Chapter 117: Yuanmeng’s Last Letter

The yellow walls and black tiles, the chanting of scriptures and the calls of Buddha, the serene halls and pavilions, all seemed to be far removed from the mundane world.

Meng Qi wore the robes, socks, and shoes of a monk, all spotless and clean, as if he had just returned from a bath. Leisurely enjoying this rare tranquility, he followed Duan Xiangfei through the temple gate to meet the reception monk.

“You wish to inquire about Master Yuanmeng?” The reception monk was a clean-faced, articulate young monk who had a good understanding of the abbots of the past few generations.

“Yes,” replied Duan Xiangfei with a sigh. “When I was young, Master Yuanmeng gifted me a talisman, which has often shown miraculous effects. Now that I am old and returning home, I wish to pay homage to Master Yuanmeng and make a donation to your temple.”

The reception monk suddenly exclaimed, “You are Master Duan Xiangfei?”

“Ah, you know me, Master?” Duan Xiangfei was astonished. These events were decades ago. Meng Qi also looked surprised, but considering the strange nature of the Jade Buddha incident, such shock was somewhat expected.

Smiling, the reception monk said, “Before Master Yuanmeng’s passing, he left a letter, saying that if you came with someone else, I should give this letter to the person beside you—the one who received the talisman.”

Could Master Yuanmeng really foresee such things? Meng Qi was shaken again, increasingly feeling that the Jade Buddha incident was shrouded in mystery, concealing a great secret.

Duan Xiangfei was silent for a long time, seemingly unwilling to believe that the once ordinary Master Yuanmeng could be so extraordinary. Finally, with a sigh, he asked, “Where is the letter?”

“It’s in the scripture pavilion. Please follow me, Master Duan.” Since Meng Qi was dressed as a monk, the reception monk addressed him as “Master.”

The Bodhi trees were lush and green, casting serene shadows. As they walked, Meng Qi inquired further about Master Yuanmeng.

The reception monk did not hide anything and explained, “Master Yuanmeng was an orphan, brought to the temple as a child. He was unremarkable in his youth, even dull-witted. But around the age of thirty, he suddenly awakened, spending ten years in the scripture pavilion, deeply studying the sutras and comprehending the essence of Chan. Later, due to his profound knowledge of Buddhism, he became the abbot of our temple. At the moment of his passing, golden lotuses and golden lamps appeared, the sound of chanting and scriptures echoed, and the eight treasures descended from the heavens.”

“After his passing, he left no relics, but the senior monks of the temple all said he had attained the Arhat stage.”

It sounded like the usual praise for a high monk. Meng Qi, having often seen golden lotuses and chanting sounds around senior monks, was not particularly surprised by such phenomena at the time of Yuanmeng’s passing.

As he pondered, the reception monk had already led Meng Qi into the scripture pavilion, asking them to wait on the first floor while he went upstairs to retrieve the letter.

After a while, the reception monk came down with an old letter and handed it directly to Meng Qi.

Meng Qi thanked him and carefully opened the yellowed paper, which contained only a few words in bold, flowing calligraphy:

“Where lies the Vulture Peak?”

“Where lies the Vulture Peak?” Meng Qi repeated, puzzled. What did Master Yuanmeng mean, and how was it related to the Jade Buddha?

Duan Xiangfei, seeing the letter, was equally confused.

Meng Qi composed himself and clasped his palms: “Amitabha Buddha, Brother Reception, may this humble monk stay here for a while?”

He planned to explore Master Yuanmeng’s “footsteps” to see if there were further clues to understand the true meaning of the words.

With Duan Xiangfei making a generous donation, the reception monk had no objection and arranged accommodations for Meng Qi, Duan Xiangfei, Duan Mingcheng, and others.

…

In the following days, Meng Qi used his time to refine the acupoints related to his hearing and constantly recalled the sound of divine thunder in meditation.

