The Fourth Wall - Chapter 10 preview

The monastery was located in a mountain, high above and far away from the world around it. There was no convenient river that fed to the foothills, forcing the trio to ride their horses for a day before they came to it. Even the trip upwards took time for they had to leave their houses in a stable at the bottom of the passage, among the small village that had formed below to feed and care for the monastery itself.

It amused Wu Ying, a little, to see the village. Most monasteries and many sects located themselves far from humanity. They did so in an attempt to find peace, to isolate themselves from the hustle and bustle of civilization and the politics of other sects and governments. Individuals who gained power, who'd reached Nascent Soul level might find themselves petitioned by others for their strength, for their teachings. Journeying to places far from humanity removed much of the easy temptation, only bringing those who were truly committed to the ideals of the hermit cultivators and cultivation practice itself. 

Monasteries and their abbots did the same, though for other reasons. Sometimes, for nothing more complicated than the need for wide spaces that were not, otherwise owned or taken by the local nobles. After all, most Buddhist monasteries required little beyond a building, some small plot of land for farming and peace and quiet to contemplate the scripture. It was humanity that came to them, asking for prayers for the departed, for good wishes and blessings and the occasional line of empowered prayers and prayer beads.

It was the common folk who would find or build places below or close by to these sects and monasteries that had isolated themselves, carve out roads and paths for travelers and merchants, break ground to till new fields and dig wells and aqueducts. After all, under the sheltering eye of these sects or monasteries, they could prosper. In this way, amusingly, civilization grew; spreading outwards from cities into the hinterlands.

Defeating the purpose of these sects and monasteries to isolate themselves, to find the Dao or contemplate scriptures. To pull away from the constant battle of human needs, and their demands.

"Now remember, the Abbot Song has agreed to speak with you, Ah Ying. They accept all applicants, but whether they'll let you use the Pool of Clarifying Thoughts and Pathways is entirely up to him. Because it is such a precious resource, there are always applicants to come in."

"And there's payments," Wu Ying said, grimacing. "I know. It's why I've been gathering what I can."

"That's the least of it," Tou He said with a sigh. "If you think of this as a merchant transaction, you'll fail. They are looking for those who will better the world, who are more in line with the scriptures and the way. They certainly do not want to put more pain and suffering into the world."

"Nor do I. Do you think that little of me?" Wu Ying said.

"Of course not. If I didn't think you had a chance, I would never have recommended this path at all."

"And what if they turn him down?" Yang Mu asked. She was behind the pair, picking her way carefully on the narrow roadway. It amused Wu Ying a little, to be walking up a steep cliff once more. He almost wished there were rice bags to carry. Perhaps there had been, he hadn't asked.

"We can still ask for their advice," Tou He said. "There's great wisdom and insight among them, and they see things differently than cultivators do."

"Because they're not cultivators," Yang Mu said, eyes narrowed in thought.

"Not in the traditional sense, though they achieve immortality and enlightenment in their own way."

She made a noise of acknowledgment and for a time, the group traversed the road upwards in silence. It said something about the monastery that even cultivators of strength and ability like Yang Mu and Tou He were not allowed to ascend via flying, instead forced to walk upwards. An enforced level of humility, though the presence of the occasional palanquin at the bottom of the tiny village under shade indicated that not all chose to accept the restriction in the spirit of its enforcement.

Cautiously, Wu Ying touched the air and environment around him with his spiritual aura. Cautious because it was still strained, his control and spirit itself still healing; but also because of the oppressive air that filled the surroundings. Like a stern parent staring at the children around them, enforcing discipline and promising punishment if they were to misbehave.

The interaction between cultivators on the path of immortality via understanding the Dao and Buddhism and their attainment of Nirvana was a matter of great contention Wu Ying knew. The problem, of course, was the degree of separation in the philosophies involved, especially when one took into account the more violent daos espoused by certain immortals. Even the dao of the sword, by itself, could be seen as in direct conflict with the principles of those in the monastery.

The way that many cultivators saw Buddhism and the path taken by the monks was that of just another dao path, another way to be traversed to immortality. No stronger or better or different than their own, though with fewer uses of pills and less of a focus on the empowerment of chi and refinement of the soul. Instead, they refined the mortal soul directly and among certain monasteries, the body too.

Other cultivators felt that the Middle Way was not a cultivation path at all, but another route to the Dao. A greater path to achieving understanding of the world and existence itself, that bypassed the needs for immortality. Those who became buddhas then were not immortals, but something more powerful. Something greater.

There were, of course, other theories but one thing was clear. 

