Time weaves through the dark starry sky like a golden thread， creating a tapestry of dead silence. As the sun descends in the west， its rays spill liquid gold， staining the horizon crimson.
The crescent moon spring in the desert gleamed like a pearl embedded in the yellow sands. On the banks of the lake stood an ancient temple， preserving the traces of years gone by.
Legend had it that this temple was built by a Buddhist master a thousand years ago， who returned from the“Jambudvipa”with scriptures in hand， carrying the ancient wisdom and religious solemnity.
The light filtered through the lattice windows， casting a faint halo that illuminated a middle-aged man's focused expression. His gaze held an intensity that seemed to unravel the very fabric of time， reaching into the depths of history's mysteries.
Beside him， ancient scriptures lay heavily on the wooden desk， their pages yellowed， their edges worn， bearing the marks of time's passage. In this tranquil place， the ancient temple's worn stone walls and the gentle rustling of old leaves painted a picture of serenity， as if time itself had paused to linger here.
Morlin， the middle-aged man with graying temples and reading glasses perched precariously on his nose， leaned over the ancient scriptures. His square face， etched with lines of concentration， mirrored the profound reverence he felt for the wisdom that lay within those yellowed pages.
He is an expert in ancient languages， had a passion for exploring old writings. His curiosity branched into various disciplines， like roots probing through fertile soil， seeking hidden treasures of knowledge. However， his boss， a pragmatic person， only valued traditional theories and research that could be published in classic journals.
Despite this， Morlin refused to confine his life to interpreting ancient characters on pottery or stones. He found himself idle at work， but it was this limited freedom that opened up another world for him.
He became captivated by the“Book of Daniel，“ a part of the Bible filled with strange visions and predictions about the world's end. Equally fascinating was“Sumerian Literature，“ the earliest stories written on clay tablets using wedge-shaped symbols. These ancient writings ignited Morlin's imagination， beckoning him to ponder the mysteries of time and existence.
Among the recent additions to his book list was “The Classic of Mountains and Seas，” an ancient Chinese text. As he pored over its cryptic maps and poetic descriptions， Morlin felt transported across time and continents.
In the ancient tome 'Tui Bei Tu，' Morlin found drawings and cryptic texts depicting events of the future， as foreseen by scholars from over 1400 years ago. The eerie accuracy of their visions sent a shiver down Morlin's spine， hinting at a mysterious connection between past and present.
Turning his attention to the 'Huangji Jingshi，' Morlin found himself drawn into a realm of mathematical precision and cosmic speculation. The ancient sages had meticulously charted universal events， their calculations echoing the enigmatic prophecies of Sumerian literature.
As Morlin delved deeper into these ancient texts， he felt the weight of their revelations pressing down upon him. Each scroll seemed to hold a piece of the puzzle， offering glimpses into the mysteries of time and existence.
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These books， which seem like myths， have greatly expanded Morlin's horizons. He feels as if he has entered the abyss beneath the calm sea， seeing a new world that others would never believe to their last breath. This exploration has also opened the door to the deep fears within his heart.
His gaze was focused and profound， penetrating the pages of history， as he immersed himself in the sea of books， unaware that more than a month had passed. When engrossed in passion， time's length and brevity blur; decades can pass in the blink of an eye.
Before him flashed scenes of the Buddha preaching before his Nirvana， disciples solemnly kneeling before him. In the vast sea of people， their faith was like a gentle breeze， soft yet unwavering. But the Buddha stayed silent， his manner lacking the brightness it once had， and the air around him became heavy.
Disciple Ananda was filled with unease， kneeling beside the Buddha， repeatedly inquiring， hoping to receive some guidance from his master. The Buddha's voice was filled with compassion as he described the future world he had seen.
In the near future， The Buddha's teachings were being destroyed， Buddhist scriptures deliberately mixed with pseudo-scriptures. People worshipped mud and straw， coated with gold powder， in temples.
Known as the Age of Five Corruptions， this era saw the rise of demonic paths， leading many practitioners astray into deeper darkness.
People's spirits were suppressed， compassion and care seemed to be forgotten in this bleak world. Malice and ill-will spread like an invisible plague， omnipresent and ceaseless. Human life expectancy was doubly affected by war and life pressures， constantly diminishing.
In this chaotic age， natural disasters and diseases are causing widespread destruction and loss of life. Crops are failing， leading to further hardship. Skyrocketing prices had become a global crisis， the sharp rise in the cost of living making daily life increasingly difficult. Wars between nations continued unabated， people killing each other for power and resources.
The hearts of the disciples were filled with sorrow and unease until the Buddha prophesied the reincarnation of Maitreya Buddha， which would gradually restore order to this chaotic world.
Before his Nirvana， the Buddha handed over his two Dharma implements to the disciple， instructing him to pass them on to Maitreya Buddha in the future.
When Maitreya Buddha accepted the Dharma implements， he would awaken memories of past lives and begin a new preaching to save the world.
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In the classroom， A-Lai turned alertly， twisting his head as his gaze searched through the darkness. Suddenly， a muffled wind sound struck him， and a gigantic shadow swept past.
A-Lai's pupils contracted sharply， sensing an immense threat.
He approached the window slowly， sticking his head out through the shattered gap. Suddenly， a dull“thud“ echoed， and a villager fell to the ground like a heavy log， raising a cloud of dust.
Soon after， another villager fell into bad luck， as if they were meant to face a scary moment of great trouble.
Unable to wait any longer， a flame ignited in A-Lai's heart. He gently removed some of the tables and chairs blocking the window. The wooden furniture in his hands seemed to become heavier， as if each step was traversing the edge of a cliff.
Beside him， Little Fly's grandfather witnessed everything.
"A-Lai， don't!"
Little Fly's grandfather gripped his arm， his voice urgent.
"Your life is more precious than all of ours combined. Don’t take risks!”
A-Lai's face registered a hint of confusion， but the next villager's agonizing scream seemed to dissipate his hesitation， even accelerating his movements.
“No one's life is more noble than another's!“
Sometimes， a hero is born not from careful thought， but from an instinctive reaction to the situation at hand.
A-Lai's heart pounded as he gripped the wooden frame. With a swift， precise motion， he drove his spear into the gigantic insect's body， the force creating a gaping hole， sending mysterious goo splattering across his face. His breath quickened， blending urgency with the thrill of survival.
The huge bug let out a deep cry of pain， lifting its upper body in a threatening way. Lots of small eyes， located above its two main eyes， gave off hundreds of sharp red lights. A-Lai felt a strange feeling， as if he was the target of a hundred sniper rifles with heat-seeking scopes.