Chapter 25: The Overlord of the Martial Arts Hall

With a long, rhythmic breath, Meng Qi’s internal energy originated from the dantian, passed through the three gates, flowed through the Mingmen, entered the Niwan, and finally converged at the Shanzhong, cascading down like snowfall, as rivers return to the sea.

After several cycles of this practice, Meng Qi gradually grasped the essential techniques of the “Shaolin Internal Method.” He then directed the energy downward and opened his eyes.

At this moment, Xuan Chi, who had just taught him the method, had already vanished without a trace. Outside the meditation chamber, the sound of fists striking flesh echoed.

Meng Qi’s heart stirred. He stood up and prepared to leave the meditation chamber and enter the Grand Martial Hall.

This was not because he neglected internal cultivation, but because aside from patrol or guard duties, he could only access the precept blade and practice sword techniques in the Grand Martial Hall. As for circulating energy through the dantian to enhance his internal power, he could do that later after returning to his dormitory following the hall’s closing.

“Little junior brother, shall we go out together?” Meng Qi noticed Zhen Hui had also opened his eyes and casually asked.

Zhen Hui’s face was rosy, his eyes hazy, as if he had just woken up. Embarrassed by Meng Qi’s question, he replied, “Brother senior, that ‘hot rat’ exercise is really fun. I want to practice the internal method a bit longer.”

“Hmm, you’re at the stage of laying the foundation. Try to open your dantian as soon as possible,” Meng Qi smiled and pushed open the door of the meditation chamber, returning to the hall.

In a corner on the left side of the Grand Martial Hall stood a rack of weapons, mainly long staffs and precept blades, interspersed with a few long swords. Around it stood four yellow-robed supervising monks, ensuring no injuries occurred during sparring.

Meng Qi scanned the area and saw Zhen Yong locked in an intense exchange of Luohan Fist techniques. He decided not to interrupt and instead walked directly to the weapon rack, selecting an unsharpened precept blade. He tested its weight, assumed a stance, and slowly and clumsily practiced the “Five Tigers Severing the Gate Blade Method” taught by Qi Xia.

A supervising monk nearby noticed Meng Qi practicing the blade and instinctively narrowed his eyes, his gaze sharp and piercing. After watching for a while, realizing Meng Qi was merely practicing the most basic and common blade technique, he shook his head and turned his attention back to the monks sparring elsewhere.

Meng Qi executed each movement, gradually forgetting his surroundings and immersing himself in his own world of blade techniques. His blade slashed like the wind, graceful and free, as he constantly referred to the manual, correcting his mistakes.

Not knowing how much time had passed, a thin layer of sweat appeared on Meng Qi’s forehead. He sheathed his blade and carefully reflected on his gains.

“Phew, if I can make this much progress every day, I should be able to master this blade method in about a month,” Meng Qi exhaled, secretly delighted, and resumed his stance, swinging the precept blade again.

This time, Meng Qi’s “Five Tigers Severing the Gate Blade Method” appeared quite chaotic because his focus had shifted to his footwork. The blade technique was merely a cover to hide his practice of the “Eight Steps of Divine Movement,” so the supervising monks wouldn’t notice.

Half an hour later, Meng Qi, who had a good memory, had mostly memorized the footwork of the “Eight Steps of Divine Movement.” Combined with his internal energy, he found it not difficult to gather energy and leap. However, he still felt far from even grasping the basics, as if there was a veil separating him, hazy and impenetrable. At this point, he could only remember the complex steps, which were practically useless.

“It seems I need to practice in actual combat to grasp the essence of this footwork,” Meng Qi thought, feeling both mentally and physically exhausted after an evening of training. He returned the precept blade to the weapon rack and walked toward Zhen Yong.

“Phew, have you mastered the ‘Shaolin Internal Method,’ Brother Zhen Ding?” Zhen Yong half-bent his body, hands resting on his knees, panting heavily after several sparring sessions that had drained his energy.