The monks had power, as evidenced by the heaviness in the air, the foreboding that sent Wu Ying's own soul quailing rather than test their ban on flying. They might not, for the most part, take part in the local politics or the jianghu; but they were a force to be reckoned with when they acted.

And perhaps, as Tou He had suggested, they might have insight for Wu Ying himself. 

***

They were settled into rooms within the monastery itself upon their arrival, shown the way by a young monk clad in orange robes. They had recognized Tou He, offering him deep bows of recognition and fellowship and were just as polite to the two cultivators. However, they were informed in firm tones, that the Abbott was currently busy and would see them when he could.

Their accommodations were small and mean, the pair of male cultivators bunked together while Yang Mu was guided away to stay with others of her sex. There had been no questions about their relationship, no indication that even if they had been married, exceptions might have been made. It seemed that the seperation of sexes was iron clad and not open to discussion, though none of them had chosen to test their host on this matter.

Instead, the pair of cultivators slung their bags onto the simple cots in their bed, there being barely enough space for more than the pair of beds inside the room. A small wardrobe for each of them lay at the opposite end of the room, with a tiny stone window at the end of the room the only other feature of their residence.

It was an ascetic way of living, and one that Tou He regarded with nostalgia.

Wu Ying on the other hand prodded at the mattress that covered the cot, grimaced and extracted his own bedroll to add to the cushioning. He considered, briefly, resting in the sparse accommodations without adding to it; but chose not to. If this was a test, he would rather fail it honestly than deceive them in an attempt to seem more of ascetic than he was.

"I can see why you left the monastery," Wu Ying said, sitting down on the adjusted bed and facing his friend, crossing his legs beneath him. "Not much in terms of creature comforts. We had more, as a farmer."

"Most of what we receive in temples are donated to us. Money, whatever there is, is used for the basic needs. We're trained to accept and ignore the physical needs of the body," Tou He mimicked his friend as he took a seat. "That was what we were told, as children." He hesitated, then added. "I wonder now, as an adult and more worldly, if we did without because there was never enough to go around. Most temples, we generate our income from prayer from true believes, for births and death rites. But the number of true believers, or those willing to pay..." He shrugged. "It was never that high."

"Perhaps," Wu Ying said. "I cannot say that it was ever a path that I was drawn to, even if there were the occasional monk that came by to offer prayers on a pilgrimage. Most of those in our village had little faith, in Buddha or the heavens above. Or perhaps, faith is not the right term. For they are known, present - but... no more of a concern than the sun or the stars. Existences that exist so far above us, that they have no relevance to our daily lives."

"It's much the same, the kingdoms over it seems." Tou He smiled a little. "Even in the south where we journeyed, the faith is known but the adherents - the true faithful are few. My old master used to say that everyone comes to it in their own time, in this life or the ones after. There was never a need to push, for the cycle would continue."

"And you never had a choice."

"Well, my presence here and now makes that a lie, no?" Tou He said, wryly. "But, studying it as  child, I didn't. Being left at the monastery young because my parents could feed me..." He shrugged. "It's a common enough thing."

And why certain monasteries preferred to be away. They could not turn away such children, not in good conscience, but neither did they have the resources to care for the multitudes. Easier to just make it harder for those who might take such a way out to not be present. Though, perhaps, that was the cynical part in Wu Ying, applying such selfish behavior to the monasteries.

"So how long do you think they'll make us wait?"

"How long do you think they'll make us wait?" he asked, sensing that his friend would prefer if they changed the topic. He knew a little of his friend's past, how he had looked for his parents once, when he was older. Only to find them long dead from illness made worst by starvation not long after his own sending off. A not uncommon story, for cultivation - even the low levels most mortals achieved - could do little to stave off actual hunger. Still a tragedy, of course.

"As long as necessary." Tou He glanced around the room, eyed Wu Ying and then stood. "You should rest."

Wu Ying frowned, moved to stand and join his friend. "And where are you going?"

"To pray." 

"Oh." He let himself drop back onto his bed. It was rather comfortable, if you looked at it in a certain light. Certainly his legs and chest were still aching a little, exhaustion from the climb, from his still recuperating body; that never ending ache. 

"Rest." His friend repeated again, making a small motion of his hand as though he was pushing him down. Wu Ying would disagree, but he was tired, and well...

"Yes. Go. I'll just, close my eyes, for a little." Lying down, Wu Ying adjusted the small wooden block that was the pillow, feeling a wave of exhaustion rise up.

By the time Tou He was at the door, he was asleep