The dining hall of the novice monks was simple and old-fashioned, with wooden tables and benches, and the dim light illuminated the faces of the monks.
One could never know without looking, and would be startled upon seeing. Meng Qi only realized after entering the hall that there were dozens of novice monks, about fifty or sixty in total. Judging from this, the Shaolin Temple must have had thousands of monks.
Amidst the sea of gray robes, no one noticed Meng Qi and the other new novices. They sat on the benches waiting for the serving monks to bring in the food trays.
“Little junior brother, sit here.” Meng Qi, carrying a great secret and finding himself in unfamiliar surroundings, was delighted to have a simple-minded companion like Zhen Hui. With the mindset of an adult, he took good care of Zhen Hui, partly to ease his own anxiety in a strange place.
Zhen Hui’s expression remained serious, showing no signs of shyness, and sat down across from Meng Qi with ease, his eyes fixed on the nearby food tray.
“Is this kid so hungry he’s gone numb?” Meng Qi mumbled quietly, suspecting that Zhen Hui might be mentally slow, otherwise he wouldn’t be so dull.
Finally, the serving monks arrived at Meng Qi’s table with the food trays. As the lids were lifted, a fragrant aroma filled the air and reached their hearts.
“How fragrant!” Meng Qi couldn’t help exclaiming. Wondering in his heart, “Is it because Shaolin’s ‘head chef’ is really that good, or is it just because I’m too hungry?”
The serving monks bent down and took the food from the trays, placing it neatly on the table. Meng Qi looked closely and was immediately stunned. This… this might actually be meat?
In the center of the plain ceramic bowl was a fatty, oily, chunky substance—surely meat?
But this was a Buddhist temple!
Meng Qi couldn’t believe it and picked up his chopsticks to try a piece. But before he could, chopsticks from all directions—left, right, and diagonally across the table—darted in, and the suspected meat vanished in an instant. This table of novice monks was clearly no strangers to food fights.
Watching Zhen Hui chewing with oil smeared all over his mouth, Meng Qi became even more convinced of his suspicion. While marveling at their speed, he managed to grab a piece and put it into his mouth.
It was fatty but not greasy, melting in his mouth, an exquisite delicacy!
But damn it, it really was meat!
Meng Qi felt only a coarse exclamation could express his current feelings—both celebrating his good fortune and expressing his disbelief.
“Hey, little junior brother,” Meng Qi softly called to Zhen Hui.
Zhen Hui’s chopsticks flew rapidly, his mouth never stopping, his young face full of concentration: “Hmm?”
“This is meat!” Meng Qi felt he had a duty to warn his junior brother not to fall into temptation and violate the precepts.
Zhen Hui nodded sincerely, mumbling: “Yes, it’s meat.”
I’m not asking you… Meng Qi felt the conversation with Zhen Hui was a bit difficult.
At this moment, someone coldly said beside him: “Before ‘opening the orifices,’ only pungent and spicy foods are forbidden.”
“Isn’t ‘hun’ referring to meat?” Meng Qi instinctively asked, only then realizing that the person beside him was his “roommate” Zhen Guan.
Zhen Guan didn’t stop eating, replying with a hint of mockery: “You look like a nobleman’s son, yet you don’t even understand the word ‘hun’?”
This hit Meng Qi’s weak spot. He didn’t know how to respond for a moment. Suddenly, a young monk with clear features sitting diagonally in front laughed and said: “‘Hun’ and ‘Xin’ together refer to strong-flavored items like onions and garlic, not specifically meat. However, in the past century, people have often used ‘hun’ to refer to meat. It’s normal for a junior brother not to know this.”
Meng Qi nodded gratefully. The young novice monk continued: “Originally, our Buddhist sect only forbade killing and consuming strong flavors, not meat. Later, out of compassion, we gradually stopped eating meat. However, Shaolin is the greatest martial sect in the world, and our disciples often engage in physical strengthening. If we lacked meat and had no medicinal herbs or pills to supplement us, our health would inevitably suffer. Therefore, the ‘Shaolin Precepts’ state that before opening the orifices, disciples should follow their original intentions, only avoiding strong flavors, but not meat, though killing is forbidden.”