Meng Qi smiled and replied, “Brother Zhen Yong, have you forgotten that I’ve already opened my dantian?”

“Oh right, look at my forgetful mind!” Zhen Yong patted his bald head and slowly straightened his back. “Are we heading back to the dorm now?”

The monks’ quarters in the Shaolin Martial Hall were two per room, and Meng Qi and Zhen Hui lived next door to Zhen Yong.

Meng Qi nodded and was about to suggest calling Zhen Hui when he suddenly saw a tall, muscular monk violently collide with another monk.

With a slap, the thinner martial monk was pushed back several steps, looking at the other in shock and anger. Before he could speak, the tall monk shouted aggressively, “You dared to bump into me? Do you want to spar with me? Fine, let’s spar!”

The thinner monk’s face turned pale, showing clear fear, but surprisingly, he did not refuse. He assumed a stance and engaged the tall, aggressive monk in combat.

As expected, the thin monk was quickly overwhelmed by the muscular monk, receiving a brutal beating. He staggered toward the Grand Martial Hall’s entrance with a bruised face and a bloody nose.

Meanwhile, the bully monk proudly waved his fists, boasting to his companions.

Meng Qi watched in astonishment for a while before regaining his composure. He turned to Zhen Yong and asked, “Is this allowed?”

With eight supervising monks watching, how could he dare commit such malicious provocation and beat another monk? And the beaten monk didn’t even seek help! Where was the Shaolin discipline?

Although it was common for conflicts to arise wherever people gathered, Meng Qi had thought that Shaolin, as a sacred Buddhist place, would at least maintain some level of decorum, even if not entirely free of corruption.

Zhen Yong whispered, “His dharma name is Zhen Liang. He joined the temple three years ago and recently reached the early stage of qi accumulation. He especially enjoys bullying the weak using the hall’s rules.”

“Rules?” Meng Qi asked in confusion.

Zhen Yong chuckled, “It’s a rule we set ourselves. Any monk in the Grand Martial Hall must not refuse a sparring challenge from any other monk present. After all, if someone attacks you on the martial world, you can’t just say, ‘I don’t want to fight you,’ can you? It’s meant to help us get used to forced combat situations in advance. However, the temple has made distinctions. Monks nearing the completion of qi accumulation are not allowed to enter here; there’s a separate martial hall exclusively for them.”

“Zhen Liang exploits this rule, choosing monks he has conflicts with for sparring. As for bumping into people, it’s considered a reasonable provocation within the Grand Martial Hall, helping monks get used to such situations and control their emotional fluctuations.”

Meng Qi nodded, finally understanding, “But shouldn’t the supervising monks be able to tell whether the sparring is malicious or not?”

“I heard Zhen Liang has an older brother in the Discipline Hall…” Zhen Yong whispered, “So as long as he doesn’t violate the discipline, the supervising monks tend to turn a blind eye. He’s practically the king of the Grand Martial Hall.”

Thinking of the struggling monks in the labor hall, Meng Qi snorted, “How could such a person be admitted to the martial monks’ hall? I thought Master Xuan Ku was a truly upright person!”

“It’s said that Master Xuan Ku only oversaw the first few batches, and the subsequent selections were made by other supervising monks. Anyway, when the masters come to choose their disciples later, they will consider daily performance,” Zhen Yong said without prejudice toward Xuan Ku.

Reflecting on his earlier judgment, Meng Qi narrowed his eyes and looked at Zhen Liang, who was loudly chatting with others.

“Hehe, what I need most is actual sparring practice, and I was just worried about finding a suitable partner!” Suddenly, he strode toward Zhen Liang.

The pressure of death in the cycle world left him with no room for hesitation. Even if he were expelled from Shaolin because of this, it would fulfill his wish.

Seeing Meng Qi approach Zhen Liang, Zhen Yong was momentarily confused but merely watched his back with slight bewilderment.

