LFHYB -Chapter 223 Restarting the Confucian-Buddhist-Daoist Debate

Li Xuanba did not immediately respond to Xuanzang but first prepared a pot of plain water with only seasonal flowers as seasoning and invited Xuanzang to a vegetarian hotpot.

During the past six lazy months, Li Xuanba had perfected various bean-based dishes.

Bean curd sheets wrapped in assorted vegetable fillings—Xuanzang couldn’t help but sneak glances at Li Xuanba while enjoying the meal.

Monks are not indifferent to taste; many historical monks were gourmets. Xuanzang was not picky, and delicious food lifted his spirits.

Even more uplifting was the respect Li Xuanba showed him.

Xuanzang had no fame yet.

He was very clever; when he heard Yan Zhen was looking for him, he guessed it might be the Prince of Jin.

Clever people are cautious. Not knowing why the Prince sought him, he decided to treat it coldly. If he traveled for one or two years without returning, the Prince might lose interest.

If, in a year or two, Prince Jin still did not lose interest in him, Xuanzang intended to take a gamble.

Since teaching himself Buddhism, Xuanzang had long harbored the desire to visit the lands where Buddhism flourished. Traveling alone, however, was far too dangerous and could even result in arrest by the authorities. If he could gain the support of powerful figures, his journey westward would be far smoother.

Moreover, to spread the Buddhist teachings he held in his heart, he would need the backing of the influential.

Aside from that, Xuanzang had another idea, unrelated to worldly gain.

The seed of the “Yogācāra” school had already sprouted in his mind.

The Yogācāra school, or “Consciousness-Only” school, originated from the Yoga tradition. While there were other Yogācāra traditions outside the Central Plains, the version that later flourished there was the path Xuanzang summarized after studying various schools, which is why later generations honored him as the founder of the Yogācāra school.

The basic teachings of other Mahayana Buddhist sects held that every person has a Buddha within, and anyone could attain Buddhahood.

For example, the Chan (Zen) school, which would later have great influence, believed that every action contained Zen; practitioners did not necessarily need formal meditation, and ordinary farming could also be a form of practice. The Pure Land school, which spread widely among the common people and had the largest number of practitioners, was especially accessible: all one needed was to sincerely recite “Amitābha,” and one could be reborn in the Pure Land after death.

Although neither Chan nor Pure Land existed yet, the general arguments for spreading Buddhism were similar. Xuanzang felt that this was not quite right.

Attaining Buddhahood is the highest achievement for a disciple of Buddhism. How could it be so easy? Is studying, waging war, or serving as an official easy? Could becoming a Buddha be simpler than becoming an official?

Thus, the “Yogācāra” school Xuanzang created classified living beings into five categories based on innate aptitude, with each category having a different potential. He felt this reflected reality more accurately.

Besides emphasizing great insight, Xuanzang also emphasized great perseverance.

Reciting “Amitābha” and becoming a Buddha? Achieving Buddhahood could not be so casual!

Frankly, if the practice of Buddhism were real, if people could truly cultivate themselves, then Xuanzang’s approach would indeed produce truly “ascended” great beings. If it were a fantasy novel, the Yogācāra school’s doctrine would certainly become the leading Buddhist path.

Unfortunately, ordinary people cannot know whether they will achieve Buddhahood in the next life, so they cannot judge whether Xuanzang’s philosophy is correct. Yet such rigorous conditions for attaining Buddhahood would surely make it harder to proselytize.

Common people believed in Buddhism because it promised that everyone could become a Buddha, even by simply reciting “Amitābha.”

The most influential Chan school and the Pure Land school, with the largest following, did not even advocate donations; they required no tangible sacrifices from followers—just diligent cultivation of the mind was enough.

The Yogācāra school, however, told followers that one needed not only innate aptitude but also great perseverance.

Common people, already oppressed by the court and powerful elites, simply wanted a spiritual haven to catch their breath. They gradually drifted away.