In other words, it’s okay to ask laypeople or farmers from the foot of the mountain to slaughter the animals? Meng Qi now understood the situation. As a martial sect rooted in Buddhism, Shaolin naturally had to consider the physical condition of disciples in their early stages of training, thus making an exception based on the original meaning of Buddhism.
Seeing the young novice monk speak eloquently and clearly, Meng Qi felt a liking for him and smiled, asking: “May I ask, what is your Dharma name?”
“Zhen Yan.” The young novice monk didn’t stop moving his chopsticks.
Meng Qi continued: “My name is Zhen Ding. May I ask, senior brother, what does ‘opening the orifices’ mean?”
He was taking advantage of his young age, pretending he hadn’t been taught by his family yet to ask questions.
Zhen Yan laughed and pointed at the table with his left hand: “You’ll know later. Focus on eating first.”
Meng Qi followed his finger and saw that half of the dishes in the seven or eight bowls on the table were already gone!
Damn! These bastards didn’t even wait for me!
After silently cursing, Meng Qi picked up his chopsticks and joined the food fight.
…
After finally getting full, Meng Qi wiped his mouth and walked back to the dormitory with Zhen Hui as if taking an evening stroll.
“Hey, to be honest, the food was still a bit subpar. I probably thought it was delicious just because I was too hungry,” Meng Qi patted his stomach, letting out a burp, and commented on the dinner.
Zhen Hui thought for a moment and said seriously: “What I ate before was worse than this. But since senior brother thinks it was subpar, then it must have been subpar.”
“Ah, you trust me that much?” Seeing that Zhen Hui spoke quite logically, Meng Qi thought he might still have hope and curiously asked further.
Zhen Hui raised his hand and touched his bald head, a bit shyly saying: “I think senior brother is a good person. Unlike others, you don’t dislike me, so I trust you.”
“A discussion on the relationship between childhood experiences and psychological disorders…” For some reason, this thought popped into Meng Qi’s mind.
Just as he was about to boast a bit more and establish the image of a great senior brother, Xuan Xin, with his belly sticking out, walked over: “Hey, you two, go clean the courtyard. Wait for your senior master to broaden your knowledge of the martial world.”
Broaden martial world knowledge? Meng Qi immediately became interested. After asking where the brooms were kept, he called Zhen Hui and went to the storage shed in the courtyard corner.
As a novice monk, one must always be ready for tasks. Meng Qi didn’t mind this, as long as it wasn’t too excessive or specifically targeting him. It was like during school or work when a teacher or boss assigned a task, such as cleaning, which wasn’t anything unusual.
Swish, swish, swish, the broom swept across the gray stone floor, raising dust and removing fallen leaves.
Meng Qi and Zhen Hui, whose bodies had not yet fully developed, struggled a bit with the broom but still found it relatively easy, as the courtyard was regularly cleaned and not particularly dirty.
As they swept, a strange and amusing thought suddenly came to Meng Qi. He smiled and imitated an old voice: “Little junior brother, do you think we’re like the legendary broom monks of Shaolin?”
Hmph, the path of a great martial artist.
“Uh-huh, broom monks.” Zhen Hui didn’t even lift his head, continuing to sweep.
Meng Qi’s smile froze on his lips. He sighed inwardly: “You really don’t get the joke!”
Putting his thoughts aside, Meng Qi worked with Zhen Hui and finished cleaning the courtyard before nightfall. Then they saw several gray-robed novice monks carrying the benches from the dining hall into the courtyard, placing them down in an orderly yet casual manner.
“They’re so practiced at this…” Meng Qi suspected that Xuan Xin must often give them martial world knowledge sessions?
As night fell, Xuan Xin, his face glowing with satisfaction from the meal, waddled out from his dormitory. Immediately, several novice monks rushed to help him, setting up benches and lighting lamps, showing great enthusiasm.
“Senior brother, what is ‘martial world knowledge’?” Zhen Hui, usually dull and expressionless, seemed somewhat interested.
“This… this is a long story. Wait until Senior Master Xuan Xin speaks, and then I’ll explain it to you slowly.” Newly arrived Meng Qi had no intention of explaining complex terms to Zhen Hui and sat on the bench, waiting for Xuan Xin to begin.
