Chapter Twenty-Three: Bloodshed in the Buddha's Realm

In the night, the monastery was immersed in tranquility. Under the dim yellow light, the golden Buddha statues quietly watched over this peaceful world. The continuous chime of wind bells drifted with the evening breeze, and the low chant of mantras added a touch of mystery and solemnity to the cosmos. Occasionally, the recitation of scriptures by the monks could be heard, a whisper of faith that also served as a lullaby for the night. Li Hao, Lysandra, and I each settled into the plain but warm monk's quarters, grateful for this momentary peace and calm.

However, this peace was suddenly shattered. A startling sound of fighting erupted in the dead of night, an unexpected turn of events. The initial shock was followed by confusion and anxiety—who would fight at such a time and place? The air, once calm, now filled with a disturbing air of tension.

Beneath the night sky, where flickering lights danced, monks' silhouettes quickly swept across the corridors, and the entire monastery was thrown into restless unease. Li Hao, Lysandra, and I hurriedly left our humble quarters, our hearts filled with unease and curiosity, yearning to uncover the truth behind this chaos.

Barefoot, we walked along the cold stone path, the atmosphere of tension spreading among the monks. We saw some of them exchanging worried glances, discussing possible causes in hushed tones, holding lanterns that added a warm glow to the dim monastery.

As people gathered, an unusual noise broke the typically quiet monastery. The sound of fearful shouts mixed with those trying to stabilize the situation in a deep chant, but in this unexpected disturbance, it seemed no one could remain completely calm.

Passing through the echoing corridors, we approached the source of the noise. Doors were opening, and long-practicing elder monks peered out with looks of disbelief. Some of the monks started moving in groups, seemingly for mutual protection and readiness to face unknown threats. Amongst the waiting and uncertainty, monks formed into small circles, exchanging information and speculations.

Amidst the chaos, people guessed at the source of the fight. Some murmured it might be the intrusion of external thieves, others wondered whether there was a dispute among the monks, and a few softly chanted prayers, hoping that Buddha would calm this sudden and ominous upheaval.

Li Hao, Lysandra, and I exchanged glances, our eyes conveying tension. It was unbelievable to think that the usually peaceful and serene monastery could fall into such disarray. We were filled with apprehension, buoyed by a sense of urgency and unease about the truth soon to be revealed, as we edged closer to the heart of the conflict.

As we neared the epicenter of the fight, the noise became clearer. Angry shouts and the clashing of objects rang out piercingly in the silent night, foreshadowing some misfortune unfolding.

Doubt and anxiety clouded everyone's minds. For a moment, the whole monastery was engulfed by an unusual restlessness and disquiet. Countless beams of light moved rapidly within the monastery, weaving a tapestry of worry and confusion through the shadows. The peaceful night was no longer calm; the spacious corridors had become a stage brimming with astonishment and scheming.

Arriving at the scene, we saw two figures engaged in physical combat. The sacred space, meant for the adoration of Buddha, was now filled with disorder and fury. The chanting, which should have added peace and wisdom to the air, had now utterly dissipated amidst the melee. Mixed with the sounds of impulsive fighting seemed almost uncontrollable anger and resentment. This scene disrupted the harmony of the monastery and also brought a heavy sense of ill-omen to our hearts.

At the end of a corridor dimly lit by yellow light, loud sounds of combat froze the atmosphere of the entire monastery. People gathered tensely, the sparse light bouncing off their horrified faces, casting an especially sorrowful scene. Amidst the chaos and discord, a conspicuous pool of blood on the ground marked the beginning of a tragedy.

The scene inside revealed the grim reality behind the disturbance—the Master Abbot lay in a corner, wounded by an unknown assault, with blood progressively staining the ground. His normally warm and appeasing face was now frozen in a final grimace of pain; his eyes, which had always conveyed wisdom and compassion, were now closed forever.

Like the other monks, Li Hao, Lysandra, and I could hardly believe what we saw before us. The Master Abbot was not only the spiritual pillar of the monastery but also a mentor for all the faithful. Throughout his life, he preached compassion, advocated for meditation and reflection, and his words could always calm the hearts and cleanse the spirits of listeners.

Under his benevolent protection, the monastery maintained peace and harmony; his presence was a consolation for the spirit and a torch leading others to the light. However, that torch had now been extinguished. His passing was not only the loss of an elder but represented a significant loss to the monastery's spirit, with impacts far exceeding the news of his death itself.

The air in the monastery suddenly became heavy, the tranquility shattered in an instant. Sounds fell to nearly imperceptible levels, with only the faint clicks of prayer beads and occasional sobs breaking through. The expressions on people's faces were both shocked and mournful, as if the monastery had lost its soul. Countless memories turned pale in that moment, and a fear for the future began to spread among everyone.

The Master's departure filled the quiet night sky with a heavy sigh. Everyone at the monastery mourned in silence, pained and contemplative. In the silence, they realized that the once peaceful spiritual haven no longer existed, replaced instead by chaos and confusion. The monks, who had grown under the glow of the Master's guidance, now faced the additional challenge of inheriting and promoting his legacy, finding new paths of enlightenment.

In the incense-perfumed ambiance of the ancient temple, the identity and motive of the murderer quickly became clear. It was a senior monk, and shockingly, the designated successor of the Master. Known for his quiet meditation, his face now bore rage and madness, and he was apprehended by fellow monks while his anger lingered. The reason was nothing other than the Nine-Eyed Dzi Bead, which had driven him to murderous intent and an unforgivable crime.

Reportedly, this monk had long coveted the legendary Nine-Eyed Dzi Bead, thinking it possessed the power to reincarnate enlightened children or bestow upon him immense mystical abilities and the highest authority within the monastery. When he learned that the Master had entrusted the Nine-Eyed Dzi Bead to us three visitors, me, Li Hao, and Lysandra, his heart was torn with disbelief and perceived betrayal of his faith and ambitions.