As a result, after Xuanzang passed away, the Yogācāra school declined after only a few generations, leaving only a few talented disciples to continue the lineage.

After finishing the vegetarian hotpot, Li Xuanba had the dishes cleared and replaced with tea, and he gently discussed the future of the Yogācāra school with Xuanzang.

Although Xuanzang was still young, with only the initial sprouts of thought in his mind and far from achieving the unity of knowledge and action, his basic philosophical understanding was already the same as that of his older self.

Xuanzang calmly said, “This humble monk understands. It is difficult for ordinary people to attain Buddhahood; why struggle desperately on a dead-end path? I shall spread the teachings of our school throughout the world so that everyone knows. Those with insight and perseverance may join, while those for whom the path is blocked may find another way, thus not misleading others.”

Li Xuanba’s eyes glimmered. He raised the cup to his lips, silently smiling.

He had forgotten that, for Xuanzang himself, cultivation was real—practicing Buddhism was for the sake of practice itself, not for gathering followers to profit. So the fact that only a handful of disciples would eventually follow the Yogācāra school perfectly aligned with Xuanzang’s original intent.

Later generations lamented that Xuanzang’s theories were too profound, lofty, and detached from ordinary life, which led to the gradual decline of the Yogācāra school, overlooking Xuanzang’s true ideals.

Xuanzang truly was “practicing Buddhism.”

“You speak correctly,” Li Xuanba said, putting down his cup.

Xuanzang looked up, his gaze sharp. “But for Your Highness, this humble monk’s way of practicing Buddhism does not align with Prince Jin’s standards.”

Li Xuanba looked at the monk, radiating his sharpness, and smiled: “Then tell me, how do you think I wish to practice Buddhism?”

Xuanzang replied, “Donating a little incense money, reciting a few ‘Amitābha,’ doing some good deeds— the more one suffers oppression in this life, the easier it will be to attain Buddhahood after death.”

Li Xuanba laughed even more: “You say that, yet you are not afraid I will get angry and find an excuse to lock you up?”

Xuanzang said, “Your Highness’s reputation is known far and wide. Never have you lightly insulted others over verbal disagreements, so this humble monk dares to speak frankly.”

Li Xuanba explored his teacup. “It seems that during your year in Luoyang, you have learned quite a lot about my second brother and me.”

Of course, Li Xuanba would not be narcissistic enough to think that Xuanzang’s candid advice was directed solely at him. Elevated to the level of advising the court’s attitude toward religion, it was clearly intended for his second brother.

Perhaps Xuanzang even thought that his actions were partly under his second brother’s orders, meant to reform the religious order.

Xuanzang pressed his palms together but did not answer Li Xuanba’s question: “Your Highness, those awakened in Buddhism are called ‘Great Virtue.’”

Li Xuanba said, “I know.”

He also knew that highly respected monks were called “Great Virtue,” while the emperor was “Great Sage.” Thus, the seemingly nonsensical records in Tang history about “Great Sage” and “Great Virtue” were actually referring to monks.

Li Xuanba blinked. “The nobles like giving their children Buddhist nicknames; my brother’s was even ‘Great Hero.’”

Xuanzang almost laughed but managed to suppress it: “The Emperor is naturally wise. Perhaps Your Highness truly is a Great Virtue.”

Li Xuanba: “??”

Li Xuanba: “?!!”

Xuanzang said seriously, “Your Highness possesses wisdom, perseverance, and even innate insight, capable of seeing through illusions and pointing out confusion. If Your Highness cultivates Buddhism, even without leaving the secular world, you would surely return to fruition.”

Li Xuanba raised his cup again and drank deeply, slowly savoring it.

Besides being scared by Master Changsun, this was the first time he had been frightened while trying to scare someone else.

Could it be that Xuanzang, after hiding for so long, suddenly decided not to hide—not just to find a powerful patron to sponsor his travels abroad, but also with the intent of persuading someone to practice Buddhism?

