The Young Girl's Chronicles of Demon-Slaying

Chapter 45: The Monk’s Robe

As a child, Song Jianqiu was exceptionally self-motivated, both in her daily life and in her studies. She took the initiative to do everything on her own without needing adults to remind her. In her daily life, she was also seasoned and steady, never making mistakes. With a calm disposition, she never threw tantrums or acted out despite being a teenager, and her temperament was excellent—a true source of reassurance. This brought great comfort to Song Wencheng and Lin Yuqin, who had been living with her for nearly a month, and made Lin Yuqin particularly proud of her judgment—she hadn’t misjudged the girl. Being able to adopt such a reliable and low-maintenance child was nothing short of a blessing, which led Song Wencheng and his wife to dote on Song Jianqiu, truly treating her as their own biological daughter. By a little past nine in the evening, without needing to be reminded, Song Jianqiu went upstairs on her own to take a shower, returned to her room, and sat down at her desk to read. For her, television no longer held much appeal. She didn’t like watching TV dramas and, at most, would catch the news each day. As for online games and the like, she had matured early, and as an orphan, her days were already largely filled with school and part-time work—she simply didn’t have the time or inclination to play games, so naturally, she had no internet addiction or anything of the sort. Of course, this didn’t mean she never went online; it was just that when she did, she mostly browsed websites, read the news, and, at most, occasionally watched a movie—especially now that she’d been exposed to some truly extraordinary events, she’d become increasingly engrossed in all kinds of horror and supernatural films. To that end, she even went so far as to sign up for a VIP account on a movie streaming app, where she constantly searches for all kinds of horror films—both domestic and foreign, old and new alike. For many people, watching horror movies is all about enjoying the thrill of being scared, but for her, it’s a process of reflection and learning. Whenever she sees zombies or vengeful ghosts, she wonders: If I were to encounter them, how would I handle the situation? To that end, she would rewatch the same movie over and over, rehearsing how she would react if she were in that situation—striking poses in her room or reciting spells she’d read in books. Fortunately, Lin Yuqin values her privacy greatly; she always knocks on the door before entering Song Jianqiu’s room. As a result, her erratic behavior when she’s alone in her room has gone unnoticed so far. Otherwise, Lin Yuqin might have begun to suspect that Song Jianqiu was losing her mind. Generally speaking, by a little past ten o’clock at night, Song Wencheng and Lin Yuqin would return to their own room, sit on the bed to chat or read for a while, and then go to sleep around eleven. At that time, Song Jianqiu would climb into bed, sit cross-legged, and begin reciting sutras. It had been like this every night for over twenty days; it had become a routine. As for the sutra she was reciting, it had long since shifted from the *Diamond Sutra* she had started with to the *Lengyan Sutra*. As she recited, Song Jianqiu’s voice was soft, almost like a murmur. But soon, as she became immersed in the sutra, extraordinary visions began to manifest around her: a monk sat cross-legged behind her, his head bowed slightly in sync with her movements, reciting the sutra in unison with her voice. The murmured chants swirled together, and a Buddha’s light appeared, illuminating the room. Yet within that light, the only monks who truly seemed to take on a tangible form were the four closest to Song Jianqiu, standing behind her; the rest remained indistinct, their features blurred and their forms hazy—part reality, part illusion—making them impossible to see clearly. Perhaps these four materialized monks represented the depth of Song Jianqiu’s understanding of the Dharma? However, although only four monks were clearly visible, their voices seemed to penetrate from the boundless expanse of time and space. Though each individual voice was faint, when countless voices converged, they formed waves of murmuring sacred chants. Wave after wave of sacred chanting penetrated the walls and spread outward. Song Wencheng and Lin Yuqin, the couple living next door, benefited greatly from this. Most fundamentally, the quality of their sleep improved significantly; they woke up every day feeling refreshed and full of energy. At the same time, as they were constantly immersed in the sutras and the light of the Buddha, over time, they would naturally absorb the Buddha-nature, becoming impervious to all evils and enjoying robust health. Of course, the couple was naturally unaware of these benefits; they didn’t even know why the quality of their sleep had improved so much each day. Nevertheless, they were thoroughly satisfied with this state of affairs. In addition, another entity that benefited greatly was the osmanthus tree in the corner of the front yard. Ever since that ghost infant fled amid the chanting of the Buddha’s name and landed on the osmanthus tree, it had listened daily to Song Jianqiu reciting sutras, imbued by the sacred sounds. Over the past twenty-odd days, unseen changes had been taking place within it at every moment. Just today, when Song Jianqiu finished reciting the sutras, the Buddhist radiance surrounding her faded, and the monks behind her vanished. Suddenly, as if sensing something, she turned her head to look out the window. She got out of bed, walked to the window in her slippers, pulled back the curtains, and her gaze fell directly on the osmanthus tree. She saw that the tree, which had once been ordinary, now appeared as if cast in bronze and gilded with gold; every leaf and branch shimmered with a golden glow. Perhaps sensing Song Jianqiu’s gaze, the tree began to shake its branches and leaves joyfully. To her astonishment, instead of the usual rustling of leaves, it emitted waves of sacred chanting. Before long, as Song Jianqiu watched, the Buddha’s light began to gradually fade, eventually compressing and converging at the base of the trunk into a ball of light the size of a basketball. Then, the ball of light took on human form, and in a moment, a child of three or four emerged. The child had two pigtails tied high on his head, wore a belly band on top and shorts on the bottom. As soon as he appeared, he hugged the trunk of the osmanthus tree, hid behind it, and cautiously looked up at the window where Song Jianqiu was standing, seeming somewhat afraid of her. Could this… be that ghost infant? Song Jianqiu gave it a moment’s thought and concluded it was almost certainly that ghost infant. It seemed that, for some reason, this ghost infant was not only unafraid of the Buddha’s light but had also transformed into this form despite listening to Buddhist sutras every day. So what does that mean? Has it attained Buddhahood? Just as she was deep in thought, she suddenly sensed a mighty and sacred force descending from the heavens; before she had time to comprehend it, it had already surged into her body. Immediately afterward, a powerful gust of wind swept through the room, causing the curtains on either side of the window to flutter and the pages of the book lying open on the desk behind her to rustle. Then, a translucent monk’s robe, as crimson as flames with corners billowing like clouds at sunset, materialized around her. Such a startling transformation left Song Jianqiu utterly amazed. She couldn’t help but look down to examine it closely, running her hand over it to feel its unique texture—light as a feather, as smooth and delicate as silk. And indeed, it was just like silk: so thin and sheer that when she wore it, her nightgown was clearly visible beneath. (End of Chapter)