In the northwest of Yangzhou and southeast of Zhongzhou, there is a small temple on a barren mountain on the border of the two states. It is broken and ruined, and even the temple gate has collapsed. Most of the temple gates have collapsed. On the door beam that can barely be upright, a plaque is hung crookedly, with the words "Lan Ruo" vaguely on it, but the handwriting behind it is really blurred and you can't see what is written.

This mountain and this temple are usually hidden in the void, no one can see it, let alone visit it. In the world, the location of this mountain is a military camp established in the early years of Daxia, with an army stationed by the Daxia Dynasty.

This army is led by the royal family and is rotated half every ten years. Every time it is rotated, countless masters will be sent to take charge, be nervous and careful, as if facing a great enemy.

But over the years, there has been no movement in the mountains or temples. After a thousand years, the Great Xia Dynasty became more and more prosperous and the temples became more and more dilapidated. Even the royal generals in charge of this military camp became more and more careless.

There is a small yard in the temple, with a vegetable field and a pond. There are a few lotus flowers floating in the pond, which cannot bloom half-open; there are a few fish under the lotus, which are lazy and do not swim; there are a few ordinary vegetables and vegetables planted in the vegetable field, which do not seem to grow vigorously, but they are not withered.

Between the vegetable field and the pond, an old monk wearing a shabby monk's robe was sitting idle. He smiled and looked at the lotus flowers, with a peaceful and joyful expression, as if he had endless fun just looking at these lotus flowers.

Suddenly, his brow moved, showed doubt, and turned to look southwest.

"Strange, the disaster has not yet arrived, how can a person with great merit be born?"

He muttered in surprise, then smiled again.

"Anyway, it's a good thing."

He also said: "The old monk lost his bet with Zhao Sheng in the past, so he had to sit here and not interfere in the affairs of the world. It's just..."

In the void, a young man vaguely heard the voice of "repaying the four kinds of kindness and relieving the sufferings of the three paths".

"Someone recites the old monk's verse, but it has nothing to do with the old monk."

The old monk spread his palms, and circles of light appeared in his palms, but the light was dim, as if it was about to be extinguished at any time.

He did not throw this dim wheel of light, but something was pulled in the voice of the words.

"Making a vow to save people is Bodhicitta. Good, good!"

In the void, barren mountains and ruins appeared and disappeared as soon as they appeared, as if nothing had happened.

Pan Long opened his eyes and felt calm. His previous impatience and insecurity disappeared, just like he woke up from a good dream while sleeping, and was healthy. He also seemed to have read some idle books in his home study in Dingfeng Town, and was about to have dinner. He was in a stable mood and no displeasure at all.

He raised his hand and the crows in the painting were neat and energetic. He knew he was in good condition at a glance.

He raised his head and found that the dark clouds in the sky had not yet dissipated, but there was no longer a sharp murderous intent or a strong sense of danger above the dark clouds. Instead, there was a sense of peace and tranquility, which faintly fell from the sky, making people feel particularly comfortable.

"It seems that I probably found the correct usage of merit?"

He smiled and closed his eyes again, but he saw that the green and yellow energy in the fragments of the mountain and sea meridians did not decrease, but instead seemed to be more active. It was circulating at this moment, vaguely carrying a natural charm of the rotation of the sun and the moon, and the alternating day and night.

So he simply found a stone and sat down, looking up at the sky.

After a while, the dark clouds dissipated, and the clear blue sky was shining brightly, and there was no trace of the war between the demon gods.

"Thank you." A voice suddenly sounded next to him. He turned to look, but saw Bi Lingkong regaining his previous essay dress, holding a painting box in his hand, looking like the calm painter when he first met.

Pan Long shook his head and stood up.

"I don't dare to take it. Actually, I don't even understand what's going on."

Bi Lingkong smiled and said, "It doesn't matter whether you understand it or not. Since you have already used such magical powers, you will naturally have some enlightenment soon."

Her eyes were full of praise and said, "Everyone in the world knows what happened today. From then on, you will become famous."

Pan Long was shocked and asked, "Everyone knows it's me?"

Seeing that his expression was wrong, Bi Lingkong asked in confusion: "Don't you want to? With great merits and great supernatural powers, the Buddhists must regard you as their future Buddhist son. Is there anything wrong with this?"

"What if I don't want to be known to everyone?" Pan Long asked.

Bi Lingkong hesitated for a moment and said, "I don't want everyone to know, of course it's okay. As long as I don't say it, no one knows it-what you just used is the famous supernatural power of Amitabha Buddha, "The Thousands of Lotus Flowers of Infinite Light and Life". This supernatural power is based on merit, and it develops the Bodhicitta and saves suffering. It is known as a thought of Bodhicitta, which can save all sentient beings in the six realms and eight destinies in distress."

"This supernatural power can only be used by Amitabha in this world. If you and I don't tell me, then everyone will only think that Amitabha is casting a magic weapon for me."

Only then did Pan Long feel relieved and smiled with relief.

"Since that's the case, it's just the credit of Amitabha."

Bi Lingkong frowned: "Amitabha is not the kind of person who falsely takes credit for merit."

"Then please ask him to help me, right?" Pan Long said, "It's always a good thing. He won't help but refuse to help?"

Bi Lingkong thought for a while and laughed.

"Amitabha Zun and the Daxia Dynasty have a great conflict. If he can do me a favor, he will be willing. Please wait a moment, and I will go and ask him for confession."

As she said that, her figure suddenly disappeared.

A moment later, she appeared on the barren mountain in the void and walked straight to the front of the ruined temple.

"Old monk, thank you." She bowed to the temple, "When you get out of trouble, I will pick a thousand kinds of dew from flowers to bathe and wash you."

In the dilapidated temple, the laughter of the old monk came.

Bi Lingkong turned around and left without any nostalgia.

After a while, a very mighty general wearing golden armor walked to the front of the ruined temple.

"Amitabha, you actually have the means to crack down on the suppression. You are indeed the Great Saint of Buddhism!"

The old monk in the temple whispered: "Why should the donor be angry? Isn't the old monk still here?"

"Hmph! Don't think you can be proud of yourself if you can crack some suppression! I will tell you now, and ask the gods to strengthen the seal! You are bald, you actually slander Daxia, just wait for suppression to last forever!"

After the general said that, he turned around and left. In the dilapidated temple, the old monk shook his head gently.
Chapter completed!