The Old Monk's Long Talk

Durandal sat on the cushion that Xuanhui had brought out.

As soon as she sat down, facing the low, chanting voices of the old monks, Durandal immediately felt an immense pressure.

"Greetings, benefactor... This humble monk has been impolite. I hope you can forgive me..." The old monk hung the prayer beads on his wrist, then put his palms together and gave Durandal a slight bow.

Although the bow wasn't as grand as Xuanhui's before, due to the old monk's slow movements, the sense of respect it conveyed was even more profound than Xuanhui's.

Durandal quickly waved her hands. "No, no..."

The old monk looked up, his eyes still as cloudy and lightless as before.

"The benefactor deserves this bow. To be willing to come to this place with only three people to rescue us is truly fearless and full of great love..."

"This..." Durandal scratched her head, feeling a little ashamed at the old monk's words. "As a warrior of the MOTH, this is our responsibility..."

"Is that so..." The old monk gave a dry laugh. "It seems the MOTH has had a very deep influence on you, benefactor..."

Durandal nodded this time. "Yes, that place is very important to me."

The old monk raised his eyes slightly, his gray eyes staring straight at Durandal. After a long moment of observation, the old monk sighed softly, but a sincere smile appeared on his face.

"To repay kindness, to have something to care for... the benefactor has already reached a height that many ordinary people cannot."

"But it seems there is still some confusion in the benefactor's heart... you have not yet found your own place... or are you waiting for someone to give you such a thing?"

Durandal's breath hitched. She stared at the old monk in front of her, for the first time noticing how sharp his gaze was.

It was like a knife that had easily pierced the protective barrier of her mind, digging out the problem Durandal was most unwilling to face and laying it bare before her.

"I'm sorry... could you repeat that?" Durandal's head felt a little dizzy, and her tone of voice involuntarily softened by three points.

The old monk shook his head. "The identity, the position that the benefactor truly wants, others may be able to give, but no matter what, the benefactor will never get the position you truly want."

The old monk lowered his hand and pointed a trembling finger at the bowl on the side. "Just like these bowls, they are similar, yet completely different. There are always some bowls that want to become more valuable, but they can never become antiques.

"In the end, the bowl that tries so hard can only be identified as a fake. The positions determined by outsiders will also be overturned and destroyed by outsiders."

The old monk flicked the bowl lightly. The ceramic bowl immediately shattered a piece. Durandal's eyes widened in disbelief, looking at the old monk's withered arm.

"This humble monk has felt the benefactor's struggle and seen the benefactor's determination, but I cannot see the benefactor's true goal..." The old monk shook his head, placed the bowl in front of Durandal, and raised his hand to repeat the motion of flicking the bowl.

"Some people... because they have great kindness in their hearts, they help the world and thus win the love of the people... and some people, because they want to be loved, they help the world and let the world sing of their great kindness."

"The two seem to lead to the same path, but in reality, they are completely opposite. Buddhism judges the heart, not the actions, which is why there is the outrageous saying, 'Lay down the butcher's knife and become a Buddha on the spot'."

The old monk paused. It seemed that speaking so much was very difficult for him. After taking a few breaths, the old monk spoke again.

"Please forgive this humble monk's presumption, but I can see that the benefactor's foundation is high and your talent is strong. You are the strongest person I have ever seen in my life. It makes me not even dare to accept you into Buddhism, for fear that the worldly Buddhism would hinder your future.

"The world is now suffering from a calamity, and someone must stand up and bear the responsibility of reviving civilization..." The old monk looked at Durandal and said very seriously, "Even if the benefactor is not that person, you are certainly one of them."

"So the benefactor should walk out of the confusion, out of the shadow that envelops you, out of the expectations of others, and cultivate your 'true self'."

"I'm sorry... I don't quite understand..." Durandal's face was full of bitterness. She really didn't understand.

What shadow, what expectations... was she living in someone's shadow? And... the expectations of others, shouldn't she just work hard to meet them? Why should she break away from them?

"Hehe..." The old monk let out that dry laugh again. He looked at Durandal, a hint of softness in his eyes.

"Benefactor, may this humble monk ask a question?"

Durandal nodded. "Go ahead, I will answer."

"Did the benefactor come to save us voluntarily, or for a mission from the MOTH, or were you commissioned by others and accidentally found us?"

"Of course, it was..." Durandal subconsciously wanted to say that she had come here because of a commission, but just as the words were halfway out, she saw the smile on the old monk's lips.

Even though Durandal didn't answer, the old monk still made a hypothetical choice for her.

"Then wouldn't it be that without a mission from the MOTH, we would not be rescued?" the old monk said with a smile. "If the benefactor had not received a mission, would you not have saved us even if you had met us?"

"Of course I would!" Durandal replied anxiously. She would definitely not stand by and watch someone die! Even without a mission, as long as she saw them, she would definitely save them!

But in that case... what did what she wanted to say before mean?

"The benefactor came to save us not because you accepted a mission, but because you have kindness in your heart and cannot bear to see living beings suffer, not for fame and fortune, or to follow in the footsteps of certain people..."

The old monk paused. When he spoke again, his voice was a little weaker. "Benefactor... the goal you have set should not be how to meet the expectations of others.

"Human greed is infinite. They will only pile higher and higher demands on you, and then watch you fall from the building. Such pressure will crush anyone. Although the benefactor is exceptionally talented, you definitely cannot withstand such pressure..."

"So, benefactor... what is the goal you should truly strive for? What is it that you want to see..."

The old monk's cloudy eyes stared into Durandal's beautiful blue eyes, a hint of regret flashing in their depths.

"Follow your heart's desires, be it 'dreams' or 'desires'... Benefactor, you should create a dream for yourself, not chase the shadow that shares your name."

"You are not her, and you cannot become her."