Heaven-Defying Rebel Sage
Chapter 193 - 186: A Smile Amidst Flowers for 28 Years

Chapter 193: Chapter 186: A Smile Amidst Flowers for 28 Years

Wukong had entered the Reincarnation World, where awakening Xuan Ming’s six True Spirits was a tremendously difficult task. How hard would it be to awaken even one True Spirit, let alone the six that had almost fused with this iteration of the Reincarnation World? Although Wukong was aware of the difficulty, he had no choice but to undertake the task. Even if the path ahead was thorny, he had to pave a broad and smooth road.

"Has Mana completely disappeared?" Wukong awoke and tried to use Mana, but discovered he could not feel his Primordial Spirit and Three Flowers and Five Qi, making it naturally impossible to harness Mana.

Wukong muttered to himself, "Without Mana, where shall I search for it?"

In this life, he had begun learning the craft of sculpting with his master at the age of five. By the age of twelve, he had already completed his apprenticeship. His wooden sculptures were becoming increasingly beautiful, attracting more and more people in search of them. His fame grew larger until today, when he suddenly realized that he was not a sculptor, but Sun Wukong, and this place was merely the Reincarnation World.

"If that’s the case, then I might as well do like the Painter Sun Yuan within the cycles of reincarnation. From now on, I will only sculpt beautiful women. Perhaps in this way, I can find her, right? But once I find her, how should I awaken her? The way of the true heart resides in a single-minded devotion. How can something be conjured out of nothing? That would transcend the Heavenly Dao..." Wukong lamented inwardly, having found a method, yet not knowing how to wake her true heart.

At the same time, Wukong speculated to himself, "What if she does not come?"

"Master Sun, can you carve a tiger for me?"

Wukong stood up and bowed, saying, "I apologize, but I’m not in the right mood today, so I won’t carve."

"Ah! If Master Sun is inconvenienced, then some other day will do."

Wukong closed up his shop, thinking to himself, "In that case, I should carve her and then sell the sculpture. Regardless of her status, she will have to come to me. At the very least, I’ll catch wind of something."

He took an old tree root, carefully polished it smooth, then began to carve.

He carved with great dedication, striving for perfection in every line, because in his heart, this woman was already perfect; he could not allow the sculpture to have the slightest flaw. When he came to carve her eyes, he unintentionally remembered Xuan Ming’s clear yet calm eyes before her death. His heart ached; his wrist shook, and he carved an unintended gash at the corner of an eye.

"No, that won’t do." Wukong gently shook his head, discarded the sculpture, and went to the yard to fetch hundreds of wooden blocks to start over.

On his second attempt, his mistake was again in her eyes; the lines at the corners were too dull, lacking the cold yet tender aura, failing to convey his emotions, so he tossed it aside.

"Still not right..." Wukong discarded the third wooden sculpture as well.

He stood up and felt an unexpected weakness in his legs; unbeknownst to him, three days had passed. He then went to the back yard to cook and eat, pondering over his meal how to sculpture her to utmost beauty and perfection. After eating, he did not rest but continued carving.

"Master Sun! Master Sun, are you home?" Someone started knocking; Wukong pretended not to hear.

"Sounds like Master Sun must be occupied elsewhere. I’ll come back another day," another voice suggested, and the visitor left.

Wukong was completely absorbed in his carving, but no matter what, he could not achieve the appearance he desired. He understood this was his inner demon; if he couldn’t get this sculpture right, it would likely obstruct his own path of cultivation. There are myriad paths in the world; isn’t this carving also one of them?

"No, no..."

"The lines are too thick..."

"It lacks the essence..."

Wukong discarded one semi-finished piece after another, yet to outsiders, these sculptures were impeccable and lifelike, almost as if they could come alive. However, Wukong was not satisfied. After consuming a month’s worth of provisions and carving around a hundred pieces, he took the household’s money to the market to purchase groceries and rice.

"Hey, Master Sun, where have you been all this time?" Those who recognized Wukong greeted him.

Wukong just bowed his head, silently contemplating how to perfect the wooden sculpture.

"Has Master Sun been possessed? He looks like he’s lost his soul."

"Who knows? It does seem like his soul has been hooked away."

In a daze, Wukong bought rice and vegetables, commissioned people to collect more wood, then sealed his doors and resumed his carving.

"No good."

"No good!"

"Still not good!"

Before he knew it, Wukong’s carving speed increased; initially, he produced one semi-finished piece per day, then three a day, and after a year, he was making five per day. The quality of his work improved as well, yet he remained deeply dissatisfied. As time passed, he did not realize how many years had flowed past his fingertips. In the backyard, the pile of wooden sculptures had piled up as high as the walls.

Some mischievous ones who saw the carvings while playing hide-and-seek stealthily took away two, Wukong didn’t notice, his mind solely on carving.

"Master Sun’s carvings of this woman, who is she? She really is beautiful! To carve for twenty-four years, that’s truly persistence," someone exclaimed after obtaining the wood carving.

