nyslfriends Chapter 370 The Palace of Silent Hearts
Chapter 370 The Palace of Silent Hearts
There was not a single shadow in the space.
The light, seemingly from nowhere, fell evenly on every corner, as if it had been repeatedly refracted by countless invisible mirrors.
A thin, light mist floated in the air, drifting and ethereal.
Hundreds of white prayer cushions were neatly arranged on the ground, in concentric circles, all facing the same direction.
In the center of the hall stands a white stone statue.
The stone statue is depicted in a seated posture as a practitioner, with hands clasped together and head bowed. Three things are clinging tightly to it:
Atop its head, a crown of thorns hangs, the sharp spikes deeply embedded in the stone statue's skull, dark red liquid seeping from the cracks and slowly sliding down its forehead—a horrifying sight.
Heavy gold chains were wrapped around his entire body, from his shoulders and neck to his waist and abdomen, each one cutting into the texture of his stone.
A female demon statue with a human body and a snake tail tightly coiled around the waist and hips. Her upper body was alluring and seductive, while her snake tail coiled and bound her like a living creature, sticking to the stone statue stickily.
........................
Studio:
"Good heavens, the crown represents power, gold represents money, and the banshee represents lust. Isn't that the three essentials of life? Meditating here will only lead to more suffering."
"I was just thinking that meditating here must be very peaceful, but upon closer inspection: I'm tied up, bound, and wrapped up. Hmm, it is indeed peaceful, the kind of peaceful where you can't move."
"It appears pure and clean, but inside it is full of the darkest desires, creating a strong sense of contrast."
"A light source without shadows...is the space itself a metaphor for 'nowhere to escape'?"
........................
Xia Ning stood at the palace entrance, her cool voice echoing in the pure white space:
"This is the Silent Heart Palace."
She paused, her gaze sweeping over the crowd.
"On the path of spiritual cultivation, the most important thing is one's state of mind."
"External disturbances and inner distractions are all obstacles to the path."
"The design of this hall is to teach you to—quiet down."
She turned to the side, gesturing for everyone to look at the ethereal mist within the hall.
"Illusions may appear in the fog to tempt you."
"Perhaps it is something you have been longing for but could not obtain, or perhaps it is your deepest obsession."
"Remember—" her voice carried a subtle undertone, "Never be tempted."
"Once you lose yourself, you'll be stuck here forever."
The voice just fell.
From the depths of the fog, a soft laugh could be faintly heard.
A woman's laughter.
It was very light and soft, as if it came through the ripples of water, drifting and ethereal, yet carrying a certain alluring charm.
"Come on..."
"Come here..."
Laughter echoed from different directions, one after another, as if countless unseen women were moving, playing, and waving through the mist.
Several young chosen ones in the group turned pale instantly.
Someone instinctively took a step back, only to be bumped by their companion behind them.
Some people's breathing quickened, their eyes widened, and they stared intently at a certain direction deep within the fog, involuntarily taking half a step forward—
"Amitabha."
A single Buddhist chant, steady as a mountain, abruptly severed the traces of seductive allure.
Everyone looked in the direction of the sound.
The speaker was a monk dressed in a dark red robe, with a dark complexion, deep-set features, and a serene air about him, typical of someone living at the foot of a snow-capped mountain.
He clasped his hands together and nodded slightly to the crowd.
"This humble monk, Amirka, comes from the Kingdom of Nibo."
"Esteemed benefactors, please quickly take your seats on the prayer mats. Concentrate your mind and calm your spirit; do not listen, do not look, do not think."
As if waking from a dream, everyone hurriedly scattered and found a prayer mat to sit down.
Amirka sat cross-legged in the center of the crowd, closed his eyes, and began to recite scriptures softly.
"Om—Ah—Moo—"
As the chanting of sutras began, the laughter of the women in the mist gradually subsided.
Everyone breathed a long sigh of relief.
Throughout the entire process, three people remained completely still.
Lin Feng stood at the back of the line, hands in his pockets, his expression calm as if he hadn't heard a sound.
