Chapter 2

In his previous life, he worked his way from an orphan to a prestigious university, then from a salesperson to founding his own company, facing numerous setbacks and hardships, with his life hanging by a thread several times.

When he finally achieved financial freedom and planned to enjoy life, he was diagnosed with a terminal illness, with only a month left to live.

In just a few days, he experienced disbelief, frustration, anger, struggle, and ultimately, endless regret.

If only he had known his life would be so short, why hadn't he enjoyed it more? Why had he only focused on making money, blinded by it?

At this point, a friend introduced him to a high monk.

He usually didn't bow to Buddha statues, thinking the Buddha was too busy to pay attention to him, and that one should rely on oneself.

But in this situation, with no hope left from the doctors and in the depths of despair, he could only cling to the Buddha for help.

The high monk was ugly, with a robe that had been washed until it was almost white. After entering his villa and taking a look, he shook his head and said, "Difficult," before turning and leaving.

His success was not by chance; his determination far exceeded that of ordinary people. He first hired two consulting firms to thoroughly investigate the background of this Master Lekong.

Master Lekong was indeed a true high monk, not a fabricated or hyped figure.

As his condition worsened and painkillers became ineffective, his suffering grew day by day. He gritted his teeth and, in a last-ditch effort, donated all his assets to the temple where Master Lekong resided.

At this point, he was both disappointed and angry with money.

No amount of money could save his life, and it was because of it that he had become so anxious and ultimately developed this terminal illness.

He decided to throw it all away, trying to grasp a sliver of hope, like a drowning person not letting go of a straw.

Two days later, Master Lekong appeared again.

He gifted him a palm-sized statue of the Medicine Buddha and a copy of the *Pharmaceutical Sutra*.

He taught him the hand seals and the method of reciting the sutra.

After learning, he couldn't help but ask with a smile, "Master, was it difficult because I didn't donate money, and now that I have donated, I can be saved?"

"What is your greatest wish now?" the master asked.

"Longevity! Immortality!" he said through gritted teeth, fiercely and desperately.

Before his terminal illness, his greatest wish was to make a fortune, to stand out, and to live a life of pride and dignity, to make his life worthwhile.

After his diagnosis, he realized what was truly precious and important.

The most terrifying thing in the world is not failing to stand out or live a life of pride, but death.

If he could live his life again, he wouldn't seek wealth, luxury, or power; he would only seek immortality.

His greatest wish was simply to live forever!

"The sea of the Tathagata, the ship of great vows!"

Master Lekong bowed to him: "By donating all your money and possessions, you have developed a sense of detachment from this world, finally untying the ship's moorings."

"Without this sense of detachment, even with great vows, you would be like a boat tied to a rope."

"Without untying the rope, no matter how hard you row, the boat cannot move, and how can it cross?"

"Now, with your great vows as the ship and the rope untied, you will surely reach the other shore. Namu Amida Butsu!"

With that, he left.

He was half-believing, half-doubting, but found that making the hand seal and reciting the *Pharmaceutical Sutra* before the Medicine Buddha indeed alleviated his pain.

The more he recited, the lighter his body felt. After three days, he reached a state of complete detachment, his mind wandering freely in the universe.

When he slowly came to, he found himself in this world, reborn as Master Fakong.

Seven days earlier, the old monk Yuanzhi had passed away, and the original owner, at the age of eighteen, had died from overexertion while practicing martial arts in grief.

He took advantage of the situation and possessed the body.

From then on, he was Fakong, and Fakong was him.

"Fakong..."

Thinking of this, he smiled and softly called out, feeling a sense of familiarity and strangeness. He put down his bowl and slowly walked to the lake.

This body was already weak, and his martial arts had been disabled, so he needed to take it easy. Carrying two buckets of water was already his limit.

The lake water was clear, and the bottom was visible.

The green water plants swayed like willow branches in the wind, and silver fish darted in and out of the water plants, lively and carefree.

