A-Lai exerted his last ounce of strength， but he couldn't move. He even wanted to turn his head to look at his former classmates， but his vision was blurred， and all he could feel was a pair of soft hands tightly holding his own.

Room after room in the academy began to open， the headmaster leading a group searching for surviving students and casualties. Yep， the headmaster was hobbling around with a wood stick right after waking up from a coma， taking the lead in the search.

“Thud!“ Another intense impact sound resonated from the doorway， and the villagers exerted great effort to force open the classroom door.

“Survivors here! Come and help!“

A familiar voice called out from the classroom doorway. Finally， the youth let go of his consciousness， taking a deep breath of exhaustion before plunging into boundless darkness.

When the group outside saw the struggling creature， which had walked over a hundred meters before falling on its back， with a gaping hole in its belly and a twisted short gun lodged inside， they were left astonished.

This creature， resembling a colossal centipede， possessed long and robust limbs， fur as hard as iron wires， and its fatal wound was a puncture hole in its belly， with a twisted short gun still embedded within.

After a long time， when the people who survived the catastrophe realized that the monster had really been withdrawn， some hugged each other with tears in eyes， some spread on the ground， and some muttered in disbelief:

“Oh God， is there aught more mad than tonight?“

The moon disappeared into the darkness; dawn was approaching， but it was also the darkest moment.

In the pine tree shadows where Jack the werewolf once stood， the branches softly caressed the nearby dwarf pines， reminiscent of a lover's tender touch. A soft breeze carried a whispered murmur，

“Hey， girl， you made me grow，“

The dwarf pine's branch responded with a wild swing， like a high-five right on someone's cheek!

Morlin clutched the scroll， excitement coursing through him as he stepped out of the meditation room， eager to share his discovery and joy with someone. Hesitant to disturb the abbot， he glanced around and found the courtyard deserted， save for an elderly monk who had just finished sweeping the courtyard and was now resting on a tree stump in a corner， likely tired from his labor.

The old monk wore a worn-out saffron robe， his calloused hands bearing witness to years of hard work. In the corner， a charcoal stove boiled water， and after the water in the kettle had boiled， the old man moved it away from the fire， waiting for the temperature to drop to around 60-70 degrees Celsius. At the same time， he took a small handful of jasmine tea and placed it in a large clay teapot.

In the temple， he now did some physical work such as cleaning and making tea， much like a civil servant who had retired after a lifetime of hard work without much chance of promotion. It seemed that this old monk was just passing time， as the saying goes，“Learning in the morning， dying in the evening.“ Morlin pondered whether his discovery could rescue the old monk from his mundane existence.

“Master， you won't believe it， but I've found a clue about the impending catastrophe for humanity，“ Morlin exclaimed.

The old man seemed not to have heard Morlin's words as he gently smiled and asked，“Would you like some tea， benefactor?“

He poured hot water into a clay teapot and patiently waited for the jasmine tea to bloom in the water for two minutes， as if nothing could be more important than this.

“Master， don't be in a hurry to make tea. You spend your days in the temple doing nothing but sweeping and brewing tea. What's the use? Let me tell you what I've discovered， and you'll understand that your entire life has been in vain，“ Morlin urged.

“Oh， is there something better than jasmine tea?“ the old monk asked， suddenly intrigued by the middle-aged man's words.

Though Morlin was irritated by the old monk's indifferent attitude， he couldn't help but feel a pang of pity for someone of such advanced age achieving so little. So， he patiently did his best to eloquently narrate an unknown story.

In the grove of the Lantuo Temple in Tianzhu， a small bird perched on the branches of a Bodhi tree， silently observing the meditator sitting cross-legged beneath. It seemed to sense the tranquility deep within him， becoming immersed in the serenity.

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A gentle breeze swept through， rustling the meditator's loose robe. Sunlight filtered through the canopy， casting a faint halo upon him. At this moment， time seemed to stand still， everything immersed in the meditator's contemplation， blending with the universe.

After what seemed like an eternity， the master emerged from meditation， slowly opening his eyes and gazing ahead.

A young monk in his twenties， looking worn and weathered， emerged from the disciples. His face， marked by hardship， told the story of his long journey from the Middle Heaven Region. His hair was long and unkempt， streaked with gray， and his hands were rough and cracked， showing signs of a hard life.

The monk， Baiyun， knelt before the master， his hands in prayer and his worn robes showing signs of a long journey and past dangers. His eyes were clear and determined， reflecting his unwavering resolve and pursuit of truth.

The master looked at him with a calm gaze， seemingly detached from worldly distractions. Despite his soiled robes， Baiyun appeared pure and otherworldly， as if he had stepped out of another realm.

“What is your name， my child?“ the master's voice， old yet gentle， carried a hint of wisdom.

“Respected master， I am called Baiyun，“ Baiyun replied respectfully， his name carrying the meaning of 'white cloud.'

“Where do you hail from?“ the master nodded slightly， his gaze like the morning star， gentle and serene.

“Respected master， I come from the Middle Heaven Region， having traveled six million miles to seek solace from you， hoping that your grace can dispel the doubts in my heart，“ Baiyun's voice was crisp and firm， laden with expectations and hopes for the future.

“The Middle Heaven Region...“ the master nodded thoughtfully， a hint of contemplation flickering in his eyes，“Since ancient times， the Middle Heaven Region has been prophesied to be the birthplace of the Maitreya Buddha， as foretold in the Scripture of the End of the Dharma. The practitioners of the Middle Heaven Region have also seen the turning point of this world.“

Baiyun's heart surged with endless hope as he awaited the advent of Maitreya Buddha， anticipating a change in the world. However， the master regarded him with compassionate eyes， softly saying，“But as Buddha foretold， in the coming thousands of years， human hearts are corrupted， pandemics will ravage the earth， floods will inundate， and natural disasters will continue...“

With the master's words， Baiyun's heart swelled with boundless sorrow and worry. He recalled Buddha's prophecies， remembering the future trials and challenges.

“Respected master， as Buddha said， in the coming thousands of years， Mara， the tempter， will corrupt human hearts. Practitioners of the Middle Heaven Region have also foreseen the rampant presence of the Ten Demons. Even if we practitioners face lost teachings or proliferated false doctrines， how should we conduct ourselves?“

The master smiled and nodded， his gaze deep and compassionate，“I respect the practitioners of the Middle Heaven Region， and I too have seen part of the future. If practitioners give up effort and merely wait for the advent of Maitreya Buddha， I'm afraid they'll wait another ten thousand years without results.“

“In everyone's heart sits a Buddha， waiting for our hearts to guide us to the moment of his appearance，“ the master's voice was clear and firm， like a gentle breeze brushing through the heart.

“The true teachings of Buddhism will never be completely extinguished. Just as disciples will continue to pass on the Buddha's relics， guiding all pure-hearted practitioners to witness the Buddha's manifestation in this world.“

Baiyun sat quietly， hands folded in prayer， as he connected with something greater. The soft breeze carried away all other noise， leaving only the simple beauty of a poem escaping his lips， a reflection of his understanding of Buddhism.

In worldly woes， swift shadows flow，

Joys and sorrows， when will they go?

Bound to praise or blame， we're bound in chains，

When will we break free from these worldly plains?

Life and death's road， a winding trail，

In realms three， all but a fleeting veil.

Even heroes， their deeds now fade，

Leaving bones 'neath the earth's dark shade.

Better to turn back， before it's too late，

Than to strive and strive， and meet such fate.“