Chapter 3: The Master of Forgetting Emotions

Nestled in the far western reaches of the Wanfo Sect, Forgetting Emotions Peak is surrounded by towering trees and expansive woodlands. Inside the temple, clouds and mist swirl, hiding the true face of the peak from all but its own disciples.

To the disciples of Wanfo Sect, Forgetting Emotions Zen is the most enigmatic of all the schools. What it cultivates and how it does so remain shrouded in mystery, with no one able to articulate its essence. When outsiders inquire about the disciples of Forgetting Emotions Zen, they receive a cacophony of theories and tales.

Even the disciples, who live within its walls, find this mysterious Zen practice elusive. For those outside its domain, understanding is even more clouded, with countless legends swirling about it. Some say its followers kill their wives or children to attain enlightenment, while others insist they are free of self and worldly possessions…

Among these tales, the most renowned is that of the Master of Forgetting Emotions, Zhang Chang. His beauty surpasses that of any in the world; no words can adequately describe his face or aura. To attempt to label him with mere adjectives would be an affront to his existence.

Countless admirers have fallen at his feet upon merely seeing his image in a projection sphere, and even the most esteemed sect leaders have sworn they would marry no one but him. Yet, the path he walks is one of deep renunciation, embodying the principle of transcending emotions and distancing himself from worldly desires.

At first, He Guang scoffed at such tales.

However, as the mist began to part and the projection of the Master of Forgetting Emotions appeared in the air, she stealthily retrieved her projection sphere.

Amitabha, the rumors do not deceive me.

The Master of Forgetting Emotions, Zhang Chang, sat regally upon a jade stone, his eyes gently closed. A radiant, mystical aura emanated from his crown, enveloping him in a shroud of celestial energy. His fingers formed the delicate “flower-picking” gesture, each finger resembling a slender green onion, its joints artfully defined. A wisp of ethereal cloud curled around his pinky, evoking endless fantasies and dreams.

“Disciples of Forgetting Emotions Zen belong to the Wanfo Sect; all matters should be entrusted to the Law Enforcement Hall,” he announced with a voice that resonated like a gentle breeze through a serene forest.

His presence was swift, but his departure even swifter.

Before the trio could fully comprehend the moment, Zhang Chang’s figure had vanished into thin air.

He Guang cleared her throat and slyly tucked away her projection sphere, knowing that the latest image of the Master of Forgetting Emotions could fetch a considerable price.

Liu Yiyi placed her hand over her heart, still reeling from the overwhelming beauty she had just witnessed. “Oh, how I wish I could be a disciple of Forgetting Emotions Zen!”

You Xiaowu, however, was the most animated of the three, dramatically slapping his thigh with exaggerated sorrow. “What a wasted opportunity! If I were in that position, I would gladly settle for being a stone beneath his feet! Just imagine, that’s the revered posterior of the Master of Forgetting Emotions! My life would have no regrets!”

The young monk shot them an exasperated glance, politely urging them to leave.

He Guang accompanied Liu Yiyi to the entrance of Wanfo Sect, promising her a personal explanation later and advising her to refrain from any attempts at foundation-building for the time being. Once matters were settled, she would help Liu Yiyi confront her inner demons herself.

Liu Yiyi was deeply moved, glancing back several times as she left, reluctant to part ways.

After they were alone, You Xiaowu suddenly grew uneasy, feeling that something was amiss. “The Master of Forgetting Emotions agreed way too quickly. Ji Chanzi is his prized disciple; could there be a hidden agenda in so easily handing him over?”

He Guang regarded him with a hint of approval. “Although Forgetting Emotions Zen appears glamorous on the surface, the reality has long been challenging.”

Each Zen sect operates independently, responsible for its own finances. This means that the disciples must dig into their own pockets to pay their monthly allowances. They earn spirit stones through tasks, a portion of which is submitted as taxes to sustain the peak. Most sects rely on this arrangement, with the Wanfo Sect providing additional support.