Driven by envy and anger, he went to extremes. In his heart, where there should have resided respect and obedience for the Master, his selfish desires left him unable to accept an outcome that did not align with his wishes. He failed to understand the Master's compassionate intentions and overlooked the spiritual and historical significance of the Nine-Eyed Dzi Bead, sinking into his self-constructed delusions and resentments.

With the fire of rage cloaking his inner light, the monk forgot the clarity and release expected of a practitioner; his heart was wholly consumed by dark desires. On the path leading to a trap, he lost the courage and wisdom to turn back, and as he approached his demise, he also took away the peace of a wise man and the sanctuary.

Facing this sudden tragedy, the other monks at the temple were mostly filled with grief and incomprehension. They couldn't help but wonder if the monk would have had a different conclusion had he remained true to his inner clarity and honesty, and listened to the Master's true thoughts about the Nine-Eyed Dzi Bead. But the tragedy had occurred, and the monastery was suddenly enveloped in the shadow of this egregious sin.

In the days without the Abbot, we—the outsiders who were given the Nine-Eyed Dzi Bead—felt full of self-reproach and heaviness. We realized that the Abbot's gift was not only a sign of his trust but also a conferral of responsibility upon us. In this showdown between ideology and desire, we saw the complexity of human hearts and reinforced our original intention to search for the Five Elements Rings and protect historical truths.

The monastery under the night sky had become unsettled and chaotic due to a bloody internal conflict, and intense anger and profound sorrow tore at everyone's hearts. After the conflict had ended, the monks and lay practitioners in the monastery became busy attempting to manage the situation and stabilize the mood.

In the shadow of this tragedy, the other monks appeared exceptionally grave. They engaged in silent prayers, comforted others, or wept over the Abbot's demise. They realized that maintaining the monastery's order was now the most crucial task to prevent further spread of panic. Some of the senior monks began directing the younger ones to move the Abbot's body and organized an emergency meeting to discuss the next steps.

Meanwhile, lay practitioners within the monastery, touched by the atmosphere of profound sorrow, started to find their own ways to contribute. Some devotedly offered prayers for the Abbot, hoping the Buddha would guide his soul to paradise; others began to organize the daily routines within the monastery to ensure normal activities could continue during this tumultuous time.

In a quiet corner, Li Hao, Lysandra, and I discussed how to help the monastery through the crisis. We decided to assist as much as possible, whether through physical labor or providing comfort and support. At the same time, we reminded each other to be vigilant of internal dynamics within the monastery, prepared for any further discord or conflict.

To prevent exacerbation of the situation, the monastery implemented a series of emergency measures. The monastery was closed to outsiders and ceased to welcome any visitors, while inside, the night patrols were intensified. For the perpetrator, the monastery followed the guiding principles of Buddhism and dealt with him in a manner combining compassion with law, avoiding extreme measures by themselves.

Though the hallowed grounds could not immediately mitigate the enormous impact of the tragedy, the monastery strove to collect the shattered pieces and reconsolidate into a unified whole. For us, this afflicted monastery had become not just a temporary shelter on our journey but also a place of irrevocable responsibility. Here, tragedy and hope, shadows and light, were intricately woven, forming complex and profound tales of human life.

On a moonlit night, the majestic monastery faced a bloodshed tragedy rarely seen in its history. The untimely demise of the Abbot shocked the entire monastery and posed a severe challenge to the reputation and future of this tranquil sanctuary. The long-standing prestige of the monastery and its attraction to adherents from the outside world may be questioned due to this incident. How to rebuild the power of faith in the days to come would be a formidable task for all monks and devotees.

Amidst the intertwined emotions, both monks and visiting practitioners began to deeply remember the Abbot. His teachings on compassion and wisdom, on how to lead a meaningful life, now resonated more preciously in everyone's heart. His death was undoubtedly a loss of spiritual guidance for everyone at the monastery. In the great hall, the monks performed rites in his honor, praying for the peace of his soul.

Simultaneously, the monks sought to treat the perpetrator justly. While processing their emotions, they did not forget their essence, holding steadfast to compassion, hoping to resolve the crisis with the wisdom of Buddhism. As the perpetrator was brought before the statues in the temple hall, the trial proceeded with solemnity and gentleness, adhering to the internal discipline of the Buddhist community and demonstrating the Buddhist spirit of reverence for life. Everyone hoped this fair trial would lead to peace and salvation rather than further hatred and alienation.

The monastery's future was full of uncertainties. How to continue advancing while upholding the spirit of the Abbot became a collective mission for all monks. Many younger monks pondered how to absorb new elements while maintaining tradition to face and solve challenges. Lay practitioners also actively participated in the monastery's affairs, offering advice and working together for its future.

After the upheaval, life in the monastery would eventually return to tranquility. The mountain breezes would still gently sweep through, and prayer flags would quietly continue to proclaim Buddha's compassion and tolerance. Those who had gone through this ordeal would carry new understanding and spiritual strength, supporting the monastery with a renewed light in the sky. And yet, I found myself lost in contemplation, recognizing that human nature does not yield absolute answers. Even the most sacred place of worship can harbor demons in the hearts of long-time devotees, should evil thoughts arise.

At that moment, I was reminded of a Chinese Buddhist story I had read back in modern New York. The story spoke of a monk named Huineng, the Sixth Patriarch, who was hunted by his peers for receiving the Fifth Patriarch's cassock and bowl. It conveyed that the Buddha's seekers, if attached, could render the gates of Buddhism as impure as the secular world. Reflecting on tonight's events, I suddenly understood much more.