"This, merely twenty words, almost encapsulates the essence of cultivating Buddhism..." Master Huihai, staring at the Formless Gatha written on the wall, murmured softly with wide eyes.
Indeed, what is the meaning of cultivating Buddhism? Is it not just as written here: constantly wipe clean, let not dust settle, lest your mind be obscured by the mundane world?
"Excellent poem, merely twenty words, comparing oneself to the Bodhi Tree, and the heart to the Mingjing Platform, containing endless Buddhist principles, yet so simple and understandable," a scholar in tattered robes loudly admired next to him, incapable of composing such poetry himself, yet unimpeded in his appreciation.
"This, this..." As for Li Chunfeng, looking at the Formless Gatha on the wall, he was stunned like a wooden chicken.
His discernment was naturally present, and he understood even more what the poem implied.