Indeed, this was one of Xuanzang’s main goals.

In his heart, the seed of the future “Consciousness-Only School” had sprouted. And in his eyes, who was the most suitable person to become a “Great Virtuous One” of this school?

“Great Virtuous One Li—you!”

Li Xuanba took a deep breath, steadying his emotions.

Good grief, Guanyin once tried to persuade Li Shimin to practice Buddhism, and now it’s Tang Sanzang persuading Li Shimin’s brother.

Journey to the West is artistic creation, and art is born from reality. Could this be the real-life foundation that would later inspire the story of Journey to the West?

He waved his hand: goodbye.

Suppressing his urge to complain, Li Xuanba said, “I will not practice Buddhism. I question all gods and Buddhas under heaven.”

Xuanzang did not persist.

He held respect for those in power and would not pester the most powerful prince of the land today, His Highness the Prince of Jin. Moreover, he was confident that Li Xuanba was indeed a “Great Virtuous One,” so some matters required no words—they would become clear in time.

As for questioning the gods and Buddhas, isn’t the starting point of establishing a new religious lineage precisely to question the gods and Buddhas? How could he hope to become a Buddha if he did not first question the doctrines he encountered?

So it didn’t matter.

Li Xuanba shifted his tone: “I question all gods and Buddhas under heaven, and yet I also believe in all gods and Buddhas under heaven.”

Xuanzang lowered his joined hands, his expression puzzled.

Li Xuanba, seeing the monk’s openness so plainly written on his face, once again marveled that this monk perfectly fit the later reimagined persona of “Tang Sanzang.” Perhaps he would only become more tactful after returning from the Western Journey.

Unfortunately, at this time, monks all referred to themselves as “humble Daoists.” Tang Sanzang would need to call himself “humble monk” to get that Journey to the West flavor.

“Although the Li Tang dynasty venerates my father as ancestor, it will not suppress Buddhism or Confucianism because of this,” Li Xuanba said. “In chaotic times, many people take advantage of Buddhism, Daoism, and Confucianism. Correcting misconceptions is good for true practitioners. Gods and Buddhas do not seek worldly wealth—the worldly only covet wealth. If the people later choose what to believe, you debate among yourselves. I seek you only because you will become the true ‘Great Virtuous One’ who establishes a school.”

Xuanzang asked, “This humble monk has long heard that Your Highness possesses the ability to interpret prophetic texts—it is indeed well-earned fame.”

Li Xuanba waited.

Xuanzang sat quietly.

Li Xuanba waited a moment, blinking. That’s it? Why doesn’t he ask more?

Xuanzang remained silent.

Li Xuanba could no longer restrain himself and asked, “Don’t you want to ask about your own future?”

Xuanzang said, “A practitioner unites knowledge and action. This humble monk will either succeed in the Western Journey and return to Tang to establish his own lineage, or die along the way—there is nothing to ask.”

Now it was Li Xuanba’s turn to fall silent.

After a long pause, he sighed, “Indeed, knowledge and action are unified.”

From then on, Li Xuanba put aside the arrogance of a time-traveling visitor and sincerely sought the young master’s guidance on Buddhist knowledge.

His understanding of religion had been shallow, learned only to amuse customers while running an online store. Even though Xuanzang was not yet twenty, Li Xuanba’s knowledge seemed elementary in comparison.

However, Han Chinese Buddhist sects gradually took shape starting from the Tang dynasty. Buddhism was still in its early phase of localization, and later popular sects like Chan and Pure Land were founded by the Tang. Thus, some of Li Xuanba’s Buddhist theories could still inspire Xuanzang.

Religion is also philosophy.

Buddhism emphasizes debate and logic. In Buddhist lands, losing a debate is no mere concession—changing sects was minor compared to losing a formal debate, which could cost one’s head. Central Chinese Buddhism did not have such harsh consequences but inherited the tradition of valuing argumentation.

