the child's train of thought had jumped again, so he could only reply, "It is not the time."

"Oh." The child nodded indifferently. "I can also see the past. The Master is a person without a future."

This statement was somewhat blasphemous. The Buddha of Sorrow and Joy suddenly understood why this kid had come to him for a heart-to-heart.

"She only has a past."

"So, I had that dream because of you?"

"No, it was because of my senior brother Yang." Ling Yi shook his head in distress, glaring resentfully at the room behind him. "I woke up because of him. He was sleeping, and the curses of the Soul Clan leaked out. The room was too lively, so I wanted to come out for some air."

"..." The Buddha of Sorrow and Joy said, "Amitabha, truly virtuous, truly virtuous!"

He truly did not know how to respond. Master Wen's disciples were more formidable than the last—either they had incredible backgrounds or supernatural abilities. How dared he answer?

"So..." he said with a wry smile.

"You sleeping outside has less of an impact. That way, you can come with me."

"Come?" He suddenly sensed something. He looked behind him; the door was firmly shut. Ling Yi was carefully closing it, as if afraid of waking the people inside.

"That's right!" The Ling Yi before him transformed into a large ginkgo leaf. "You've remembered!"