Cultivation: Being Immortal Chapter 812

Year 7725 of the Xia Calendar, Qingyun

Four years had passed in a flash since Chengzang arrived in Qingyun. Although he stayed one year in Huaxia, his cover there wasn't solid enough amid the tight regulations, so he settled on Qingyun in the end.

Chengzang had started disseminating the doctrines in Qingyun, yet progress proved extremely challenging. Buddhist logic revolves around cultivation for the afterlife, explaining current sufferings as karma from past misdeeds, thus urging good deeds now for bliss in the next existence.

Few embraced this reasoning, though. The Alliance of Three Countries' society, shaped by millennia under capitalist systems, breeds intense internal stresses. Qingyun has endured fierce rivalries, leading to exhaustion, surrender, or escalated struggles afterward.

Individuals trapped in relentless competition ignore the afterlife; surviving this existence is hardship enough—why fret over what follows?

Truth be told, many reject even humanity in rebirth. Without animal protections, they'd prefer becoming pampered beasts, lounging idly till death.

Yet the most ambition-driven cling to hopes in their present lives, scorning next-life joys as pointless delays. Why postpone happiness when it could be seized now? If impossible, what's the grind for?

Enduring repeated failures in propagation left Chengzang in deep agony, as he grasped that unaltered Buddhist teachings wouldn't take root here—and modifying sacred texts lay beyond a mere arhat like him.

Though torn with doubt, Chengzang refused to tamper with scriptures, deeming it blasphemy. Far from rigid, however, he opted instead for compelled direction.

Armed with this foothold, Chengzang launched his grand propagation campaign, steadily drawing in converts—including genuine devotees. History always boasts its share of the gullible, after all.

"The morning recitation concludes. You may all leave now."

Within a villa in a modest town, Chengzang addressed dozens of core followers thusly. Some had been coerced into faith, requiring daily scripture chants at dawn and dusk under watch to solidify belief—soon to become habit.

"Master."

Once the group scattered, Chengzang headed straight to the patriarch's study, where the man prostrated himself reverently.

"Patriarch Shuhe, what matter troubles you?"

"Master, I have two matters to consult you on today."

"Speak freely."

"First concerns the Shu family's expansion. Yangjiang City ranks merely as a fifth-tier locale by Huaxia standards—far too cramped and sparse for our needs. Might we venture into larger cities…"

The patriarch spoke with caution. Under Chengzang's divine oversight these two years, the Shu clan surged in power. Emboldened, the leader now deemed this backwater insufficient for his soaring dreams, craving grander domains.

"This requires consideration."

Chengzang responded. Until now, utmost caution defined his efforts; followers numbered barely over a thousand, expanding at a snail's pace. He favored a rock-solid base before any bold leaps.

Per Lingjing Star's ancient Buddhist strategies, propagation splits two ways: elites first, led by virtuoso monks versed not only in sutras but arts like melody, strategy, ink, and brush. Backed by nobility, success flows smoothly.

Alternately, target the masses below, whose scant learning eases indoctrination. Vast flocks yield immense spiritual might, amplifying the order's potency.

No strategy has ever faltered; triumphs repeat flawlessly, errors virtually nonexistent.

Yet Blue Star's world baffles him utterly. Prior wisdom falls short; rashness invites peril.

Even though he was well aware that no powerhouse in Qingyun could overpower him—the mightiest there merely at the early Void Achieving stage—he understood far more clearly that Qingyun served under Huaxia, a land brimming with numerous Tao Achieving masters.

"Yes, Master is right."

The family head showed no anger at Chengzang’s rejection. His devotion to Buddhism ran deep in spirit and tied his true benefits to it as well. Over these two years, their family fortune had multiplied dozens of times. Without Chengzang’s protection, he couldn’t have kept it secure. Their interests were now intertwined completely.

"What is the second thing?"

"Master, a few days ago, my son studying at Jingdu University mentioned spots in Qingyun preaching Buddhist teachings, and he wishes to join…"

"Wait, other places are spreading Buddhist teachings?"

"Yes, Master, what is it?"

"Show me the news."

"Yes, Master."

Right before him, the family head video-called his son. The young man had converted last year and remained deeply pious. He promptly shared the details with Chengzang.

This phenomenon had persisted for a while. Across Huaxia, Qingyun, and parts of Zhou Liao, bald Buddhist cultivators appeared, preaching openly. Though the authorities didn’t officially recognize them and lumped them with other faiths, their influence spread rapidly nonetheless.

Buddhist temples dotted Jingdu City in Qingyun, alongside dedicated websites. Monks hustled online and offline alike, tirelessly pushing Buddhist doctrines.

Upon viewing this news, Chengzang stood utterly stunned, his mind on the verge of shattering.

"How could this be? How could this happen?"

Chengzang muttered to himself, utterly baffled. Had Buddhists from Lingjing Star emerged victorious over the Blue Star Lord, granting them freedom to preach openly?

Yet why had no word reached him? Impossible—he was an arhat, nearing bodhisattva status, a key figure in Lingjing Star’s ranks. How could he remain ignorant?

Still, this failed to account for their audacity in teaching. Why no crackdown from Blue Star?

"Master?"

"Pull up those websites and details on the monks. I need a thorough inspection."

Chengzang responded swiftly, then dove into browsing the sites and viewing the videos.

A familiar aura hit him, for he recognized the content intimately; those scriptures hailed straight from Lingjing Star’s Buddhist sect, ones he knew inside out.

Even their preaching styles rang true—like short tales, say of a factory worker unscathed amid machine mishaps that injured or killed others, all thanks to chanting Amitabha Buddha’s name.

One account told of a midnight house blaze spelling doom, yet reciting a specific Buddhist scripture parted the flames, carving an escape route to safety.

Never dismiss these tales as foolish; they’d employed such tactics before, and they proved highly effective. Crowds flocked to belief.

Yet here on Blue Star, with millennia of advanced tech, its sharp-minded populace—how many would swallow such stories? Sure, fools existed, and with Blue Star’s vast numbers, followers would abound, but what of the rest? How did they perceive Buddhism?

The deeper Chengzang pondered, the greater his unease swelled. Despite his arhat cultivation, his thoughts swirled in chaos.

"Master, is something off about this?"

"Yes, deeply wrong."

Chengzang affirmed, then voiced his suspicions, leaving the family head dumbfounded.

"Master, could this be some kind of trap?"

The family head ventured, and as an outsider, he saw through it plainly, pegging it as a snare.

"You’re spot on—this is a trap."

Chengzang nodded vigorously upon hearing it; he’d sensed as much, and the family head had pierced that final veil of uncertainty.

"Master, if it’s a trap, we can simply disregard them."

The family head suggested, figuring that spotting the ploy meant they could brush it aside.

Chengzang agreed with a nod, tempted to dismiss it, yet a nagging sense warned that ignoring it spelled trouble—he just couldn’t pinpoint where.