However, Forgetting Emotions Zen has severed ties with worldly matters and has very few disciples taking on tasks. Ji Chanzi is one of the rare exceptions, yet without any income, the disciples’ monthly allowances still need to be covered. They can only turn to the Law Enforcement Hall of the Wanfo Sect for assistance.

You Xiaowu declared confidently, “They’re just freeloaders!”

“The Law Enforcement Hall might be willing to provide funds out of respect for the Master’s high status, but he’s been cooped up for three thousand years, and their budget continues to dwindle. Honestly, the old-timers at the top are growing increasingly impatient.”

Suddenly, a crack of thunder roared above He Guang’s head, singeing half of her hair.

You Xiaowu looked up in terror. “Master Sister, stop talking! They heard you!”

He Guang joined her palms together, bowing three times toward the storm clouds. “Esteemed Ancestors and Elders, I am but an unworthy junior; please do not take offense!”

The thunderclouds rumbled ominously for a moment before dispersing.

He Guang let out a sigh of relief and tossed her jade token to You Xiaowu. “I need to find Ji Chanzi. You go to the Law Enforcement Hall and file my request to leave the sect.”

You Xiaowu held the jade token with envy.

The identity tokens for those at the Golden Core stage are crafted from jade, varying in quality based on the disciple’s rank. He Guang’s token, adorned with golden edges and made of the finest Hetian jade, was the highest tier among Golden Core tokens.

In contrast, he pulled out his own token—a dull, battered wooden plaque that had seen better days.

“I want a jade token too!”

He Guang smirked. “If you want to reach the Golden Core, first fix that big mouth of yours. I’m already at the Nascent Soul stage; you might not even reach Golden Core before I have to support you in your old age!”

The eldest sister’s disdain for herself made You Xiaowu’s chest feel a bit tight. But when he heard the words “retirement and end-of-life care,” a smirk crept up on his lips.

He playfully pouted, “Eldest Sister, let me come with you! I want to see the Great Yan Sect too.”

The cultivation world had four major sects: the Great Yan Sect, Kunlun Sword Sect, Ten Thousand Buddhas Sect, and the Formless Demon Sect.

Among them, the Great Yan Sect had the most members and was the wealthiest.

He Guang immediately shot down the idea; she didn’t want to carry a burden with her. However, You Xiaowu was relentless, clinging to her arm and shamelessly acting cute, showering her with compliments that could rival a rainbow. A wave of warmth washed over He Guang, and she found herself unable to resist his charm.

With a cheerful bounce in his step, You Xiaowu took their identification tokens to register.

He Guang turned and soared toward the peak of the Angry Fury Mountains. Before leaving the mountain, she needed to say goodbye to her master.

Her master wouldn’t care whether she left or not; after all, she had been gone for several years, and he might not even notice. But if he found out she hadn’t said goodbye before departing, it would be a disaster beyond repair—far worse than just a slap on the wrist.

Remembering her senior brother’s previous experiences made He Guang feel a bit anxious.

She lived at the mountain’s summit with her master while her senior brother had been traveling for ages and hadn’t returned.

At the entrance, a towering peach tree reached toward the clouds, personally planted by the Zen Master of Angry Fury before his ascension—now two thousand years old.

In the vibrant spring of March, the sun shone brightly, and the peach blossoms bloomed in a fierce competition of beauty, each more stunning than the last.

Yet, all of them paled in comparison to the young man sitting in the branches of the tree.

Amidst the floral splendor, he was a sight to behold: his eyes sparkled like bright stars, his lips were a vibrant red against his white teeth, and his proud demeanor and graceful movements left onlookers captivated at first glance.

He slowly raised his hand and waved to He Guang with effortless charm.

He Guang stopped in her tracks. Had the peach tree come to life? Who was this person?

Just as she was about to return the wave, she saw his crimson lips move, and something shot straight toward her.

With a swift motion, He Guang raised her hand and pinched the object between her fingers.

It was a peach pit.

The peach pit.

It was damp, sticky, and still faintly warm.

Freshly spat from someone’s mouth.

Hmph.

He Guang let out a soft laugh and took a step toward the young man, the prayer beads coiled around her wrist trembling slightly.

