I dug out the finger bones of my Buddha.
In the crack of the 3,700th step of the Lingshan ruins, it is as warm as white jade, glowing with a faint golden light under the moonlight.
Master said that this is the place where the Buddha was buried, and every grain of sand is soaked in the blood of the Buddha. I shouldn't have come, but the temple is running out of food, and I want to look for any magical artifacts left by my predecessors that haven't been looted in exchange for rice.
The finger bone tentacles are warm and beat gently as if they are alive.
Then, it turned into liquid golden light and penetrated into my palm.
At the same time as the severe pain came, a vast sea of broken images rushed into my mind:
I saw the golden Buddha's blood raining down on the sky;
I saw countless solemn images of the Buddha collapsing and twisting in the black tide, emitting miserable howls that did not sound like the Buddha's name;
I saw splendid tombs descending from the sky, suppressing those twisted figures deep in the earth;
Finally, I heard a tired but compassionate voice,
"Jin Chan... Finally... Is waiting for you..."
"We have used our bodies to suppress the black tide and have gone through hundreds of thousands of calamities..."
"The way of heaven is diseased, and the false Buddha has stolen his throne... I need you... To inherit the tombs of three thousand Buddhas... For this heaven and earth..."
"Funeral funeral... And new life..."