A little-known fact: from the Southern and Northern Dynasties to the Yuan dynasty, the imperial court hosted multiple Buddhist-Daoist debates, and Buddhism won every time.

Another little-known fact: Daoism and the philosophical school of Daoism are not the same. Daoism venerates Huang-Lao as its founding master, akin to how the Li Tang dynasty venerates Laozi as an ancestor.

Before the Southern and Northern Dynasties, Daoist texts were either about rebellion (scratch that) or alchemy. The highly argumentative school among the Hundred Schools of Thought was philosophical Daoism. Only after losing debates to Buddhism did Daoism begin to value logical debate and textual revisions.

In later online literature, the story of “Laozi becoming a foreigner” refers to the Western Jin Daoist Wang Fu repeatedly debating and losing to the monk Bo Yuan, writing Laozi Becomes Hu, claiming that if Laozi were a Buddha, he would reconcile with Buddhists.

Buddhists agreed to reconcile. Laozi could be Buddha—but he would still be a disciple of the Buddha.

Laozi Becomes Hu was later expanded by Daoists, evolving into the tenth scroll, Xuan Song of Laozi Becomes Hu, a Northern Wei work.

Buddhists cleverly used this to legitimize Laozi’s divine status within Buddhism, claiming he spread teachings eastward at the Buddha’s behest, thereby using Daoism’s own story to stabilize their position. This is described in detail in the Hongming Collection.

When Li Xuanba discussed the Buddhist-Daoist disputes with Xuanzang, the monk’s eyes were full of disdain, as if Daoists were defeated foes, making Li Xuanba barely able to suppress his laughter.

He finally understood why Xuanzang debated along the Western Journey, leaving Western monks’ heads spinning. This master was truly arrogant.

However, when Li Xuanba mentioned Confucian-Buddhist debates, Xuanzang fell silent, only giving minimal agreement.

Li Xuanba had an even harder time suppressing laughter.

After Daoism was utterly defeated by Buddhism, Confucianism, which had originally ignored the dispute between these minor players, found itself challenged, as Buddhism sought to influence the state.

Confucians were baffled.

“We Confucian disciples emerged from the Hundred Schools, embracing all-encompassing sacred learning. Your Buddhist philosophy is interesting, and I permit you to integrate it into sacred learning. But you are insufficient—now you dare challenge our primacy?!”

So Confucian disciples rolled up their sleeves, while Buddhists, confident, entered the debate.

Confucian disciple: “You Buddhist disciples, leaving home to become monks, fail to observe filial piety!”

The Buddhist monk started rattling off a whole bunch of arguments.

A Confucian disciple exclaimed, “Your Majesty! The Buddhist says that he wants all the people under heaven to stop respecting filial piety!”

The emperor raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

The Buddhist replied, “No! I don’t! I didn’t say that!”

The Confucian disciple pressed on: “You said ‘seeking ancestors in vain leads to no transformation.’ Monks stand above royal authority—that’s ‘disloyalty’!”

The Buddhist then cited scriptures and classic texts, arguing that monks and their disciples transcend the secular world, blah blah blah.

The Confucian disciple shouted again, “Your Majesty! The Buddhist claims their status is higher than yours!”

The emperor’s eyebrows shot up. “Hmm?!”

The Buddhist stammered, “Ah, no, wait!”

And so, through the course of the East Jin and Southern and Northern Dynasties, the mid-Tang to Northern Song era Confucian-Buddhist grand debates, and the “Three Wu Suppressions of Buddhism” by Emperor Taiwu of Northern Wei, Emperor Wu of Northern Zhou, and Emperor Wuzong of Tang, Buddhism eventually became fully “sinicized” by the Song-Yuan period—a religion reduced to kind, peaceful monks and nuns who only knew how to eat vegetarian meals and chant sutras.

Confucian sacred learning absorbed Buddhist philosophy and developed entirely new schools like Neo-Confucianism and the School of Mind.

Everyone rejoiced (hands clasped in prayer).

