It's not a sudden change, but rather as if it was always like this, forever like this, with no living being noticing anything amiss.
Similarly.
Every Buddha Statue in this universe became the body of its own tributor.
That is, the body receiving incense and tributes.
Thousands of scenes disappeared abruptly, and when clarity returned, it was inside a grand hall.
The hall was pure and desolate, with smoke curling from the incense burners. There wasn't any incense guest around, just a young monk quietly sweeping the floor, wiping away the dust.
The subtle sound of the broom brushing against the ground echoed inside the hall.
Suddenly, a wind blew, gently stirring the scripture banners on either side. The young monk looked up in astonishment, glancing back at the tightly closed hall doors—
If the doors were shut, where did the wind come from?
