The Peacock Mausoleum during the day presents a completely different atmosphere from the night.

The scorching sun pierced through the clouds and poured down from the sky, shining on its swarthy square body, reflecting the stones in layers of golden light, solemn and inviolable.

And the black on it has become more intense, like condensed ink, and like an undercurrent surging under the water. The nine peacocks seemed to be alive, their positions changing invisibly, and the fierce light in their eyes was even worse.

The square entrance to the mausoleum, like a giant mouth, is waiting for the arrival of guests hungrily, which makes people shudder.

In front of the mausoleum, there were more local residents bowing to the ground than yesterday, small and respectful.

The sound of chanting around is one after another, chaotic, like a lively public sauna, forming a grand aura.

The innermost monks who were meditating cross-legged did not change, and I noticed that all of them were sitting in the same position as yesterday, apparently reciting the scriptures all night long, and had not moved at all.

Buddhism advocates asceticism, while Indian Buddhism takes asceticism and asceticism to the extreme.

According to news reports, an Indian dervish has held his right arm high for more than 50 years. So much so that the bone knot died, the muscles atrophied, and the arm had turned into a rather terrifying-looking dead wood.

If this kind of perseverance is not supported by pious faith, ordinary people would not even dare to think about it, let alone do it.

Guru Warren and Little Shaman Summit did not sit in the monks' circle, but stood outside the crowd, apparently waiting for our arrival. I saw that behind Master Warren stood a thin old man.

I saw that this person was only about 1.6 meters tall, with a dark complexion and a withered shape, and he couldn't tell his age, but he was obviously more than ten years older than Master Hua Lun, who was in his fifties.

He was also dressed in a ginger monk's robe, and the robes were in tatters, with exposed holes everywhere, and there was not even a quick patch. The hair was coiled high, black and white, curly, and simply tied with a brownish-yellow hemp rope.

The wrinkled face was expressionless, and the forehead was painted with an unknown amount of oil paint. The beard was extremely long, also black and white, and hung down on the chest. He wears a string of long Buddhist beads around his neck and holds a rusty Mitsubishi iron fork in his hand.

This iron fork is short and thick, like the trident of the sea emperor Poseidon in Greek mythology, but there is no long rod, leaving only a fork head, and there is a short handle under the fork head, which looks quite weird, I don't know what kind of magic weapon it is.

We went up and greeted Guru Warren and Little Shaman. Master Warren introduced that this is his eldest apprentice, named Kunal, who will enter the secret array with us this time.

Kunal stretched out a hand, five fingers to the sky, and saluted us, his face still expressionless, and his old eyes were like stagnant water.

I was a little surprised, no matter how you look at it, this Kunale is much older than Master Warren, but I didn't expect it to be his eldest apprentice. However, the master and apprentice are just the title of the family, and in essence, it has nothing to do with age.

The sun was scorching in the morning, and India was a hot tropical region, so after standing for a while, everyone's foreheads were sweating, and they felt like they were in an oven.

I looked at the time, and it was already ten o'clock in the morning, so I asked Master Warren when that little auspicious day would come.

Master Warren looked up at the sky and was silent, and after a long time, a smile suddenly appeared on his face, and he said in a loud voice that the Holy Maiden was here.

He held out a hand and pointed to the west. We looked in the direction of his finger, and sure enough, above the horizon of the heat wave, a group of people suddenly appeared.

With the help of the clear sky and the excellent vision brought by the eyes of the earth, I saw that there were quite a few people in this group, in their twenties and thirties. Without exception, they wore white coarse cloth wide shirts, and their bodies were scareless seven-minute long white trousers.

This dress looks like a common filial piety dress in the Celestial Empire, which is only worn when performing funerals. The group was bald and wore no hats, a red coarse cloth belt around their waists, and their feet wore sandals with Indian characteristics, which were red and white, which was quite eye-catching.

Although it was broad daylight, the four people at the head were all holding torches, and most of the people behind them were carrying wooden sticks. As they marched, the sticks clattered rhythmically against the ground.

All of them were chanting, sometimes raising their arms and shouting, sometimes cheering in unison, and the route of progress was not straight, but winding and circling like a snake, in a roundabout and gradual way.

In the center of the procession, is a small, standard-square black palanquin. At first glance, this sedan chair is made of wooden boards, painted with black paint, simple and windowless, with red sedan flowers hanging on the top of the sedan chair and a white curtain hanging at the door of the sedan chair.

Different from the common double-pole four-lift sedan chair in the Celestial Empire, this black sedan chair only has a thick wooden rod that runs through the sedan body, which is carried by the six sedan chair drivers in front and behind, shaking, obviously not in line with the principle of ergonomics, and the ride may not be too comfortable.

I looked at the fat man and the amorous man, and I was surprised and wanted to laugh at the same time, I don't know what the hell this is.

It took nearly half an hour for this group of people to come to us. The crowd prostrating in front of the mausoleum began to stir, and the sound of monks chanting scriptures suddenly stopped.

When the sedan chair landed, Master Hua Lun and Xiao Shamen walked forward quickly, knelt two meters in front of the sedan chair in a proper manner, kowtowed to the ground, and shouted something.

This is an Indian dialect, we don't understand it, presumably it should be to welcome the sect leader out of the customs or something. cough cough cough ...... I'm sorry, it's on stage, it should be "Congratulations to the arrival of the saint".

With Master Warren's shout, the crowd and monks behind us also bowed in the direction of the palanquin, shouting in unison, and the tsunami of the mountains and the tsunami startled me, the fat man, and the stammering monk.

Although we follow the customs of the locals, as cultivators of the Celestial Empire, we will definitely not follow the trend and worship any saints.

Besides, our Chinese culture is different from Indian culture, and we attach great importance to kneeling, and there is a way to "kneel to heaven and earth, kneel down to parents", and Indian saints or something.

But after all, as a guest, I can't lose my courtesy, I made a look at the fat man and the amorous, and the three of them hugged their fists and bowed their hands, and the right was a salute. At the same time, I was curious in my heart, and I really wanted to see this so-called holy Maiden Xima, where the little auspicious heaven is sacred.

The sound of the mountain and tsunami gradually subsided, and after waiting for ten seconds, I heard a delicate and beautiful female voice suddenly come out of the sedan chair: "Su Bai, Liu Dazhuang, Sun Zhi, three Taoist friends, the deity is polite......"

My jaw almost hit the top of my foot!

This voice is not only standard, the words are correct and round Chinese Mandarin, but also the names of all three of us are spoken, which simply scares me!

This little auspicious day, Hima Holy Maiden, is it ...... Could it be Chinese?!!!