Chapter Seventy: Spreading the Dharma

The autumn rain had been falling relentlessly for three days, showing no sign of easing. The entire city of Jiangzhou was drenched into a mire, and anyone walking the streets would easily be splattered with mud halfway up their body.

Yet, amid such dreadful weather, a procession of monks entered Jiangzhou through the rain. They had come under imperial decree to preside over the Grand Dharma Assembly, accompanied by a hundred guards clad in black uniforms.

These Black-Clad Guards were an elite force directly commanded by the emperor, endowed with the power of life and death. Each was fierce and imposing; wherever they passed, even children dared not cry.

On that day, Chen Jianchen stood deliberately at the roadside to watch, witnessing the solemn Black-Clad Guards riding uniformly black cloud-stepping steeds, entering through the eastern city gate.

They were all broad-shouldered, robust, and rugged-looking. Aside from their distinctive attire, the unsheathed, flat-headed demon-slaying swords at their waists gleamed menacingly, unsettling all who saw them.

These demon-slaying swords were three feet long and four fingers wide, forged from the finest split-car steel. Each could slice through iron as if it were clay, cleave a thousand heads without dulling, truly first-rate blades.

Every Black-Clad Guard's sword had drunk deeply of human blood.

—The Tian Tong Dynasty claimed unity over the world, though the term "world" itself was debatable, bearing a tone of "supremacy of the self."

According to Chen Jianchen, there were other nations surrounding the Tian Tong Dynasty. To the north was the Mong Yuan Kingdom, a nomadic empire; to the west, the Du Yin Kingdom—both vast in territory and formidable in strength.

Additionally, to the south across the sea lay an island nation called Luosha. Though merely a small isle, it arrogantly styled itself as the "Great Luosha Kingdom."

Their customs were peculiar, valuing ugliness as beauty. All had strange appearances, and the criteria for selecting officials was based not on knowledge or literary merit, but on looks—the uglier, the higher the position, a typical "judging by appearance" system.

Merchants who went there for business once met the Luosha Prime Minister, whose ears grew backward, with three nostrils and eyelids like curtains—features so chaotic it seemed he’d been born in the wrong form, uglier than a ghost. Yet, in Luosha, such a visage was considered beautiful, while visitors from Tian Tong were so frightened by the sight they would flee like encountering monsters.

Thus, people from Tian Tong traveling there for trade would smear their faces with charcoal, let their hair down, and disguise themselves as fierce figures to conduct business smoothly.

That there were foreign nations was natural, and border skirmishes occurred from time to time, but these were limited in scope, mostly for military training, and rarely affected the heartland.

For the common people of the Central Plains, only the Tian Tong Dynasty mattered. Few ever had the chance to travel abroad; foreign lands were distant, with no conflicting interests, so their existence or absence was of little consequence.

Chen Jianchen, since crossing into this world, had paid close attention to its background and structure, gathering much information. He heard that the monks invited to celebrate the Empress Dowager’s birthday were eminent ones from Du Yin, a contingent of five hundred, each deeply versed in Buddhist doctrine.

The roots of Buddhism in the Tian Tong Dynasty traced back to Du Yin. Yet the dynasty revered Confucianism, with generations of rulers diligent in governance, never welcoming Buddhism and often suppressing it in large-scale purges, causing its influence to wane, nearly eradicating it.

But things changed when Emperor Zhengming ascended the throne. The young emperor’s mind seemed different; he reversed his predecessors’ stance, and, seizing the opportunity of the Empress Dowager’s birthday, dispatched envoys to Du Yin to invite monks and seek Buddhist scriptures, planning to hold Dharma Assemblies across every province, immediately stirring up great momentum.

The winds were shifting, like the east wind turning west with the passing of seasons. Qingyun, Guanghan, and Yan Chixia all hurried to the capital, intent on observing the change and perhaps contending and comparing their skills.

The Black-Clad Guards escorted the monks into Jiangzhou, lodging them not in inns or the county office—both beneath their status—but in the grand Wu family mansion.

This was an exceptional honor; even Wu Wencai, of noble birth, felt proud and hastily ordered his servants to sprinkle water and sweep away dust, tidying the guest rooms and preparing everything meticulously to welcome the Dharma contingent.

The arrival of the imperial Dharma team broke the tranquility of Jiangzhou, sparking heated discussion; their presence also disrupted Chen Jianchen’s plans, stripping him of any chance to carry them out.

Life is always full of surprises...

Chen Jianchen watched the ceremonial procession march grandly into the Wu family estate, a faint smile of resignation on his lips. He realized that since entering Jiangzhou as a student, troubles had multiplied, as if ropes were tightening around him, and he could no longer live as freely as he had in Jingyang Village.

Perhaps he still lacked much experience; after all, the world was different and demanded further adaptation.

...

The Jiangzhou prefecture lay in the heart of the city, a place of great prominence. Yet, compared to its splendid architecture, Nie Zhiyuan’s mood was bleak.

“Father, why are you here?”

Nie Xiaoqian wore a fitted gauze dress, standing gracefully, radiating a dignified charm.

Nie Zhiyuan turned to look at his beloved daughter and suddenly said, “Qian’er, we must leave.”

Nie Xiaoqian trembled, “Where are we going?”

Nie Zhiyuan gazed into the distance, speaking calmly, “With each new emperor comes new ministers. The monarch ultimately did not heed my advice. The monks have arrived, and Commander Zhou of the Black-Clad Guards brought a secret decree. From today, I am dismissed as prefect of Jiangzhou and transferred to Zhejiang, appointed as magistrate of Jinhua County.”

Nie Xiaoqian bit her lip until nearly bleeding; her father’s demotion from prefect to magistrate was a precipitous fall, a tumble so great that he might never recover.

She looked at her father and noticed that his hair at the temples had turned white, and his once upright back now bent slightly—

Nie Xiaoqian understood better than anyone. Though their family and the Wu family were old friends, since the new emperor’s ascension, differences in political views had gradually estranged them. This was why Nie Zhiyuan had never committed to marrying her to Wu Wencai; he was a man of principle, diligent and upright as prefect, incorruptible and beloved by the people. At the same time, he staunchly opposed the westward spread of Buddhism.

But in the current climate, his stance was undoubtedly unpopular and out of step, opposing the emperor’s will. His demotion was inevitable—the machinations of the court, swirling clouds and overturning rain, could change in a heartbeat. The dangers far exceeded imagination.

“Father, when do we leave?”

Nie Zhiyuan showed a gentle smile, “Tomorrow. So, if you wish to say your farewells, you still have time!”

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