Since Wukong sequestered himself to carve Xuan Ming, the prices of his earlier carvings skyrocketed in the market. When the elders discovered the carvings taken by the children, and found out they were Wukong’s work, they didn’t make the children return them. Instead, they sold the carvings they had, urged the children to steal more, displayed one in their home, and sold the rest.

Wukong didn’t know how much timber he wasted, how many chisels he broke, his hands grew ever rougher, covered with calluses, and his eyes began to blur.

One day, a cold wind blew in the heavens, and demons and ghosts came to snatch people for food, everyone shut their doors.

This demon barged into the home of the Li family, who was so terrified his legs nearly gave way, but suddenly, the demon saw the carving on the table and cried out loud; a flash of golden light shimmered from the carving, and the demon tumbled to the ground. Scrambling to its feet, it fled without a direction, breaking through the walls, and vanished in the blink of an eye.

"A miracle! A miracle has happened; this woman must be a Bodhisattva, otherwise, Master Sun wouldn’t have dedicated so much effort to it," the head of the Li family shouted repeatedly.

Wukong was unaware of this incident, his attention undivided in his carving, but his fame grew. Countless people came to his home seeking his sculptures, yet Wukong didn’t sell them, merely saying, "If you admire them, take them and worship them well."

Everyone knew that these carvings could reveal the divine, and fearing they represented Bodhisattvas, they joyfully took them home, placed them upon altars, and carefully worshiped them.

Thus, the statues of Xuan Ming carved by Wukong grew increasingly famous, and more people came seeking them. When all the statues in his backyard were gone, people stood watch on his walls daily, waiting for Wukong to carve. As soon as Wukong threw a carving aside, they would rush to grab it.

"Only one per household, otherwise, it won’t be effective," Wukong said.

So no one dared to be greedy, knowing the sculptures were miraculous and out of fear, refrained from any crooked thoughts.

He had awakened at the age of twenty, now after twenty-four years of carving, he was forty-four years old. Another four years of carving passed, and he was nearing fifty.

On his forty-ninth birthday, he squinted, holding a carving blade in hand, gently setting it upon the wood carving, and with a soft stroke, he outlined a perfect curve.

"Haha, haha, finally, it is done!" Wukong couldn’t help but laugh.

Actually, the task could have been done with those he considered half-finished sculptures, but a sense of stubbornness seemed to compel him, forcing him to continue carving. He didn’t want to stop, always wanting to create a sculpture that would satisfy him.

He gently laid down the blade, set the wood carving before his eyes, scrutinized it thoroughly, and then tucked it into his chest contentedly.

Suddenly, he noticed that his hands were covered with calluses, and looking into a bronze mirror, he saw his once black hair turned to white, his forehead etched with wrinkles. Not only had he carved the statue of Xuan Ming, but time had also carved away at him.

Time, this blade, was more merciless, more determined, more weathered.

"Ah..."

He sighed deeply and suddenly looked up to the sky, then collapsed, his heart and strength exhausted, and died.

A most beautiful woman sat upon a lotus dais, descending gently from the air; should the common folk see her, they would think the carving had revealed divinity again—for she was the original form of the carving. Holding a sutra in her hand, wearing a Buddhist crown, a dot of crimson at her brow, poised elegantly—even Wukong’s meticulous carving couldn’t quite capture a thousandth of her grace, could it?

"Who are you? Why did you carve this wood carving of me?" the Bodhisattva sighed softly, "Did you know I was looking? Thus, you carved for twenty-eight years, and I watched for twenty-eight years."

The Bodhisattva leaned down, extracting the carving from his embrace, her gaze fixated.

The figure in the carving sat upon auspicious clouds, holding a mandala flower, a faint, serene smile playing on her lips. Her gaze was unremarkable, yet upon closer contemplation, one could see the almost imperceptible laughter in her eyes and a sense of satisfaction.

"The Buddha’s sentiment of a smile while holding a flower has truly been captured... If he embarked on the path of cultivation, perhaps in time, he could have become a Primordial Golden Immortal?" the Bodhisattva muttered to herself, inspecting the carving in her hand.

What Wukong carved was the demeanor of Xuan Ming when challenged by fate, holding a flower and smiling—a transcendent realm, hard to capture in rigid wood. Unknown to him, from the time he started carving, someone was watching, and just as he carved for twenty-eight years, someone watched for twenty-eight years.

"Be that as it may, be that as it may, once a person is dead, they are as extinguished as a lamp."

The Bodhisattva smiled faintly, her eyes welling with tears, she waved her hand, and the body turned to ashes...

The wood carving too turned to ashes with him, yet the moment before, she clearly saw the carving come to life, smiling at her while holding a flower...

To find out what happens next, please await the next installment. (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, please visit qidian.com to cast your recommendation votes and monthly tickets. Your support is my greatest motivation. For mobile users, please visit m.qidian.com to read.)