Although it had only reached its first stage now, Xuanzang was not a foreign monk—he was a native monk. He knew very clearly that Confucianism represented imperial authority, represented the entire secular culture of the East, and represented a Confucianized mask over the various schools of thought that had actually always existed.

It was an unfair advantage—impossible to compete with!

Li Xuanba talked with Xuanzang until the sun had set, then had Yan Zhen escort Xuanzang back to the temple where he was staying.

After Xuanzang left, Li Xuanba got up, picked up his tea, and poured the warm tea leaves under a small tree beside him. “Did you understand our discussion?”

Wang Yun stepped out from the side room. “Your Highness and Master Xuanzang’s discussion of Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism was profound in reasoning yet expressed clearly and simply—I understood it.”

Li Xuanba put the empty cup back on the table and beckoned Wang Yun to walk with him in the courtyard. “And what about your thoughts?”

Wang Yun replied, “The Master’s wisdom and perseverance are both admirable.”

Li Xuanba smiled. “I’m not asking for your opinion of Xuanzang. He is a great master, founder of a school, naturally deserving respect.”

Wang Yun stopped in his tracks.

Li Xuanba paused, turning slightly to look at Wang Yun.

Wang Yun lowered his head, his voice hardening, no longer the slow and measured tone of a Confucian scholar, but sharp and urgent: “Whether Confucianism or Daoism, it seems their starting point has nothing to do with the common people. The noble-minded seek immortality or Buddhahood; the despicable seek fame and wealth through preaching. The people? They are merely means to an end.”

Li Xuanba continued to watch Wang Yun silently.

Wang Yun gasped a few times and added, “As Master Xuanzang said, when the court promotes Buddhism or Daoism, it is only to make the people obediently swallow the suffering of this life.”

Li Xuanba said, “Suffering exists objectively. If the people have a spiritual anchor, that is a good thing.”

Wang Yun suddenly looked up. “That doesn’t sound like something Third Prince would say.”

Li Xuanba waved his hand, inviting Wang Yun to continue pacing with him in the courtyard. “Though it sounds harsh, the logic is sound. Sometimes having something to cling to is better than nothing at all. Reading books is a form of spiritual anchoring, but most people don’t have the opportunity. If Buddhism or Daoism can guide people toward goodness and reduce worldly strife, that is better than a complete void. In the future, if a better faith arises, people will naturally follow it.”

Wang Yun said, “Your Highness, I don’t understand this statement of yours at all.”

Li Xuanba said, “Not understanding is exactly why you are joining this debate. Express your doubts and anger, listen to what other sages and scholars have to say, and only then can you clarify what faith you wish to impart to the people.”

Wang Yun looked downcast. “Do I really have the ability to participate in this debate?”

Li Xuanba chuckled. “Your words alone could sound the death knell of the Sui dynasty—what sage at the debate could match that?”

Wang Yun replied, “Perhaps they just haven’t done it, not that they can’t.”

Li Xuanba said, “The fact that they haven’t done it means they are not as capable as you. Don’t worry—I am here, and I’ve prepared an outline for you in advance. In the coming days, you will need to work hard.”

Wang Yun shook his head. “It’s Your Highness who will be working hard. With your guidance, I will do my best.”

Li Xuanba joked, “Just don’t get flustered and start speaking in your hometown accent.”

Wang Yun finally smiled. “Rest assured, Your Highness, I won’t.”

Li Xuanba laughed. “I was worried Wei Xuancheng might get excited and expose your identity.”

Wang Yun’s smile disappeared. “He wouldn’t try to kill me with a sword, would he?”

Li Xuanba roared with laughter. “He might swing at me instead. But with my brother around, even if he gets angry, there’s nothing he can do.”

Wang Yun sighed. “Earlier, Your Highness said we hid it from Xuancheng because the more people know, the greater the risk of my identity being exposed. But now that Second Prince has ascended, it should be fine to let Xuancheng know in advance, right?”