Xuan Xin looked around, satisfied with the eager expressions, coughed once, and began: “Today, I’ll continue telling you about the great battle I witnessed in Jiangzhou City.”
“To tell you the truth, both ‘Flying Night Demon’ Yan Wowo and ‘Ice Fairy’ Ye Yuqi were famous figures on the Earth List. That battle turned the land into a wasteland for hundreds of miles and froze the great river. Out of compassion, how could your senior master bear to see the people suffer? So I recited a Buddhist chant, intending to resolve their personal grudge…”
He spoke vividly, but the expressions of the novice monks below were mixed, mostly a blend of disdain and anticipation.
“Is Senior Master Xuan Xin really that powerful?” While listening to the martial world story, Zhen Hui seemed more active than usual, showing the same interest he had in food.
The sleepy monk Zhen Ying in the front row didn’t turn his head, whispering like a mosquito: “‘Flying Night Demon’ Yan Wowo is the leader of the Jiangzha Fist Sect in Jiangzuo, and ‘Ice Fairy’ Ye Yuqi is the younger sister-in-law of Master Lu from Huamei Villa in Northern Zhou. Both are among the top thirty on the Earth List, comparable to the heads of the Bodhidharma and Bodhi Sects in our Shaolin.”
The heads of the Bodhidharma and Bodhi Sects, and a novice monk… Meng Qi instantly understood that Xuan Xin was boasting, of course, he did it skillfully, cleverly attaching real martial world events to his own story.
Compared to the cold Zhen Guan, this sleepy monk Zhen Ying seemed more knowledgeable?
Zhen Hui, still clueless, continued to ask: “So Senior Master Xuan Xin is really that powerful!”
He didn’t understand the implications in Zhen Ying’s words at all.
Meng Qi tugged at his robe and whispered: “The heads are much, much more powerful than Senior Master Xuan Xin.”
“But…” Zhen Hui wanted to ask why, if Xuan Xin wasn’t powerful, he could still stop such a battle, but Meng Qi waved him off, telling him to ask later to avoid being overheard and scolded by Xuan Xin.
Xuan Xin spoke with great enthusiasm, finally finishing his “benevolent savior” martial world story. He then looked at Meng Qi, Zhen Hui, and the other new novices: “Do any of you have questions? As for martial world matters, I, your senior master, know everything.”
Meng Qi quickly said: “Senior Master Xuan Xin, we know very little about the martial world. With your storytelling, we don’t understand much of it.”
“That’s reasonable. If you don’t understand, you can’t truly feel my might.” Xuan Xin nodded, cleared his throat, and said: “Then I’ll first introduce you to some basic martial world knowledge, starting with the four great Buddhist temples.”
“Thank you, Senior Master Xuan Xin.” Meng Qi said happily.
Xuan Xin, with a proud expression, began: “Although there are numerous martial arts sects in the world, when it comes to those who dominate the martial world, currently there are only the four great Buddhist temples, the three Daoist sects, the six sword sects, the six major powers, the nine evil paths, the fourteen aristocratic families, and the legacies left by the six heterodox masters.”
When he mentioned the six heterodox masters, he seemed a bit uncertain, but that didn’t stop him from continuing: “The four great Buddhist temples are our Great Jin Shaolin Temple, the Shuiyue Nunnery of Northern Zhou, the Vajra Temple of the Western Regions, and the Lankai Temple.”
When he mentioned Lankai Temple, he paused again, showing uncertainty, then angrily said: “Actually, I’ve always wondered why Lankai Temple is included among the four great Buddhist temples. No one knows where it is, its disciples rarely appear in the martial world, and there are no famous deeds to speak of.”
The other novice monks seemed to hear this for the first time and curiously asked: “If that’s the case, why is Lankai Temple included among the four great Buddhist temples?”
Xuan Xin became smug again and boasted, “It is said that when the Abbot was young and wandering the martial world, he once encountered a disciple from Lankai Temple. Later, he only made one remark about this encounter: ‘If there is fate, Lankai Temple is as near as the horizon; if there is no fate, the horizon is as distant as the ends of the earth.'”
