I Might Be a Big Shot — Chapter 32
Li Xinglun’s heart leapt into his throat, terrified that Changkong Zhuoyu would blurt out something like: “Turns out in my past life I was likely a Buddhist cultivator. Looks like I should go shave my head.”
Nervously, he stared at Changkong Zhuoyu’s jet-black long hair, his fingertips twitching. He wondered if he ought to sneak a good handful of that hair before his master actually shaved it all off.
Thankfully, this time Changkong Zhuoyu seemed much less sensitive about the notion of his identity. Instead, he looked at the Buddha statue and said, “It seems this statue is genuine, and carries profound Buddhist power. Moreover, it’s disguised and guarding this small town. Even the demonic sects probably haven’t discovered its presence. With this Buddha statue seated in the yamen, it serves as a protective charm for the whole town. Even if someone employed dark arts to stir up trouble, it shouldn’t have been so easy to drive everyone mad. As long as the Buddha’s power within the yamen isn’t broken, the town shouldn’t so easily have become a ruin. What on earth happened eight hundred years ago?”
While Changkong Zhuoyu lowered his head in thought, Li Xinglun slowly stepped forward. Staring at his long hair, his fingertips quivered more violently, and at last he raised his hand and lightly stroked that smooth black hair. The soft sensation traveled from his fingers all the way to his heart, melting it into a pool of warmth.
Although he had yet to reach Nascent Soul stage, Li Xinglun already realized what his heart-demon would be.
Ever since he fell into the depths of the Soul-Breaking Gorge, the only thing that could move his heart was Changkong Zhuoyu.
Forget it. His master’s beauty was peerless, with or without hair he would still be stunning. Adding one more identity would only make Changkong Zhuoyu happier.
At that thought, Li Xinglun spoke up, attentive and proactive: “Master, when I entered here it was still a ruin. Only after you stepped in did it transform into a Buddha hall. And you also said this yamen was protected by Buddhist power. For a Buddha hall to remain hidden at the foot of Heaven-Shaking Peak for so many years, it can’t easily be broken by external force. Yet the moment you entered, the hall changed. Could it be… Master, were you once connected to Buddhist cultivation?”
Sure enough, Changkong Zhuoyu’s eyes lit up. He looked at Li Xinglun with approval, his expression reading clearly: “Ah, the disciple can be taught.”
“My disciple, no wonder when we first met at the bottom of the Soul-Breaking Gorge, I felt such an instant affinity with you and was eager to take you as my disciple. Turns out it’s because we’re so fated.” Changkong Zhuoyu nodded and patted his shoulder.
Encouraged, Li Xinglun continued: “In fact, there are two more things that can prove your connection to Buddhist cultivation. First, during the Mount Shu calamity, Master Wuyin’s Buddha seal had already been reversed, but you restored it with a single sword stroke. I believe that’s tied to the Buddhist power within you. Second, your attitude toward your own gender also seems to embody the Buddhist principle of ‘form is emptiness, emptiness is form.’”
Li Xinglun thought this time, after saying all that, Changkong Zhuoyu would eagerly embrace a Buddhist identity and stick it on himself. But unexpectedly, this time Changkong Zhuoyu merely gazed up at the Buddha statue for a long while before letting out a bitter laugh.
Li Xinglun had never seen Changkong Zhuoyu decline an identity when it was handed to him. A little uneasy, he wondered — could it actually be true this time? Because it was true, his master didn’t dare admit it?
Thinking of the Buddhist ideal of letting go of all attachments and emotions, Li Xinglun’s heart sank. He only wanted to help his master be happy, not truly hope he was a Buddhist cultivator. To Li Xinglun, his master bore no relation to the imagined image of a Buddhist cultivator — surely he wasn’t one.
But… what if he really was?
If Changkong Zhuoyu was a Buddhist cultivator, then his unfathomable strength would make sense. For a Buddhist cultivator to attain fruition was much harder than for a cultivator of the Dao. Dao cultivators generally advanced step by step, and as long as their cultivation stage was sufficient, karmic debt light, and heavenly tribulation mild, they could ascend. Buddhist cultivators, on the other hand, cultivated merit. If merit in one lifetime wasn’t enough, they would continue in the next. Accumulated over many lifetimes, Buddhist cultivators often surpassed immortals in power, yet still couldn’t reach perfect completion because their merit fell short. And merit was easily lost — one broken vow could ruin countless lifetimes of cultivation. Worse, if they made a misstep and were obliterated in one lifetime, they could never reincarnate again.
Changkong Zhuoyu’s present strength — probably only a multi-life Buddhist cultivator could achieve it.
Li Xinglun’s heart grew colder. He had fallen for Changkong Zhuoyu, yet they were master and disciple. Becoming Dao companions {life companions sharing the same karmic destiny} in such a situation was not unheard of, but still frowned upon in the righteous sects. Li Xinglun had come to Heaven-Shaking Peak intending to follow Changkong Zhuoyu into the demonic path. Demonic cultivators didn’t care about propriety — in the Yin-Yang sect {focusing on sexual cultivation}, master-disciple and same-sect relationships were all tangled up, despised by the righteous, but seen as normal by the demonic.