The thunder was majestic and awe-inspiring, resonating deep within him, capable of cleansing his ears. Although he could only rely on memory, capturing but a fraction of its true essence, it still made his ear acupoints feel increasingly loosened.

Moreover, Che Wanshu came daily to spar with Meng Qi in sword techniques. Gradually, he no longer needed to rely on the “Falling into the Mundane” technique to defeat her, instead integrating his sword techniques into a unified whole, becoming nearly equal to Che Wanshu’s “Falling Snow Blade.” His sword skills improved significantly. This progress was also a form of refinement. Combined with sparring against Duan Xiangfei in terms of spirit and technique, Meng Qi felt increasingly close to opening his ear acupoints.

Yet something still felt missing, preventing him from fully breaking through.

One day, after practicing the Golden Bell Shield, the Illusory Body Technique, and the Muscle Transformation and Bone Tempering methods, Meng Qi was about to study the “Yama Note” and find someone to spar with when Duan Xiangfei entered, smiling broadly.

“What good news, Old Duan?” Meng Qi teased.

Duan Xiangfei chuckled: “Master, you wanted to test your sword against a Grandmaster—another one has come looking for you!”

The news of Master Zhen Ding’s duel with “Falling Snow Blade” Che Wanshu had spread rapidly throughout the martial arts world, stirring excitement and awe. For Grandmasters seeking to advance further, fighting someone who had transcended human limits was one of the few viable paths. As long as their hearts had not given up, they would inevitably come.

Anticipating this, Meng Qi had calmly stayed at Changhua Temple instead of chasing leads himself, which would have wasted time.

“Which Grandmaster is it this time?” Meng Qi asked with a smile.

Duan Xiangfei grinned like a sly old fox: “An old acquaintance—Luo Qing. The monk of sorrow and hardship is meditating in stillness and cannot come. Wu Caisha lives in the southernmost regions, and it would take two months for the news to reach her. Gai Yuan’s whereabouts have been unknown for two years. The only one who can come is him.”

Luo Qing, the Sword God in White… Meng Qi nodded thoughtfully. It was time to test his sword techniques again. But as he thought of Luo Qing, he recalled something: “Old Duan, you must have already taken the treasures of the Snow Palace, right?”

Duan Xiangfei’s face reddened slightly: “There were two copies of the treasure map. One was divided into four pieces, entrusted to the Four Guardians. The other was kept by the son of the Palace Master—myself. After I had cultivated enough to protect myself, I retrieved the treasure. Otherwise, how could I have easily become a Grandmaster and secretly rebuilt the Snow Palace?”

That made sense. Why would the treasure map be given to the Four Guardians but not to the Palace Master’s direct heir unless it was a safeguard? Meng Qi had no particular greed for the treasure. He patted his robe, grabbed the Red Sun Exorcism Blade, stepped out of his meditation room, and turned into the adjacent courtyard.

In the courtyard, Luo Qing stood beneath the Bodhi tree, his white robes as pure as snow, his long sword cold and sharp. His eyebrows were like flowing dragons, his nose like a hanging gallbladder—truly a striking figure.

“They say your blade techniques are divine, but I only believe half of it,” Luo Qing said simply. He had fought Meng Qi before, knew his skill level at the time, and knew he had one divine move. But “divine blade techniques” and “blade techniques that are divine” were very different.

Back then, Meng Qi had been the weaker one, relying only on “Severing the Pure” — the Pear Blossom Rain Needles couldn’t lock onto Luo Qing. But now, Meng Qi’s blade techniques had greatly improved, nearly integrating all he had learned. Though he couldn’t yet grasp sword principles like Jiang Zhimei and create new moves, he was close to the level of Zhang Yuanshan’s techniques. Facing Luo Qing again, he was calm and composed, smiling as he raised his blade horizontally: “I hope after this fight, you’ll believe the other half.”

He didn’t strike first, waiting for Luo Qing to initiate.

Luo Qing didn’t hesitate. He flicked his sword and thrust forward.