Li Xuanba said, “At first we hid it because he was still immature and I feared he would reveal your secret. Now he can keep it, but since the timing isn’t critical, we’ll wait a little longer and give him a surprise—it’s just to tease him a bit.”

Wang Yun’s lips moved for a long while, but he swallowed the words he wanted to say.

He decided to quietly climb over the wall to Mr. Wei’s house and let him give him a beating, to prevent Mr. Wei from losing his temper and going after Third Prince, which might get Second Prince to demote or exile him.

Once Li Xuanba arranged his assistants, he had Yan Zhen go find other debaters from the Buddhist, Daoist, and Confucian circles.

These people, merely invited by the high officials of the Prince of Jin’s mansion, were already trembling with fear—who would dare hope that the Prince himself would visit?

Therefore, anyone personally sought out by the Prince of Jin felt the weight of a heavy responsibility.

The anti-Buddhism fighter Fu Yi even gathered his family, determined to gamble his life in this debate against the “bald donkey” monks.

When Li Xuanba learned of this, he hurriedly went in person to persuade him, assuring Fu Yi that he had no intention of destroying Buddhism—he only wished for foreign religions entering Central China to follow its rules.

“Confucian sacred learning is all-encompassing. If Buddhist studies honestly accept guidance from the sacred learning, it can accommodate them. If it can even encompass Legalist thought, how could it not accommodate Buddhism?”

Fu Yi resolutely denied that Confucian sacred learning could encompass Legalist thought, but he did not abandon his idea of gambling his life.

When Li Xuanba left, Fu Yi clasped his hands over Li Xuanba’s, tears streaming down his face. “Your Highness truly is the greatest Confucian of our time! The future of sage learning rests in your hands! You are surely someone destined to found your own school!”

Li Xuanba felt his scalp tingle at the praise.

He would rather face friends who might go all out and duel him with swords over his pranks than face this tearful old man showering him with such extravagant compliments.

Feeling uncomfortable, Li Xuanba decided to make others uncomfortable as well.

After finalizing everything, he finally wrote to his second brother and their father.

“I’ve already built the stage. Second Brother, just watch as Father and I perform!”

Li Yuan and Li Shimin exchanged glances.

At this moment, though outwardly they seemed harmonious, in truth the rift between father and son—already wider than the Yellow River—rarely allowed for such calm before the storm.

“Dade… Daxiong usually acts on his own like this?!”

“A-Xuan is just like this. He’s always like this!”

“How can you allow him to be so unruly?!”

“I’ve done my best to hit him whenever he misbehaves! I’ve beaten him since he was little and still couldn’t correct him!”

“Ah? Your brother is so weak—how could you hit him?! A word would suffice; how could you lay a hand on him?!”

“I’ve been careful about how hard I hit…”

“No wonder Dade acts so willfully—it’s all because you spoiled him.”

“Huh?!”

Li Yuan let out a long sigh and slapped his thigh. “Why argue! Temples occupy fertile land yet pay no taxes, monks abandon their parents yet shirk service! The temples should all be torn down!”

Li Shimin was taken aback and hurriedly advised, “Father, that’s too extreme. Buddhism and Daoism both have their place.”

Li Yuan ignored Li Shimin. His body, already trembling with age, suddenly moved with surprising vigor as he swung his sleeves and strode to the study to peruse long-neglected classics.

Li Shimin was silent for a long while, then sighed deeply.

Changsun Kangning gently patted Li Shimin’s arm. “Young master, Third Brother is truly filial.”

Li Shimin responded with a hum, his voice muffled, “I’ve said it before: he is the softest toward family, though he will never admit it himself.”

Changsun Kangning said, “With you watching over him, Third Brother will never be bullied.”

Li Shimin nodded.

Then he held his forehead again and sighed. “Guanyin, you were right—A-Xuan really did turn a surprise into a shock.”

Changsun Kangning laughed, a tinkling sound of schadenfreude.