Chapter 325 Love is everywhere
The Holy Son finally regained his freedom, and the monks were overjoyed.
When the monk received the order from the ancestors, he could not contain his excitement and ran to lift Jiaying's house arrest without caring about losing manners.
At the end of the underground palace, he placed his hand on the mechanism and watched the cold jade door that sealed Jiaying rise up little by little. He couldn't help but think:
40 years have passed. I wonder what the Son of God has become now?
When the gate was raised to the top, the monk asked the others to wait outside while he went to invite Jiaying out personally.
The solitary confinement cell was very small, ten steps long and seven steps wide. It was as dark as night inside. A screen was placed in the empty room facing the door to block out outside prying eyes.
There was a small lamp behind the screen, illuminating a narrow space, and a figure sitting cross-legged could be vaguely seen.
Apart from this, there is no other possession.
The acolyte stood at the door, feeling sad for Jiaying's situation.
His eyes were hot, and he choked up and said, "Master Imperial Master, you can leave now."
He shouted twice, but the figure inside remained indifferent.
He then walked into the solitary confinement room and carefully walked behind the screen.
"Master Imperial Master?"
The figure behind the screen was still writing at the desk, and the acolyte felt something strange about the floor beneath his feet.
The soft and smooth touch feels like stepping on some vibrant seaweed or a carpet with excellent texture.
The monk was horrified and said "Forgive me", then quickly cast a spell to fill the room with light.
The confinement room was bright as if illuminated by the sun. The acolyte looked down and suddenly found that he had accidentally stepped on a piece of long hair.
Her long hair flowed out from behind the screen like a black river, as black as lacquer and dazzling.
Among the beauty judging criteria in the divine realm, hair is also considered an important assessment indicator. If you only look at the hair, everyone will think that there is an unparalleled beauty sitting behind the screen.
The acolyte's heart suddenly sank, as if falling into an icy cave.
He quickly walked behind the screen and saw a long-haired man who looked familiar yet completely unfamiliar, sitting in front of a low table, grinding ink and painting.
His long hair draped behind him, like the embodiment of longing, growing wildly like weeds.
The man finished the last stroke of the portrait, looked at the figure on the paper with a smile for a few moments, and finally put down his pen and looked up at him.
Time has left no trace on his face. His complexion is dignified and his appearance is elegant. His monk's robes are as white as the first snow, and his temperament is as pure as a banished immortal. It is definitely Jiaying.
Only then did he realize that the four walls of the room were covered with portraits of Ye Xiaoman. Her every frown and smile were so real that they almost seemed to jump out of the paintings.
Countless pieces of letter paper with ink writing were scattered on the ground, and the neatly piled letters in the corner of the wall had reached the ceiling.
Jiaying spent 40 years missing his lover through portraits and expressing his longing through letters.
The acolyte was so frightened that he had to hold on tightly to the edge of the screen to steady his shaky body.
The punishment from the ancestors was meaningless, and Jiaying became even more immersed in his world.
The old monks hoped that he could dilute his obsession in the long river of time, but he turned time into rich wine.
Jiaying didn't care about the monk's misconduct. He stood up, walked past the monk and walked out the door.
His expression and even his back were calm, but the acolyte thought he was even crazier.
When Jiaying walked out of the door, the monks and attendants waiting in the corridor reacted in unison and all their expressions changed color.
The walkway leading to the outside world is a stone road that slowly extends upwards to the ground.
Every floor tile is covered with black characters, which look like Buddhist scriptures scattered all over the ground, or talismans.
There was light at the exit, and Jiaying walked up.
The acolyte ran over and grabbed his arm.
He hastily reminded Jiaying, "This is a road of trial. Only those who have emptied themselves of the four elements can complete it as if walking on flat ground. If you are still detached from your worldly desires, you will suffer the burning pain of the hellish fire."
Jiaying did not hesitate, he walked forward calmly.
Her ten-foot-long hair was draped behind her like silk that shone brightly on the ground, her clothes flowed elegantly, and her figure was extremely beautiful.
It feels like walking on a mountain of knives. This is the price a mermaid has to pay for trading her fish tail for human legs. Every step feels like walking on a knife edge.
As he passed by, the Buddhist scriptures on the ground rose from the ground like fireworks, his white clothes caught fire, and the blood-red flames devoured his pure white body. His flesh and blood were burned to ashes, and the white bones on his arms were exposed, and even the bones were on fire.
Burned to ashes, the ashes fell to the ground, and the ashes turned into a human form again and stood up, growing bones and flesh again. The bones and flesh were burned again, and this cycle continued endlessly, but it could not extinguish the love and desire boiling in his blood. Jiaying walked towards the light step by step.
The karmic fire can never destroy the endless obsession.
The acolyte followed Jiaying the entire time. Seeing such a tragic scene, he couldn't help crying and said incoherently all the way: "Don't you feel any pain? Forget it, just forget her..."
Jiaying walked stubbornly to the exit, leaving blood marks with every step.
The sunlight is strong.
He had lived underground for a long time and could not adapt to the strong light for a while, so he raised his fingers that had been burned into charcoal and blocked his eyes.
The charcoal was blown off by the wind, and the flesh wrapped around the bones, restoring them to their original beautiful palms.
"Holy Son." A vicissitudes of life sigh came from Jiaying's side.
The old monk who had been responsible for teaching Jiaying since childhood appeared.
Jiaying withdrew his gaze from the sun and looked down at him coldly: "Let me go."
The old monk looked at Jiaying's appearance after he returned to secular life with a complicated expression. This clearly reminded others that if Jiaying had not been chosen as the Holy Son by Yongning Temple, he would have been a handsome and elegant young man from a noble family with an enviable marriage.
The old monk did not formally respond to Jiaying's request. He took out Ji Wenyi's handwritten letter and said, "Your Majesty, please come out of seclusion."
Jiaying took it, glanced at it, and then proposed a deal. "I can help Yongning Temple, and in exchange, I want to leave."
The old monk looked behind Jiaying and saw the monks, led by the attendant, standing there at a loss, each of them with a look of confusion after the collapse of their faith.
Yongning Temple's more than ten years of painstaking cultivation was no match for a few sweet words from a woman.
The old monk and Jiaying looked at each other in silence for a moment. He said with nostalgia, "If the Holy Son has lost his memory, he will surely be able to recover to his former self."
The old monk's words were followed by the law. He stared at Jiaying and finished his spell.
Jiaying's body trembled, like a puppet grasped by the giant hand of fate. He stared blankly at the old monk, "Master..."
His pupils froze and he gradually lost consciousness. The past related to Ye Xiaoman was like pencil writing on a white paper being erased by an eraser. Precious memories were erased line by line and disappeared without a trace.
After a long time, Jiaying's eyes gradually regained their luster, but the puppet's heart had been dug out, and his eyes became empty.
He grabbed a bunch of his long hair from behind, stared blankly at the hair in his palm, and asked the old monk in confusion, "What's wrong with me?"
The old monk smiled kindly and said, "You were possessed by a demon a while ago and have lost some of your memory."
Jiaying felt something was wrong, but he couldn't tell why. He just felt like he had lost something more important than life, and his heart felt empty.
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