He washed his hands and face with the refreshing lake water and slowly strolled around the lake to aid digestion.

He wore a smile on his face.

This quiet and warm little valley was entirely his, thanks to the deep legacy of Yuanzhi.

The secluded and enclosed valley, the fresh air, and the bright sunlight.

And the weak body.

Although the body was weak, it was full of vitality, and he could clearly feel it getting better bit by bit.

The fusion of the two souls had many wonders, one of which was that his senses, even his sixth sense, were more acute.

The world he saw now was as clear and vivid as the highest-quality camera photo, with the sky a pure blue, the grass a vivid green, and the flowers a striking red.

The sounds he heard now included the rustling of the wind through the treetops, the swishing of the wind through the grass, the gentle flapping of his monk's robe, the lapping of the lake water, the splashing of the water against the shore, and the crisp sound of fish tails.

The scents he smelled now included sixteen types of flower fragrances, thirty-two types of medicinal scents, the smell of fat, the freshness of the water, and the faint scent of green grass. Even when all these scents were mixed together, he could distinguish each one.

The body he felt now had a heart that beat strongly, pumping blood through his veins, providing strength to his muscles.

Fresh air was drawn into his lungs, mixed with the blood, and transformed into a subtle energy that flowed through his meridians.

The food in his stomach was breaking down into subtle energy, flowing through his organs.

His body was getting stronger bit by bit.

The world was so beautiful, and life was so enjoyable!

He walked around the lake with joy, stepping on the thick, soft green grass, breathing in the fresh air, and feeling content.

As he walked, his mind slowly focused inward, entering the vast, silent void in his mind.

It was a clear blue, like the sky at dawn.

Silent, as if he were in outer space.

In the silent, clear blue void, a spotless white lotus floated.

The size of a cushion, with nine petals, it was like a flower bud just opening, delicate and spotless.

On the lotus sat a translucent Medicine Buddha.

The size of a real person, with a face identical to his, he had his eyes slightly lowered, looking solemn.

In his left hand was a green willow branch, like jade.

In his right hand was a small black tower, about the size of a palm, with no luster.

The Medicine Buddha was reciting the *Pharmaceutical Sutra* softly, and the faint Sanskrit sounds drifted through the void, calming his mind.

At the end of the *Pharmaceutical Sutra*, a drop of dew fell from the void.

Like a dewdrop on a lotus leaf, it was bright like mercury, falling lightly and accurately into the Medicine Buddha's crown.

The Medicine Buddha glowed slightly and then dimmed, and the light entered one of the lotus petals.

Of the nine petals, only this one glowed.

After one recitation of the *Pharmaceutical Sutra*, another drop of dew fell, and the Medicine Buddha glowed, lighting up another petal.

The first petal glowed softly, and this one glowed faintly.

The first petal was already full, meaning it had reached ten years of life.

This weak body's lifespan had finally reached ten years and one day.

One drop of dew was one day of life, and one recitation of the *Pharmaceutical Sutra* could earn one drop of dew.

One recitation of the *Pharmaceutical Sutra* took half an hour.

In summary, one day of recitation increased his lifespan by twenty-four days.

This meant he would never grow old and die, as long as he didn't die by accident, he could live forever.

His greatest wish had finally been fulfilled.

Although it wasn't the original world, his lifespan was infinite.

However, in this world, to live forever, having a long lifespan was not enough; he also needed to have formidable martial arts skills, becoming a top expert, even the best in the world.

But this body's potential was too poor.

Sigh...

Life is never entirely as one wishes!

Thinking of this, he left the void in his mind and went to a small training ground by the lake to practice his boxing.

He smoothly performed the thirty-six moves of the Small Arhat Fist, then shook his head.

The Small Arhat Fist was a foundational technique of the Vajra Temple, simple but effective, strengthening the organs and improving the constitution, laying a solid foundation for cultivation.

But the Small Arhat Fist was also a technique that required great potential.

One practice made his body slightly warm, like walking ten laps around the lake.