As she approached, the wind howled, and the peach tree below shivered. Yet, as she drew closer, the tree stilled, and even though a breeze swept through, the blossoms seemed to freeze in place, as if held captive by an unseen force.

Xie Xuan propped himself up against the tree trunk and stood, looking down at her with an air of superiority. “So, you’re He Guang? The Buddhist cultivator who saved the young master of the Demon Sect?”

He Guang raised her gaze, her eyes void of any warmth. The way she looked at him was as if he were already dead. “Come down.”

Xie Xuan chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest, his tone full of mockery. “You tell me to come down, and I’ll just do it? Wouldn’t that be terribly undignified of me?”

In truth, he was helpless—his entire body had been paralyzed by a sealing powder, and his ankle was tied to the branch above. There was no way he could come down on his own.

He Guang sneered inwardly. Even as a cultivator in the Golden Core stage, he hadn’t noticed how obvious his bluff was. All bluster on the outside, but hollow within—utterly pathetic.

“The tree you’re standing on was planted by Zen Master of Angry Fury himself before he ascended.”

Xie Xuan’s face instantly paled, though he tried to maintain his defiance. “I-I’ll apologize to both the master and his precious tree… in due time.”

Before he could finish, He Guang slammed her palm against the trunk. A sharp gust of wind swept through, sending a storm of peach blossoms swirling into the air.

Xie Xuan, still tied by his ankle, flipped upside down, dangling awkwardly mid-air. Only his right foot remained attached to the branch, leaving him in a ridiculous position.

Xie Xuan’s face flushed bright red with rage as he pointed at He Guang and demanded, “Isn’t this your ancestral master’s tree? And you just smack it like that?”

He Guang stepped closer, her gaze dropping as she looked down at him. “The tree is dead; people are alive. I’m sure our master prefers me over the tree. She wouldn’t mind if I gave it a little scratch.”

As Xie Xuan’s expression shifted to one of horror, He Guang seized his chin and shoved the peach pit back into his mouth, forcing him to swallow it. Still hanging upside down, Xie Xuan couldn’t get the pit down on his own. With a sharp grin, He Guang began smacking his stomach, each hit pushing the pit further down his throat.

“Little bastard, that’s what you get for littering!”

Xie Xuan’s stomach churned with nausea, and his mind was just as unsettled. Was this really the infamous Zen of Angry Fury? The violence was too much!

He tried to open his mouth to protest, but before he could get a word out, she grabbed him by the collar and hauled him upright. His face reddened even more—not just from the blood rushing to his head but from the utter humiliation.

A man can be killed but never shamed.

Xie Xuan struggled like a fish out of water, writhing and flailing, about to dry out under the scorching sun. His eyes burned with fury as he glared at her.

But she only smiled, a radiant smile that sent a shiver down his spine, and whispered the words of a devil in his ear, “Don’t worry, we’re just getting started.”

The grip on his chin loosened. He opened his mouth wide, desperate to spit out the peach pit, but before he could, his world spun. His mouth was suddenly filled with dirt—wet, muddy soil with the metallic taste of post-rain earth and a faint, unpleasant tang.

“He Guang, you—damn it!” Xie Xuan cursed, struggling in vain.

He Guang sat firmly on his waist, pressing his head deep into the dirt until it was firmly packed around him. With deliberate slowness, she spoke, “My senior brother raised a parrot. We call it Bagger.”

Xie Xuan sneered inwardly. What an idiot. Isn’t a parrot just a Bagger? He pressed his hands into the ground, trying to push himself up, but his efforts were futile. It felt as though a mountain was weighing him down—he couldn’t move an inch under her.

Then, he heard her voice again, calm and ominous. “Bagger likes to flap around on this tree, right above your head.”

A chill ran down Xie Xuan’s spine. Wait… that smell… could it be…?

“Everyone has urgent needs from time to time. Imagine a parrot like Bagger.”

Xie Xuan’s lungs burned with rage.

“He Guang, you—damn it!” He cursed again, helpless against both his situation and the humiliating truth she was suggesting.