“Hmph, he still refuses to help me clean the yard,” Zhen Liang glared toward the hall entrance.

A nearby monk chuckled, “He doesn’t know how formidable Brother Zhen Liang is. Who in the entire Grand Martial Hall can match you?”

“Haha, just because I usually appear kind, they think I’m easy to deal with?” Zhen Liang laughed loudly.

At that moment, Meng Qi reached his side, shoved him with his shoulder, and with a slap, pushed him away.

Zhen Liang took several steps back, staring at Meng Qi in disbelief. Usually, he was the one who bullied others, but today, someone actually dared to provoke him?

Meng Qi half-smiled, switched his hands, clenched his fists, and looked at Zhen Liang, saying, “You dared to bump into me? Do you want to spar with me? Fine, let’s spar!”

Huh?

The reversal shocked Zhen Liang, and his companions looked at Meng Qi in disbelief. Where did this little monk come from? He looked delicate and gentle, so how could he be so reckless?

Wasn’t he too bold?

Zhen Yong’s expression changed, and he was about to step forward to stop them, but suddenly remembering that even the teaching monk Zhen Miao had lost to Zhen Ding that afternoon, he slowed his steps and watched the two with a smile.

“Damn it! Bastard!” Zhen Liang snapped back to his senses, his anger flaring. He was the one who always bullied others; how could someone dare to provoke him!

He mimicked Meng Qi, clenching his fists and producing a cracking sound from his knuckles, snarling, “Fine, let’s spar! If you don’t beg for mercy crying, I’ll be your junior brother!”

The supervising monks around them remained indifferent, as if no conflict had occurred.

As soon as the words were spoken, Zhen Liang charged at Meng Qi, his attack forceful and powerful.

Half an incense stick later, Meng Qi landed several punches on the fallen Zhen Liang. Amid the shocked and bewildered expressions of the surrounding monks, he stood up leisurely, brushing dust off his monk’s robe, saying calmly, “My apologies. Oh, junior brother, you still need more practice.”

In the earlier exchange, Meng Qi first focused on mastering the “Eight Steps of Divine Movement” and the “Luohan Fist,” which initially proved quite challenging. Zhen Liang was thrilled, almost seeing Meng Qi being beaten into submission. However, as Meng Qi gradually gained proficiency, he launched a fierce counterattack, leveraging his Iron Shirt technique and the aura of life-and-death combat, quickly knocking Zhen Liang down and giving him a severe beating.

“Brother… junior…” Zhen Liang growled through gritted teeth, unable to believe he had lost. Just moments ago, he had been clearly dominating. How could this little monk suddenly transform into a ferocious beast, his punches bouncing off Meng Qi like gentle caresses?

Meng Qi glanced down at Zhen Liang and remarked, “Hmm, junior brother still seems unconvinced? Shall we go another round?”

Faced with someone even more menacing than himself, Zhen Liang could only grit his teeth, saying nothing as he slowly stood up.

Meng Qi had now mastered the Luohan Fist and vaguely grasped some essence of the “Eight Steps of Divine Movement,” feeling relaxed and invigorated. He looked around, eager to find another partner for practice.

With a rush, the surrounding monks scattered like birds and beasts.

“What a lack of face…” Meng Qi shook his head, looking again at the bruised Zhen Liang.

Zhen Liang suddenly shivered involuntarily, without thinking, turned, and ran away.

“Brother Zhen Ding, your martial arts skills are truly impressive,” Zhen Yong came forward to praise him, while Zhen Hui had also exited the meditation chamber.

Thus, Meng Qi suppressed his fighting spirit and returned to the dormitory with them to cultivate the “Shaolin Internal Method.”

The next day, it was again water-carrying, character-recognition, and martial arts training. Near the end, Zhen Miao stood before Meng Qi with his hands behind his back: “Brother Zhen Ding, are you ready?”

“Ready,” Meng Qi replied calmly, stepping out of the line. Facing a strong opponent both excited and pressured him.