Beside him, Evelyn's icy blue eyes merely glanced at the depths of the mist before looking away, even with a hint of boredom.
On the other side, Wasim stood with his arms crossed, as if watching a low-class performance.
Xia Ning's gaze shifted from the seated group to the three people.
Finally, his gaze fell on Lin Feng, and the corner of his lips curled up almost imperceptibly.
........................
Laughter rang out again from the depths of the fog.
It wasn't the same fawning smile that had been rising and falling just now.
This time, there was only one voice, very soft and faint—
"Amin..."
The young man from the country of straw hats, who had been keeping his head down, suddenly raised his face.
His name is Ruan Wenming, he is 24 years old. After graduating from high school, he failed to get into university and started selling rice noodles on the street.
When he was pulled into the ghost story, he was holding a bowl and asking the customer if they wanted scallions.
He sat cross-legged on the futon, and the moment he heard that call, he felt as if he had been nailed to the spot.
"Amin..."
Something is taking shape on the futon beside me.
First, there was a section of white skirt, then a pair of sandals.
It was white, made of plastic, and the heel rubbed against her feet a bit, so she always had to be carried by him after walking for a long time.
Then comes the face.
She has short, ear-length hair and a dimple on her left cheek when she smiles.
Her eyes were curved, and she was looking at him.
Xiao He.
His high school deskmate.
In April of their senior year of high school, the teaching building was being renovated, and their class was temporarily moved to the old laboratory building for classes.
That afternoon was a self-study period, and she took him to the rooftop for some fresh air.
"Amin, look." She leaned on the railing and pointed into the distance, "Isn't that the Saigon River over there? The sun is setting, it must be very beautiful."
He stood behind her, looking down as well.
The railings are rusted.
The school has said many times that it would fix it, but it hasn't been done yet.
He stood there, watching her back, still thinking about how to ask her to go to the movies on the weekend.
The sound of rusting was very soft, as soft as stepping on a withered leaf.
He reached out, but grasped nothing.
Her white dress fell down, and one of her plastic sandals came off mid-air.
She turned around, her eyes filled not with resentment, but with a hint of confusion, as if asking him—
Why didn't you stop me?
He stood there, his hand still outstretched, empty.
Later, the school paid compensation, and Xiaohe's parents didn't blame him, but he himself couldn't get over it anymore.
He failed all his subjects and never saw that river again.
At that moment, Xiao He was sitting on the futon next to him.
She tilted her head to look at him.
"Amin, I've been waiting for you for so long." She smiled, reached out, and gently touched his face.
That hand was warm.
It wasn't the illusory coolness of a fantasy; it was real, warm, like the hand he had secretly held that summer.
Ruan Wenming's eyes reddened.
He didn't hide.
He just stared at that face, as if looking at that afternoon he could never go back to in this lifetime.
Amirka's chanting is still ringing out.
"Om—Ah—Moo—"
The voice was as steady as a mountain, the surrounding mist was thinning, and the seductive laughter was fading away.
But Xiaohe didn't lose her senses; in fact, her vision became even clearer.
Because it wasn't an illusion created by the fog.
That's something in his heart.
Scripture can dispel external demons, but it cannot dispel the shadow that a person has been hiding for six years.
A nearby chosen one noticed the commotion, opened his eyes, and tried to pull him away—
Ruan Wenming has stood up.
He glanced back, and in that glance there was no fear, no struggle, only something very strange—
Like a drowning person who finally floated to the surface to take a breath.
Just then, a line of bright red, glaring notification suddenly appeared before his eyes, each word heavy with meaning:
【Ruan Wenming, return to the meditation cushion immediately! Guard your mind! Think of your country, think of your family! Don't be deceived by illusions!】
Ruan Wenming paused slightly, looked at the line of red text, and chuckled softly.
The smile was calm, almost serene.
There was no turning back, no hesitation.
He resolutely turned around and walked step by step into the depths of the fog.
Xiao He walked ahead of him, her white skirt swaying in the mist.
She would glance back at him every now and then, just like in high school, urging him on.
"Hurry up, Amin."
"The sun will set if we don't come soon."