Tiantai’s ripples are hard to miss across the tapestry of Chinese Buddhism. Its hallmark approach—systematically slotting every teaching into a “Five Periods, Eight Teachings” framework—offered later schools a handy roadmap for navigating a dizzying array of sutras and commentaries.

Chan (Zen) borrowed more than a nod from Tiantai’s spotlight on direct insight. That emphasis on “sudden awakening,” first championed by Zhiyi, laid the groundwork for Chan’s own flash-of-light realization stories. Underneath those cryptic koans, there still lies a Tiantai-inspired conviction that mind and Buddha-nature are inseparable right here, right now.

Pure Land devotees found common ground in Tiantai’s insistence that even the simplest practice—repeating Amitābha’s name—could be nestled within a grand cosmic scheme. Tiantai treated faith and devotion not as a sidelight but as an integral path, making it easier for Pure Land masters to shake off any stigma of lower-tier devotion.

Huayan’s dazzling metaphysics—interpenetration of all phenomena—echoes Tiantai’s “threefold truth” (emptiness, provisional reality, the middle way). Each school spun its own kaleidoscope, yet the underpinning belief that every teaching point reflects the whole cosmos feels distinctly Tiantai.

Even modern Chinese practitioners, scrolling through meditation apps or joining weekday sutra recitations in Taipei, often encounter Tiantai’s clear-cut doctrinal charts. These tools keep popping up in academic syllabi, digital forums and retreat programs, proving that Zhiyi’s brainchild still resonates in an era of information overload.

Tiantai’s true gift might be its bridge-building spirit—no teaching tossed aside as inferior, no practice left out in the cold. That open-handed inclusivity has helped Chinese Buddhism stay remarkably adaptable, whether in ancient Tang–Song debates or today’s online Dharma salons. This ability to weave unity from diversity? That’s a legacy worth its weight in gold.