The Monk sighed as he walked through a nice open field filled to the brim with flowers of all kinds, flowers that he didn't recognize.
He was still within the Mo Family Compound, he hadn't left after that meeting, as he was still processing the news he had received, alongside what had happened.
On one hand, he was grieving the death of a woman he didn't know. But on the other, he was also grieving the fact that he would never get to meet that woman.
The person who had raised his body and guided it through adulthood.
'To think that I'd still be able to lose my cool like that... It hasn't happened in years.'
He had hoped that his enlightenment would prevent such emotional outbursts.
The last time he had such a breakdown, he had almost crippled 5 other monks that he had been training with.
He would have been kicked out, were it not for the Abbot vouching for him and vowing to assist him personally from that point onwards.
He had proceeded to hammer countless Sutras and Mantras into Mo Yangling's head, he beat discipline into the depths of the Monk's bones, and it had worked.
Mo Yangling had managed to internalize most of those emotions. He was able to overcome them and attain enlightenment eventually.
'Amitabha, I should not be too downtrodden now. I've never experienced something like this before.
Reincarnation with extra memories is something none of the scriptures mentioned. I am walking on uncharted plains now, I must learn to act accordingly.'
The monk sat down, cross-legged in that field, taking a deep breath as he slowly started recovering his Origin Energy.
Some of it had recovered naturally, but he still felt like a half-full bucket.
The monk's mind was clear as he sat there, in that open field. Flowers slowly started sprouting all around him as he breathed in Origin Energy, and breathed out the excess.
Each and every breath became more accentuated, as a thin, steam-like puff of smoke started floating around the Monk's meditating figure.
In that state, he felt himself slipping deeper and deeper into his own mind.
He saw every memory with more clarity. Every accentuated taste of the relatively peaceful childhood that he hadn't lived through.
But that peace also came with scorn, insults and bullying.
Just about every person within the Mo family had taken their turn in picking on Mo Yangling as he was growing up.
This made the child's disdain for cultivation even worse.
He had never grown strong, he had never managed to develop into his own man either, not with the constant shelter and unconditional love he received from his mother.
As much as he grieved the loss of not being able to meet her, the Monk also saw the faults in her actions.
In a sense, she only did her best to give her child a good life. But her deep love and misguided care had unintentionally set him up for failure.
And the moment he was banished and no longer under the Mo Clan's protection, he was quickly chewed up by their cruel world.
She knew it would happen as well, she likely understood that some of the fault lied on her, which was why she had also passed from the shock of it.
As a parent, having even the slightest hint or connection to your child's demise was the same as receiving an icepick to the head.
At the end of the day, a weak and timid child was the easiest to push around by despicable people.
The Monk had also been like that once, despicable that is.
He was in no place to judge the children for their bullying, nor did he take it to heart.
He only hoped that they would all grow up nicely, filled with happiness and free of suffering.
As for the bandits... The monk believed that Karma would take care of that eventually regardless if it hadn't already.
If, on the other hand, they were spared by fate, may they pray that they never meet the monk who had taken over the body of the child they had hunted down and slaughtered like an animal.
For the nature of all men was selfish, but he was even worse...
'Amitabha, if the great heavens allow it, then may the souls of the mother and child reunite in the afterlife...'
The Monk muttered a short prayer for the souls of the deceased child and the loving mother as he finished his meditation.
The Monk slowly opened his eyes after a while, his gaze meeting with one person he had expected to see least.
"Elder Ling, was it? What is it that you want from me?"
Mo Yangling placed his palms on his knees, slowly pushing himself to stand up before rolling his shoulders, warming up his joints.
The Grand Elder of the Mo Family blinked a few times, once again revelling in how composed the youngster in front of him was.
The Monk hadn't built much of an impression on the old man standing in front of him.
He only knew what he knew from memories, he had otherwise acted with tact in their prior meeting.
The Monk was slightly disappointed, as he had expected that the person who would approach him first would be his 'Father'. But it seemed that the man was nowhere to be seen.
The Grand Elder studied the monk for a moment, trying to understand what type of cultivation method the monk was practising.
'Seems to be a Wood-Nature Cultivation Art... The Mo Family mostly focuses on flame and sword arts, so it's safe to assume he gained quite a bit of treasure while outside...'
Mo Liang couldn't tell what the level of the technique was, but he assumed it to be quite high from how the flowers around the monk were reacting.
'Whatever, the flowers will wither soon anyway, Wood Nature Cultivation is but a pale imitation of how Demonic Beasts manipulate Origin Energy...'
The Grand Elder quickly stopped caring about the Monk's 'inferior' cultivation arts, he wasn't there to give him pointers on his cultivation anyway.
Only when Mo Yangling stood up again did the Grand Elder realize how much he had grown. From a scrawny child to a towering muscle-bound warrior.
The two of them were around the same height, around 1.85 meters, so it felt odd for the Grand Elder to keep eye contact with the younger man whilst at the same level.
"I only want one thing... The protective treasure you used to withstand the pressure I exuded earlier."