Li Xinglun certainly wouldn’t behave as promiscuous as a typical Yin-Yang sect member. He was wholly devoted to Changkong Zhuoyu. But if his master was a Buddhist cultivator, truly free of all attachments, then even if Li Xinglun embraced the demonic path, he wouldn’t win the slightest affection from Changkong Zhuoyu.
Looking at his master with a complicated gaze, Li Xinglun dearly hoped Changkong Zhuoyu would claim this identity — then he could sneer at it and be sure his master wasn’t really a multi-life Buddhist cultivator.
After a long while, Changkong Zhuoyu finally sighed deeply, turned his head to Li Xinglun with a face full of melancholy, and said, “Disciple, I’ve racked my brains for so long and still can’t come up with a reasonable explanation to reconcile the identity of a multi-life Buddhist cultivator with the others. I… sigh, it’s just too hard.”
Li Xinglun: “…”
So that was it? He’d been worrying for nothing!
And was an identity some kind of treasure? Clutching one on the left and another on the right, unwilling to let any go, insisting on claiming them all.
Truly… too adorable.
Li Xinglun slowly moved closer, lifting a stray lock of Changkong Zhuoyu’s hair and holding it in his hand. In a low voice he said, “Who says Master can’t be a multi-life Buddhist cultivator? Does a multi-life Buddhist cultivator have to cultivate Buddhism? The Buddha manifests in myriad forms, witnessing all the ways of the world. Even Guanyin has a thousand appearances — each one a taste of the world, each one a realization.”
“You mean…” Changkong Zhuoyu’s eyes once again sparkled brilliantly, as if stars had fallen into them, dazzling.
Resisting the urge to kiss the corner of his master’s eye, Li Xinglun gripped that lock of hair even tighter and hoarsely said, “Whether it’s Xue Qianjie or the Mount Shu Sword Immortal, each is just one of your identities while comprehending the Dharma.”
“Well said!” Changkong Zhuoyu nodded vigorously, turning back to the Buddha statue — but his hair was still being tugged and it hurt a little.
He glanced back at the lock of hair clutched in Li Xinglun’s hand, showing rare awkwardness. “Disciple, must I really shave my head?”
The two things Changkong Zhuoyu cared about most were: first, “I am a great figure, and every impressive identity in the cultivation world belongs to me.” Second: “I’m the most beautiful, elegant, and charismatic person in the world.” Clearly, being a Buddhist cultivator clashed with his ideals.
Li Xinglun smiled faintly. “Master looks good no matter what. In red robes you’re like the setting sun, blazing across the heavens; in white robes you’re like the moon, casting soft light through the night; in blue robes you’re like a sturdy pine, standing tall in the cold wind; in black robes you’re like the dark night, mysterious and alluring. With long hair flowing, you’re like an immortal of extraordinary grace. A shaved head…”
Seeing Changkong Zhuoyu’s eyes glisten with tears at the words “shaved head,” Li Xinglun quickly changed his tone: “If Master shaves and dons monastic robes, you’ll be as graceful as a lotus on the lake — untainted by mud, pure yet not ostentatious.”
To make his master smile, Li Xinglun practically emptied out every flattering phrase he had learned in twenty years.
Sure enough, his master smiled — and seeing that smile made Li Xinglun’s heart bloom.
Their gazes locked, entangled, and couldn’t be pried apart.
Li Xinglun stared intently at Changkong Zhuoyu, and after a while, Changkong Zhuoyu stepped back two paces, puzzled. “Strange… Disciple, did you learn some kind of soul-control technique? Why does Master feel, when you look at me, as if my soul becomes unsteady, almost leaving my body? That shouldn’t happen. I’m so powerful, how could your Golden Core stage soul-control affect me?”
Li Xinglun: “…”
He really didn’t know where this relationship would go.
Facing his master’s question, Li Xinglun could only reply, “I don’t know any soul-control technique. And even if I did, I’d never use it on you. I just… just feel genuine devotion to you, Master.”
“Mm.” Changkong Zhuoyu nodded. “I naturally know your loyalty.”
Li Xinglun: “…Let’s focus on investigating this town.”
With Changkong Zhuoyu, he would have to boil the frog in warm water — slowly and patiently. Li Xinglun didn’t expect his master to love him as he loved him, but he did hope his master would one day look at him with a different gaze — with a gaze touched by affection. That would be enough.
Hearing Li Xinglun’s words, Changkong Zhuoyu decided to forget that strange and unmanageable feeling just now, and quickly turned his attention back to the Buddha statue.
“I have a suspicion, but I don’t know if it’s correct.” Changkong Zhuoyu stepped forward and unabashedly touched the lotus pedestal at the base of the statue. “Since the Buddha’s power is boundless, why can’t it even keep its own statue intact?”
Whatever he did, the statue’s face suddenly began peeling like flaking paint, piece by piece falling away until what remained in Changkong Zhuoyu’s hand was a palm-sized jade Buddha.
The moment the jade Buddha appeared, the entire Buddha hall transformed back into the yamen.
“So was the Buddha hall the illusion, or the yamen?” Li Xinglun asked in confusion.
“Both, and neither,” Changkong Zhuoyu said. “If we want to uncover the mystery of this hall and this town, we’ll probably have to wait for the new moon in ten days. Let’s stay here for now and wait for the night of the new moon.”
~ Chapter End ~
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