CDJMM – Volume 3 – Chapter 13 Compassion of the Buddha (13)

“Dogs can’t go in?”

Le Jing asked, expression unreadable, “And why can’t a dog enter?”

The sword-bearing man answered succinctly, “Rules.”

Le Jing blinked, his gaze turning cold as a knife, smile just as sharp. “Whose rules?”

The sword-bearing man stared back. “They’re the rules of our Linqing Sect.”

“So these rules say only humans can enter the immortal gates?”

The sword-bearing man lifted his chin arrogantly. “Of course.”

“So even if this dog passes the trial, just because he’s a dog he can’t join a sect?”

The sword-bearing man replied as if it were obvious, “What else? Let a beast cultivate the Dao?”

Le Jing nodded slightly. “I understand.”

The boy lowered his eyes, clicked his tongue, and his lips curved downwards in subtle disappointment. “So the Linqing Sect is only this much.”

The sword-bearing man froze, wondering if he heard correctly. “What did you say?”

Le Jing folded his arms and sighed expressionlessly. “I’m very disappointed.”

He raised his head and looked at the sword-bearing man with mocking superiority. “If a mortal said this, it would be understandable. But a great immortal sect having such narrow-minded, prejudiced rules… unexpected.”

The sword-bearing man scoffed. “For someone your age, you speak with quite the tone.”

He shot Le Jing a sidelong glance. “Go look around. Which sect accepts beasts as disciples? Humans are the spirit of all creation, blessed by the Heavenly Dao. Beasts have no wisdom—what Dao are they supposed to cultivate?”

This was the view of many disciples watching through the cloud mirror as well.

Even though the sword-bearing man couldn’t hear them, comments rang out:

“Exactly.”

“They’re unrefined beasts—how could they cultivate?”

“If it’s not even a demon, just a normal dog, spare its life and chase it off.”

“Hahaha, it’s only because this mundane dog has no awareness of fear that it could walk down the cloud steps. Letting something like that join a sect would be a joke.”

Others added:

“This kid has talent, but his temperament is terrible—far too arrogant.”

“He already looks down on the Linqing Sect before even becoming a disciple. After he joins, will he despise the whole cultivation world?”

“Whichever sect accepts him is truly cursed for eight lifetimes!”

The surrounding disciples all gossiped endlessly, but Mei Yingliang remained silent.

Not only him—those seated in the front, the true powerhouses, were silent as well.

He stared at the cloud mirror—just in time to see the boy suddenly laugh.

The boy’s laughter was bright and open, yet his eyes were as cold as spring water. The contrast made Mei Yingliang’s scalp prickle.

The sword-bearing man snapped, “What are you laughing at?”

The boy stopped laughing and asked politely, “May I ask you a question?”

“In Daoist sects, are there many people who think like you?”

The sword-bearing man was stunned for a moment, but answered proudly, “Anyone with common sense thinks this way.”

Le Jing nodded lightly, chuckled, and murmured, “Common sense… how boring.”

He then asked, “Do you know why I laughed?”

“Why?”

A flash of mockery crossed the boy’s eyes. “Because your way of thinking is far too arrogant.”

The sword-bearing man rolled his eyes. “If anyone’s arrogant, it’s you! Passing the cloud steps and suddenly speaking nonsense! The test isn’t even over—you might not be able to cultivate at all! Who do you think you are?!”

Le Jing raised a brow, his gaze vast and clear, like sky meeting ocean—calm after seeing all the world’s waves. “You believe humans are blessed by the Heavenly Dao and are the spirit of all beings. Isn’t that thought itself arrogant?”

He tilted his head and asked seriously:

“Heaven and earth are impartial; they treat all beings as straw dogs.
Heaven has no emotions and shows no favoritism. Humans, animals, flowers, and trees—there is no difference in the eyes of the Heavenly Dao. You call humans the spirit of creation—did you ask Heaven’s opinion first?”

The moment he said this, a hush fell around Mei Yingliang. The disciples who had cursed earlier now looked like they had swallowed flies.

“What nonsense is that?!”

“We humans are the favored of the Heavenly Dao, blessed with fortune—this cannot be denied!”

“If Heaven didn’t love us, why would humans flourish while the demon race declines?”

Master Huiwu heard the whispered complaints behind him and sighed inwardly.

How quickly these little brats forgot the former glory of the demon race.

He closed his eyes, as if seeing again the roaring flames of that year—the fire that burned for days, turning Da Xiangguo Temple into ashes stored in archives.

Whether Daoist or Buddhist, the newer generation had become far too arrogant.

Outside the immortal gate—

The sword-bearing man’s eyes widened as if his intelligence had been insulted. “Utter nonsense! Plants are emotionless, animals are dim-witted, demons are savage and cruel. Only humans receive Heaven’s grace, producing geniuses endlessly. Isn’t that proof of Heaven’s favor?”

If this were Earth, such words might slide—flowers and animals wouldn’t stand up to argue. At most the Earth might get annoyed someday and wipe out the humans with disasters before starting evolution anew. The Earth never needs humans; humans “protecting” Earth is only for their own sake.

