Chapter 5: The Five Realms Of Man And Ghost
“Shamatha is when the mind stops, the spirit resides, the body is calm, one can visualize all Buddhas, visualize all Bodhisattvas, and by seeing one’s own body, achieve the fruit position.”
Jiang Ce read the preface word by word, vaguely gaining some enlightenment.
Unlike the Shamatha his Master had mentioned, this book did not seem to merely advocate calming the mind and emptying everything during Buddhist cultivation, but rather to achieve something extraordinary through this method.
The image of the Monk casually using the Vajra Bowl to collect the female ghost surfaced in his mind, giving Jiang Ce a bold guess: could cultivation methods really exist in the world?
Jiang Ce became interested and continued reading.
By the time he had roughly finished reading the entire Sutra, it was unknowingly already late at night.
Jiang Ce’s aptitude was extraordinarily exaggerated; otherwise, the Old Abbot who raised him would not have cultivated him so carefully. If he hadn’t gone astray later, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that he was already internally designated as the next abbot.
So after just reading it once, aside from some details that still needed consideration, he had completely comprehended the core essence.
In summary, this was not merely Buddhist Scriptures, but a systematic cultivation method.
According to the Sutra, from ordinary person to transcending the mortal realm, it was roughly divided into five stages.
The first stage was ordinary person, extremely fragile, fearing cold and heat, prone to illness and injury, following the natural laws of life and death.
The second stage was Jianghu sorcerer, knowing some rudimentary sorcery, able to confuse the senses, able to perform spiritual communication, seeing a part of the world’s essence, such as communicating with the dead, controlling dead objects like paper effigies, raising little ghosts, raising Gu and using Gu, all means that Jianghu sorcerers could employ.
For the Buddhist Sect, it meant being able to strengthen the body and cultivate Qi, exorcise demons and dispel evil.
In the past, being a Jianghu sorcerer was already sufficient as a reliance for traveling far and wide, and many capable people had left behind good or infamous reputations in later generations relying on these abilities.
But in reality, within the entire group of cultivators, it was merely the entry level.
This third stage was called Heaven-Reaching Dharma Master; the term “Heaven-Reaching” alone sufficed to explain their ability—they had touched the essence of the world and could employ means unimaginable to ordinary people.
Seeking rain, seeking fortune, divining heavenly secrets, divining fate—all were mere trifles to them.
If the bizarre means of Jianghu sorcerers were compared to undergraduate level, then the ability of Heaven-Reaching Dharma Masters was like that of a PhD from a top university, no longer limited to superficial knowledge; their attitude toward knowledge shifted from learning to use to exploring and discovering—a qualitative leap.
The fourth stage was called Half-Immortal.
Unlike the street fortune-tellers calling themselves Half-Immortals, the Half-Immortals among cultivators were beings who could comprehend the laws of the world, already transcending life and death, with body and mind integrated into the world’s laws. Powerful Half-Immortals could induce natural changes with a raise of the hand or a toss of the foot.
Natural cycles, laws of life and death, even the elusive fortune, rise and fall of dynasties—none were beyond their interference.
There were Daoists who with a lift of the hand brought dark clouds pressing the city, five thunderbolts crashing down to scatter thousands of troops; Monks who with a snap of the fingers recited Sutras, myriad Buddhas converging to deliver countless undead; swordsmen whose single sword pierced the long sky, severing the star river, stopping time; and knife wielders whose single slash split mountains and rivers, severing a nation’s fortune, making it unknowable for a thousand years thereafter.
Half-Immortal, one mere half-step from True God.
And the fifth stage had no explanation, only a name: True God.
Jiang Ce clicked his tongue in wonder; though yearning for it, he didn’t take it too seriously.
“As expected of a Monk, he’s got a knack for bragging. This outline alone got my blood boiling.”
He seemed to completely forget that just over a year ago, he had only just returned to secular life.
Below the detailed introduction of the stages, there were some notes in different handwriting, appearing to be supplementary content.
And this content was the strength classification for ghosts.
Similarly five stages, corresponding respectively to: ghost, vengeful spirit, fierce ghost, fierce fiend, malign god.
The first two stages, ghosts were inferior to humans; fierce ghosts were on par with Heaven-Reaching Dharma Masters, but in the latter two stages, ghosts surpassed humans.
This was because starting from fierce ghosts, ghosts began to develop intelligence, and their greatest advantage over humans was that ghosts had clear purposes and were often extremely cruel and vicious, without compassion.