Other Vajra Temple disciples, after one practice, would be hot and sweaty like in a steam room, as if they had run a hundred laps around the lake.

This was the difference in potential, a dimensional difference!

The original owner had felt this despair and gone mad, and he felt the same despair.

Although the fusion of the two souls made his senses acute, his thinking quick, and his memory excellent, he could not change the body's potential.

Others had wide, smooth meridians, while his were like narrow, muddy paths. No matter how strong the soul, it couldn't move fast on a bad path.

He stood on the small training ground, shook his head, and his mind focused inward again, entering the void in his mind, looking at the black tower in the Medicine Buddha's left hand.

He somehow knew that this tower was called the Prajna Kalachakra Tower.

It was his hope!

---

Three days later, in the evening, he walked by the lake after dinner.

The sun had already set.

The dusk was like a mist, enveloping the valley, filtering out noise, making the valley especially quiet.

His mind also became especially calm.

After ten laps, his mind returned inward.

In the clear, silent void, the faint Sanskrit sounds drifted.

The lotus was as delicate as a morning flower, with one petal glowing brightly and another petal faintly.

This was the result of the past three days.

Seventy-two days of life had made this petal glow a little, though it was far from the brightest petal, it was enough for him.

His mind moved slightly.

Strands of light drifted out of the petal and landed on the Kalachakra Tower.

The black tower began to glow, becoming brighter and brighter.

In the next moment, he found himself in a spacious, bright space.

It was a nine-story tower, with an open center.

There was no visible light source, but the tower was as bright as daylight, with everything in sight.

The size of a soccer field, the floor was made of white jade, soft and not slippery.

The inner walls were carved with lifelike Buddha statues, countless Buddhas watching him, giving him blessings.

He looked down at himself, touching his body.

The sensation was real, no different.

Not only his spirit, but his entire body had entered the tower.

He immediately noticed something different.

His mind was calm, as if all emotions had been removed, leaving only reason, constantly analyzing himself.

He lightly clenched his fist, and in his mind, he clearly saw every inch of skin, every pore, every muscle, and the expansion and contraction of the capillaries within the muscles, the movement of the joints, and the stretching and contracting of the tendons on the bone membrane.

This feeling of having everything under control was exactly what he had been striving for, and he had achieved it in the Prajna Kalachakra Tower!

He couldn't help but practice the Small Arhat Fist.

While practicing, he used multiple senses at once.

He observed every change in his body as he moved, noticing the finest details.

After one round, he understood the essence and subtleties of the Small Arhat Fist.

Starting from the second round, he tried making minor adjustments, such as raising his punch slightly higher, squatting a bit lower, or reducing the angle of his body rotation by a degree or two.

These minor adjustments did not affect the form but greatly enhanced its effectiveness.

More wonderfully, the tower was filled with an invisible force, making him neither hungry nor tired, allowing him to practice the Small Arhat Fist over and over.

Over and over, he lost track of time, completely immersed in the practice and the strange changes in his body.

"Crack, crack, crack..."

His joints made crisp sounds, every joint in his body cracking.

The first level of the Small Arhat Fist, the power flowed smoothly through his body.

"Bang, bang, bang!"

His punches were like arrows, breaking the air with a sharp sound, and his heart beat with incredible strength.

The second level of the Small Arhat Fist, his heart became stronger, and his power doubled.

Just as he was in the best state and about to enter the third level, his vision darkened, and he found himself back by the lake.

He slowly regained his clarity.

He had been in the tower for over seventy days.

During these seventy days, he had practiced the Small Arhat Fist non-stop, as if in a dream.

But when he lightly clenched his fist, the surging power reminded him it wasn't a dream.

He looked down at an ant by his left big toe.

It was three inches away, just as it was before he entered the tower.

Next to the ant was a drop of water, splashed by a fish jumping in the lake, the water stain gradually spreading.

He could confirm: the seventy days he spent in the tower, time in the outside world had stopped.

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