But this was the cultivation world. Here, the sword-bearing man’s words were laughable.

Humans have their Dao.

Mice have theirs.

All beings can cultivate.

All creatures under frost compete freely.

This was the cultivation world Le Jing yearned for.

If everyone here was as narrow and ignorant as the sword-bearing man, Le Jing would truly be disappointed.

Disappointed enough to destroy everything and rebuild the rules from scratch.

“Listen to yourself—does that sound like human speech?” The big wolfdog, who had been lying obediently at Le Jing’s feet and forgotten by everyone, rolled his eyes. His jaws opened—and a crisp teenage voice came out: “Say that again in front of your Sect Master. If he doesn’t slap you stupid, I’ll take your surname!”

Le Jing: …?!

Sword-bearing man: “??!! You’re a demon?!”

Su Jian, who had just walked over: “???!”

The big wolfdog squinted smugly, like a husky making a mocking face. “Hahahahaha, didn’t expect that, you country bumpkin dumbass? Not only am I a demon—I’m gonna cultivate too! Surprised? Shocked?”

The sword-bearing man tightened his grip on his sword, its blade glowing fiercely. He stared warily. “I didn’t sense any demon aura from you. What’s your purpose sneaking into our sect? Speak!”

“Enough, Zhong Yu. Stop messing around.”

The zither-playing man sighed softly and nodded apologetically at Le Jing and the wolfdog. “Forgive him. My junior brother entered the sect late and lacks experience.”

The sword-bearing man froze, staring at him. “Senior brother?”

The zither player’s face was cold as he said, “Only because the Demon Emperor disappeared and the demon race quieted down have people like you grown arrogant and forget your place. In earlier years, no one dared claim humans were favored by Heaven. In truth, we cultivators are the ones Heaven detests.”

The sword-bearing man was dumbfounded. “D-detests? Senior brother, what do you mean?”

Le Jing clicked his tongue. Of course Heaven detests them. Why else would lightning try to strike you down every time you advance? Cultivation is going against Heaven. The longer a cultivator lives, the more resources they consume—of course Heaven finds them bothersome.

The zither player glanced at him but didn’t bother answering. Instead, he turned to Le Jing and said sincerely:

“To be honest, our Linqing Sect has no written rule forbidding demon cultivators. It’s just that after the war between humans and demons a century ago, demon cultivators became rare. With time, not accepting them became an unspoken rule. If this dog brother wishes to join the sect, our Sect Master must approve—we cannot decide.”

Le Jing nodded with a faint smile. “So dogs can enter, then?”

The zither player hesitated, then nodded. “They may enter. Whether they can stay depends on the Sect Masters’ decision.”

Le Jing lowered his gaze at the wolfdog. The wolfdog, guilty, looked everywhere except at him.

Le Jing raised a brow. Arms folded. Smiling but not smiling. “So—you can speak?”

The wolfdog glanced at him timidly, then tried to shove his head into the ground. He whimpered, “Not really… it’s just, uh, I suddenly regained some memories, and then suddenly I could talk…”

“So your name?”

“Ah?”

The wolfdog blinked blankly, then blurted, “I—I don’t know…”

Then inspiration struck—he turned to Le Jing, wagging his tail wildly. “Why don’t you give me one!”

Le Jing stared at him for a long moment, expression unreadable. Under that gaze, the wolfdog trembled, broke into a nervous sweat, and his face became pitifully flattering—astonishingly expressive for a dog.

“Your fur is gray and black—how about Kunhuo?”

The wolfdog asked cautiously, “…Is there a story behind it?”

Le Jing replied casually, “In the Yi Jing, Kun corresponds to black. The dictionary says fire leaves behind ash—灰. Put together you get Fire Kun, but I think Kunhuo sounds smoother.”

Kunhuo nodded happily. “Then I’ll be Kunhuo. Great name!”

Su Jian’s mouth twitched. Wake up, that name is obviously perfunctory…

…

“So… should we keep him?” Linqing Sect Master, Bai Yuan Zhenren, stroked his neatly styled three-point beard and consulted the other sect leaders.

Lady Xiu Wan of Shuixiu Pavilion sighed. “That child and the dog demon are close. If we reject the dog, he definitely won’t agree.”

The Purple Cloud Sword Sect’s Master Xuan Ling was blunt: “I say accept him. Demon cultivators are rare but not unheard of. If he has malicious intent, we can kill him later.”

They all discussed openly, as if Le Jing joining a sect was already guaranteed.

Master Huiwu stepped forward. “Amitabha. Fellow Daoists, may this poor monk speak?”

Bai Yuan Zhenren blinked. “Oh, Master Huiwu of the Pure Land Sect. Please go ahead.”

Master Huiwu looked righteous. “That young boy’s words align with many Buddhist principles. Perhaps he is fated with Buddha and will enter our fold.”

Bai Yuan Zhenren snorted. “Master, you must be joking.” He immediately exchanged looks with the other sect leaders.

Bai Yuan Zhenren’s eyes said clearly:

Brothers, weapons out. The baldies are trying to steal our disciple—

get them!