Horizon close, the world far?
So mysterious!
Including Meng Qi, all the gray-robed monks were stunned, filled with confusion, curiosity, and awe.
Seeing that he had impressed the novice monks, Xuan Xin chuckled: “Let’s get back on track and talk about our Shaolin Temple.”
“Thousands of years ago, the Demon Buddha caused chaos in the world, and was suppressed by the Buddha’s descent. However, the ‘Rulai Divine Palm’ was scattered and lost. Two thousand years ago, Bodhidharma, the founder of Shaolin, came from the southern wilderness, crossed the river on a reed, and accidentally obtained the third move of the ‘Rulai Divine Palm.’ Thus, this supreme Buddhist martial art reappeared in the world.”
“Although there was no comprehensive manual, Bodhidharma, with his innate brilliance, spent ten years facing the wall and, from the third stance of the ‘Tathagata Divine Palm,’ attained enlightenment of the ‘Yijin Jing’ and numerous other supreme martial arts, thereby establishing the Shaolin lineage. Within a century, Shaolin had already risen to become the foremost martial sect in the world. Through the dedication of successive patriarchs and holy monks, Shaolin now possesses seventy-two supreme martial arts. Beyond the ‘Yijin Jing,’ treasures such as the ‘Great Dream True Sutra’ and the ‘Maha Subduing Fist’ now grace the temple’s legacy. As for which patriarch or holy monk created or acquired them—that is a tale for another day.”
What demon Buddha, what ‘Rulai Divine Palm,’ what ‘Great Dream True Sutra’ and ‘Maha Subduing Fist’—Meng Qi was deeply moved, his heart filled with yearning. The martial world of this realm was probably more complicated than he had imagined, even involving gods and Buddhas! Of course, it might just be a legend.
Cough, Xuan Xin suddenly coughed and smiled: “It’s already late. I’ll continue tomorrow.”
With that, he immediately stood up and disappeared into his dormitory.
This… this is just too tantalizing! Meng Qi was just about to listen to the stories of the seventy-two supreme martial arts and the Vajra Temple when Xuan Xin suddenly left, leaving him itching with impatience.
After tidying up the courtyard, Meng Qi and Zhen Hui quietly returned to their dormitory. Zhen Guan and Zhen Ying were already asleep, their breathing long and steady.
They didn’t speak, each removing their shoes and socks, lying on their mats, still immersed in the martial world described by Xuan Xin.
“Little junior brother, are you willing to remain a novice monk forever, unable to learn Shaolin’s supreme martial arts?” In the silence, Meng Qi suddenly asked softly.
Zhen Hui asked in confusion: “Senior brother, what does ‘willing’ mean?”
“It means being content, happy, liking it, not wanting more.” Meng Qi again felt that communicating with the child Zhen Hui was a bit difficult.
Zhen Hui said “Oh” and added: “I can eat, sleep, work, and get full, and I can hear Senior Master Xuan Xin’s stories. I’m already very content, much better than before.”
Then he added: “If I could learn the ‘Rulai Divine Palm,’ that would be even better.”
Spitting out his saliva in surprise, Meng Qi didn’t know whether Zhen Hui was content or discontented.
Meng Qi calmed himself and was about to speak when he suddenly noticed that Zhen Hui’s breathing had become light, already asleep.
The dormitory was completely quiet now, with only the gentle rise and fall of several breaths, making the night seem even deeper and more tranquil.
The bright moon hung outside the window, casting a silver glow on the floor in front of the beds, like frost.
Looking at this peaceful scene, Meng Qi’s past memories surged up uncontrollably, bringing with them feelings of longing, sorrow, hesitation, confusion, and self-pity.
He hadn’t had time to think much during the day, so this quiet night was especially “soul-destroying.”
That unforgettable past, that heart-wrenching “farewell,” kept Meng Qi awake for a long time.
Only at this moment, in this scene, did he truly understand the real meaning of the famous poem by Li Bai.
“Before my bed a pool of moonlight lies,
Like frost upon the ground it shines.
I lift my head and gaze at the moon,
Then lower it, thinking of home.”
Looking at the cold moon outside the window, Meng Qi was momentarily entranced.
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