Instantly, it seemed as if the brilliant sunlight was absorbed into the blade. The entire courtyard was illuminated only by that sword, while the rest was pitch black.

The sword light surged, covering the sky and earth, terrifying in its intensity.

Meng Qi no longer felt panic as before. His eyes gleamed with golden light, his forehead pulsing as his spirit expanded. Suddenly, the mystery was gone. The sword slashed diagonally through the air, though Luo Qing himself was nowhere to be seen.

Yet Meng Qi vaguely sensed two possible positions of Luo Qing. His blade light surged forward, enveloping both spots.

Clang after clang, the sound of blade and sword clashing echoed continuously. Meng Qi and Luo Qing fought faster and faster, sending all the Bodhi leaves in the courtyard swirling into the air.

Che Wanshu had come early in the morning to learn from Meng Qi and now stood beside Duan Xiangfei, watching the battle. She murmured in admiration: “Even without using that divine blade move, Master Zhen Ding’s sword techniques are no less than ours.”

“Seeing Master Zhen Ding, I feel as if I’ve wasted decades of my life,” Duan Xiangfei said with self-deprecating humor.

Meng Qi wielded his blade with full mastery, feeling exhilarated and wanting to let out a long howl. This time, following the momentum, “Falling into the Mundane” erupted forth!

At the peak of martial cultivation, the joy of battle, the pinnacle of life—all were fused into the blade light, as if coming under the scrutiny of the boundary between mortals and gods!

This strike left Duan Xiangfei and Che Wanshu entranced and unable to contain themselves. Which Grandmaster hadn’t aspired to stand atop the world, defeating all heroes?

With a final clang, the blades ceased. Luo Qing stood still, stunned and defeated.

Meng Qi sheathed the Red Sun Exorcism Blade at his waist, clasped his palms, and said: “Amitabha Buddha, Master Luo, I’ve recently been pondering sword techniques. Would you mind exchanging a few moves with me?”

Without the Sacrificial Body Technique, he currently only had the power of one divine strike, so he planned to study sword techniques further.

Luo Qing composed his expression and coldly replied, “As you wish.”

As the loser, he had no right to choose.

Time passed quickly. Through diligent cultivation and sparring with Duan Xiangfei, Che Wanshu, and Luo Qing, Meng Qi’s blade techniques truly “entered the gate,” fully integrated. He had nearly mastered “Falling into the Mundane,” and though it still couldn’t match “Severing the Pure,” it was already a deadly move. His ear acupoints were increasingly distinct, as if waiting for the right moment to open on their own.

The essence of vitality and energy, because the seven orifices of eyes, ears, nose, and mouth had opened, and the inner world was beginning to form, would naturally open. Meng Qi did not rashly cultivate them, to avoid interfering with the opening of the acupoints.

Progress in the Golden Bell Shield and the Illusory Body Technique was slow, but his sword techniques advanced rapidly under Luo Qing’s sparring. He had roughly mastered the variations of the “Yama Note” and only needed practical application to perfect them. He had also begun to grasp the “Solitary Sword Nine Techniques,” needing only that final push.

“There are seven days left. Let me try the ‘Yama Note’ first. If my ear acupoints haven’t opened by then, I’ll take the ‘Heavenly Vision and Earthly Hearing Pill.'” That day, after finishing his practice, Meng Qi casually flipped through the “Solitary Sword Nine Techniques,” contemplating his plans.

After a while, he put the manual away, looked around at Duan Xiangfei, Che Wanshu, Luo Qing, and Duan Mingcheng waiting beside him, and suddenly smiled: “Esteemed patrons, would you like to hear what it takes to break the boundary between mortals and gods? Perhaps I can offer some insight.”

After a month of sparring, it was time to give something back and settle the karmic debt.

“Ahh?” Even the cunning Duan Xiangfei and the cold-faced Luo Qing, along with Che Wanshu and Duan Mingcheng, looked at Meng Qi with expressions of surprise, excitement, and hidden anticipation.