Chapter 42: Why Is the Top Scholar Here?

“This master, we picked up the dog on the road. We did not steal it.”
Xu Ye stepped forward, positioning himself between the old monk and Lin Buyu.
“Uncle Huizhuo, what brings you to the scripture hall? Come with me, let’s return. There are important matters here today.”
Before the old monk could reply, Zhiheng—the monk who had earlier examined them on Buddhist law at the Hall of Heavenly Kings—hurried into the hall and quickly interposed himself between Xu Ye and the old monk.
“Huizhuo? So you are the Master Huizhuo who took in this stray dog.”
Lin Buyu, whose face had been alight with fury, instantly lost all trace of anger upon learning the monk's identity.
“The pure land of the Buddha’s temple is in such disarray, all thanks to Huineng. I wonder how he will ever face the Buddha in the future!”
Huizhuo seemed not to have heard Lin Buyu's words; muttering to himself, he turned and left with the little spotted dog in his arms.
“My apologies for the embarrassment. Uncle Huizhuo is eccentric by nature, but he is not a bad person,” Zhiheng explained, somewhat abashed, to Xu Ye and Lin Buyu.
“It was we who were at fault.”
Lin Buyu joined his palms together and bowed in return.
After a few more polite exchanges, Zhiheng excused himself with a look of deep apology and left.
“I always feel there’s something uncanny about Master Huizhuo,” Xu Ye remarked, watching Zhiheng’s retreating figure.
Lin Buyu didn’t seem surprised by Xu Ye’s comment.
“Ever since the Buddhist transmission was severed, Buddhist cultivators have easily lost their way, often ending up as neither man nor ghost. Take Master Huizhuo, for instance—he once had the potential to attain the Arhat realm, but at the final threshold, a lingering obsession in his mind caused him to fail. Not only did he not break through, but he also became as he is now, his temperament growing ever stranger.”
Knowing Xu Ye was unfamiliar with Buddhist cultivation, Lin Buyu explained in detail.
“Is Buddhism in such a sorry state now?”
Xu Ye was surprised. His knowledge of Buddhism was scant, limited to a rough understanding of its history—let alone reciting its sacred texts. Otherwise, perhaps he might have been able to help these monks adrift in their sea of suffering.
“Lin Buyu, Xu Ye, you two may enter.”
At that moment, the proctor called their names.
“Yes, sir.”
Lin Buyu answered, then turned to Xu Ye.
“Let’s go in.”

...

The examination hall of the Hall of Sublime Law.
Inside, Xu Ye was greeted by rows of neatly arranged desks, each equipped with brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones—everything prepared for the examinees.
“This round will test your skills in poetry and painting. The theme is ‘Moon and Night.’ Paint the moonlit night, and compose a poem on the same subject. You have one hour.”
An old scholar seated at the head of ten desks swayed as he slowly announced the topic.
Xu Ye was not surprised that the subject of this literary gathering was ‘Moonlit Night.’ Though this world had no sun or moon, the scholars—well-versed in the Six Classics—had long since made sun and moon into the totems of their hearts, often composing poems and essays with them as inspiration.
It was not unlike his hometown, where, despite no one having ever seen a dragon, countless poems and essays invoked dragons and immortals.
“Moon and night…”
Upon hearing the topic, Lin Buyu immediately closed her eyes in deep thought, evidently already sketching the scene in her mind.
As Xu Ye had completed his task, he watched her at leisure, propping his chin on his hand and grinding ink for her as he waited.
After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, Lin Buyu opened her eyes and took a brush from the rack.
“Thank you… Thank you.”
She seemed surprised to see the ink already prepared.
“You’re welcome. I had nothing else to do,” Xu Ye replied with a yawn and a smile.
Lin Buyu nodded and quickly set to work.
Her brushwork was deft and practiced. With just a few strokes, the outline of a moonlit night took shape on the paper—clearly the result of diligent study.
Yet Xu Ye was surprised to see that Lin Buyu had not painted the common scene of a mountain moon, but rather a solitary moon above a vast, boundless sea.
“This is the Ink Sea. When I was about six or seven, my mother took me alone across the waters, longing for her homeland on the far shore. I remember it vividly—there was a sacred object, shaped like the legendary moon, illuminating the entire river. No matter how the sea-ghosts battered the boat, none could break the surface.”
Knowing Xu Ye was watching, Lin Buyu narrated her childhood memories softly as she filled in the painting's details.
“Did you… make it across the Ink Sea?”
Xu Ye straightened, curious.
“I don’t think so.” Lin Buyu shook her head. “Shortly after I saw that sacred object, the sea rose in giant waves. Countless wraiths, riding the waves, swarmed our boat. I fainted in terror, and when I awoke, I was already home.”
Her tone grew somber as she spoke.

“Now, the Ink Sea is once again shrouded in ghostly mists. The city on the shore where I lived for over a decade is forbidden ground, and even the owner of that bright moon has fallen to the wraiths.”
As Lin Buyu finished her words, she completed the final stroke of her night-moon painting.
Perhaps because it was rooted in her own experiences, the painting radiated not only grandeur but also a sense of despair—mirroring humanity’s plight in this world.
It was, without a doubt, an excellent painting—not the work of a true master, perhaps, but uniquely expressive of Lin Buyu’s personality and vision.
Yet Xu Ye felt something was missing.
“Hoo…”
Lin Buyu set down her brush and studied the painting, then let out a long breath.
“Well?”
She smiled at Xu Ye, clearly satisfied with her own work.
“If it were up to me, I’d rate it top grade,” Xu Ye praised without reservation.
“Oh, never mind asking you—you hardly look like someone who knows art,” Lin Buyu said with a pout.
But despite her words, she was clearly pleased.
“Master Liang, my painting is complete. I ask you to judge it with the sacred artifact.”
At that moment, a disciple stood up and addressed the elderly scholar at the front.
Hearing this, the dozen or so examinees all turned to look.
At first, no one found the young man remarkable, but when their eyes moved past him to his companion, an uproar swept the hall.
“It’s Li Moyan, the top scholar!”
Someone could not help but cry his name aloud.
Hearing the name, Lin Buyu froze, her face filling with disbelief.
“How is it possible? Why would Li Moyan take part in the Talent Recruitment Literary Gathering?”
Seeing her reaction, Xu Ye needed no explanation—Li Moyan must be an extraordinary scholar indeed.