Flowers bloom in two branches, each taking its course.
While Jiang Liu’er was about to ambush and kill Chief Zhi, his plans were fraught with peril and cunning. Meanwhile, in the distant Western Paradise of the Great Thunder Sound Temple, the buddhas and bodhisattvas all wore expressions of joy.
Numerous buddhas, arhats, vajras, bodhisattvas, and monks gathered in the Thunder Sound Temple that day. They stood in ranks on both sides, numbering in the thousands. Some held dazzling golden canopies, others sat atop wondrous celestial flowers, and still others bathed in the golden light of merit. The Buddha’s radiance blazed, and wondrous signs abounded.
Seated on the Lotus Platform was the Present Buddha, Shakyamuni—the World Honored One.
Commonly referred to as the “World Honored One Tathagata,” his luminous presence outshone even the combined brilliance of the three thousand buddhas, five hundred arhats, eight vajras, and four bodhisattvas.
A poem reads:
Misty radiance veils India,
Rainbow light enshrines the World Honored One.
The West’s foremost, the gate of the Formless Dharma King.
“A World Honored One’s discourse on the Dharma today truly enlightened us all! Elucidating the fundamental principles and expounding the origins with such profound wisdom,” remarked one arhat, moved to the core.
Another buddha chuckled, “It’s been ages since the Tathagata’s teachings have been so harmoniously received. Back when Jinchahanzi dwelled on Vulture Peak, he would contradict every word the Buddha spoke, spouting his own heretical doctrines with such disrespect!”
A third buddha inquired, “Speaking of Jinchahanzi, how many years has he been undergoing karmic trials in his rebirth? When will the World Honored One guide him back to the Thunder Sound Temple?”
“A pity he never returns!” interjected an arhat with a grin. “Imagine the Buddha lecturing, and that Jinchahanzi still nodding off—or worse, arguing with the Tathagata!”
The World Honored One heard their murmurs.
“The Buddha’s decision to send Jinchahanzi into the mortal realm was deliberate,” he explained. “His journey is not merely punishment, but a mission to propagate the Dharma.”
Yet he chose not to reveal further details. Smiling, he added, “In time, you shall all understand the profound purpose of his mortal incarnation.”
The three thousand buddhas and five hundred arhats exchanged glances, murmuring among themselves.
Some of the elder buddhas, however, seemed already privy to the secret. They merely smiled and watched the assembly’s speculation without joining in.
Guanyin spoke up: “World Honored One, since the assembly has mentioned Jinchahanzi’s disrespect toward the Dharma, perhaps this disciple could seek him out and see whether his karmic trials have softened his heart.”
“Excellent!” the Buddha replied. “The Bodhisattva of the Southern Sea may proceed.”
He handed her a mirror. “This mirror, aimed at Jinchahanzi’s mortal form, will reveal all he sees and hears, as if with the eyes of a thousand-mile gaze and ears of the wind itself, to the assembly in the Thunder Sound Temple.”
Accepting the mirror, Guanyin bid farewell to the Buddha and the assembly, then soared into the clouds with her disciple Muzha, departing from the West Jambudvipa toward South Jambudvipa.
Though the journey would take a decade on horseback, for the bodhisattva it was but the time of a tea break.
Guanyin calculated their destination. “Jinchahanzi’s mortal form lies seven hundred miles east. We need not descend—we can observe him from above.”
“Yes, Master,” Muzha agreed.
They arrived above a forest, where they could see a temple below, its rear mountain housing a demon’s lair.
“World Honored One spoke of the four continents’ differing natures,” Guanyin remarked. “The West Jambudvipa is the most virtuous, free from greed and violence. The East follows, then the North. But the South teems with vice.”
“Indeed,” she said, pointing at the demon’s lair. “Would such a den dare nestle beside a temple in the West?”
Muzha nodded.
“Now I see Jinchahanzi,” Guanyin declared. “Let us observe him closely.”
Master and disciple beheld Jinchahanzi’s mortal form.
Even the dense foliage could not obscure their divine sight—or the mirror’s gaze.
Guanyin glimpsed Jiang Liu’er and smiled. “This mortal form of Jinchahanzi has a blessed countenance, clearly fated for the Dharma. His gentle spirit suggests he has repented….”
Her words trailed off.
Guanyin’s expression faltered, as if witnessing the unimaginable. Muzha gaped in disbelief.
Below, Jiang Liu’er clashed fiercely with Chief Zhi.
Bloodied and battered, Chief Zhi’s armor torn, his abdomen pierced by a bamboo spear, he gasped, “What kind of monster is this?”
Jiang Liu’er’s body seemed impervious to harm. Every strike from Zhi’s sword sparked like flint.
The blade itself now bore numerous cracks.
“I must delay until the Demon King arrives!” Zhi gritted through clenched teeth. “Even if I die, I’ll drag this Jiang Liu’er down with me!”
But Jiang’s attacks grew fiercer. With a final strike, Zhi’s sword shattered.
“I’m done for!” Zhi wailed as Jiang’s sword flew toward him.
A swift slash pierced his heart.
Jiang recalled the sword, delivering finishing blows before fleeing with Hu Yuyu.
“Hurry! The wolf demon’s coming!”
After slaying Chief Zhi and several lesser demons, the pair vanished into the distance.
Hu Yuyu cheered, “Master is amazing! Even Chief Zhi couldn’t match you. Shall we kill another tomorrow?”
“With Zhi and the snake chief dead, the Demon’s Gorge will be in chaos,” Jiang said. “The remaining demons will flee. Only the wolf demon, bear chief, and horse chief remain. We’ll need a new plan.”
“As you say, Master,” Hu replied.
Above, Guanyin and Muzha watched the carnage. Muzha held the mirror, relaying the scene to the Thunder Sound Temple.
Silence fell over all—those present and the assembly below.
Guanyin whispered, “Could I have mistaken his identity?”
……