The traits of ruthlessness and unscrupulous means naturally allowed ghosts to have fewer weaknesses than humans, making them harder to deal with.
“If these are real, then that Monk came without a trace and left without a trace, using the Vajra Bowl to collect the ghost as easily as using an arm, and his message didn’t seem to take Jianghu sorcerers seriously at all—he’s very likely a so-called Heaven-Reaching Dharma Master.”
Jiang Ce pondered:
“I don’t know what that female ghost was made of, but she was clearly different from other ghosts—at least a vengeful spirit. In that case, did the Monk save my life?”
Shaking his head, Jiang Ce dismissed these ideas. Anyway, he hadn’t encountered danger at the time, so even if there was kindness, he wouldn’t acknowledge it— no one could morally kidnap him!
“But this Great Shamatha, I’ll reluctantly count it as owing him a favor, but only if it’s actually useful!”
Thinking this, Jiang Ce happily turned to the section detailing the cultivation method.
This Buddhist Scripture was incomplete, and it wasn’t surprising that the Monk only had Jiang Ce cultivate to Jianghu sorcerer level—this scripture only went up to Jianghu sorcerer, with nothing beyond.
The cultivation method also perfectly matched the word “stop,” because according to the scripture, one had to empty everything—not only clear the mind of stray thoughts, but ideally forget even one’s own name and identity, with the mind completely blank as the optimal state.
Then recite the Sutra, using merit as the medium to connect with various Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, and through visualization and worship, gain benefits from it, transforming the merit in one’s body into a source of power.
In other words, unlike the spiritual energy in cultivation novels, in reality, to cultivate, the hard currency was merit.
Thus, a problem arose.
“No wonder it said earlier that all cultivation requires first doing good for ten years, using merit to communicate with Heaven and Earth. After all that, it turns out you need to be a good person to cultivate?”
Jiang Ce’s expression twisted somewhat.
Demanding money, life, or chastity was negotiable, but demanding merit was really asking too much.
With his daily high-intensity viewing of various hellish spectacles and doing all sorts of lacking-merit deeds, where would any merit come from?
Even that Monk said merit would avoid him, and fortune would gradually dissipate—what the hell could he cultivate then?
“The Monk said I carry inauspiciousness, bound to become a great calamity, resolvable only by transcending the mortal realm. If that’s true, then I can’t accumulate merit now; without merit, I can’t cultivate; without cultivation, I can’t resolve the calamity—this is a dead loop!”
Thinking it over, Jiang Ce found it unreasonable.
This simply didn’t give a way to live!
“No wonder the Monk showed off and ran; he must have thought of this problem too. But if so, why not just tell me it’s hopeless?”
This gave Jiang Ce a headache, but he couldn’t find anyone to help. Not to mention the Monk’s whereabouts being unpredictable and even his name unknown, even his Master was nowhere to be found—the temple where he had lived for over ten years was already deserted when he went to borrow money a few months ago.
Although combining the current information, the usually kind and benevolent Old Abbot was definitely not simple either, but Jiang Ce could no longer count on him.
Thinking of perhaps taking advantage of the calamity not yet arriving, using ghost-summoning to swindle and deceive for a few carefree years first, a peculiar idea suddenly appeared in his mind.
“Hiss”
Jiang Ce narrowed his eyes slightly and began self-hypnosis:
“Master said I owe the Buddha massive merit and am about to become a fierce fiend, meaning at least there’s an amount. If merit can be used like money, then my current situation is like a deadbeat debtor.
Fierce fiends rival Half-Immortals, so they must be extremely powerful. If so, I must owe the Heaven and Earth Bank a huge amount.
Owe the bank ten thousand, and they ignore you; but owe the bank a hundred billion, and you’re the bank’s daddy!
Others cultivate with merit; I cultivate by owing merit—seems reasonable enough.”
Saying and doing, Jiang Ce didn’t care about anything else and decided to try first. He immediately cleared all stray thoughts and, following the Sutra, entered the Shamatha state.
In an instant, Buddhist Charm emerged, making Jiang Ce appear extraordinarily serene and tranquil. If one didn’t know him, they might really think he was some enlightened high monk.
This meditative state lasted an unknown time. When Jiang Ce recited the Sutra for the Eighty-First Time, in his originally empty field of vision, the outline of some existence unexpectedly appeared.
But merely a glance, and Jiang Ce abruptly opened his eyes.
His eyes held surprise, bewilderment, confusion, and doubt.
A thousand words ultimately became one sentence:
“So weird, let me look again.”
