Chapter 340: Moke Finger

Like half of an iron pagoda, Zhen He also wore a look of shock on his face. “Master-disciple Zhen Ding, no, how did ‘Wild Blade’ Su Meng return to Shaolin?”

It was rare for a Shaolin disciple who had been expelled to return to Liantai Mountain unless they had finally attained great enlightenment, abandoned worldly concerns, and genuinely taken monastic vows. But Su Meng clearly didn’t fit that description.

As for returning for revenge, he hadn’t even considered it. Even if he were ranked 11th on the Human List, let alone the Earth List, no one could dare to cause trouble at Shaolin.

Meng Qi observed their expressions and couldn’t help but smile. “Why do the two senior brothers look so startled? Am I some kind of ferocious beast?”

Zhen De inhaled deeply, trying to suppress his inner emotions. “Master Su, may I ask what brings you here?”

“Meng Qi has matters that require an audience with my master, the venerable monk Xuan Bei. I hope senior brother Zhen De will announce my arrival,” Meng Qi replied calmly, hands behind his back, neither humble nor arrogant.

Zhen De’s expression slightly changed. “Master Su, you’ve already been expelled from the monastery. You can no longer refer to the venerable monk Xuan Bei as your master.”

Meng Qi chuckled. “Senior brother Zhen De, I never imagined you would cling so tightly to such notions. Names are but illusions, temporary combinations of causes and conditions. Whether I call him master or venerable monk Xuan Bei, he remains the same person. What’s the difference? Why must you insist on such distinctions?”

His tone was leisurely, as if he were climbing a mountain to visit a temple, discussing Buddhist sutras.

Zhen De faltered for a moment, then turned and headed up the mountain, leaving behind a single sentence. “The venerable monk Xuan Bei is currently in retreat. I’ll inform the guest reception office on your behalf.”

So my master is in retreat. That explains why he hasn’t come to meet me despite all the commotion along the way… Meng Qi nodded slightly and entered the pavilion to wait.

Inside the Half-Mountain Pavilion stood a stone table, stone chairs, and a stone stele. The first two were for visitors to rest, while the latter stood at the edge, inscribed with the Diamond Prajna Paramita Sutra in tiny, neat handwriting.

“Thus have I heard…” Meng Qi stood before the stele with his hands behind his back, appreciating the calligraphic style. These rows of small characters appeared densely packed at first glance, yet upon closer reading, they were never dizzying to the eyes. Each character was written with ease and grace, possessing its own unique style, none repeated, as if each held its own form to demonstrate that all forms are not truly forms, imbued with profound Zen meaning. It was truly a sacred Buddhist site often guarded by Arhats and Great Arhats.

At this moment, Zhen He had already regained his composure and begun to observe Meng Qi quietly. He saw a man who showed no sign of impatience while waiting. His green robe fluttered slightly in the breeze, hands behind his back, reading Buddhist scriptures with an air of calm and stability that was truly admirable.

Suddenly, Zhen He recalled the past. Once, while sparring with senior disciple Zhen Ding, he had been completely overwhelmed by his opponent’s imposing aura. His legs had gone weak with fear, and despite possessing considerable strength, he had been unable to unleash it effectively, leading to a swift and humiliating defeat.

At that time, he had thought that senior disciple Zhen Ding possessed extraordinary talent in martial arts and would surely achieve great things in the future. He never expected that “future” to arrive so soon. Only a few years had passed, and Zhen Ding had surpassed senior disciples Zhen Ben and Zhen Miao, earning a formidable reputation in the martial arts world as the 11th on the Human List, almost rivaling his junior master Xuan Zhen!

Now, observing his bearing, he truly had the demeanor of a martial arts grandmaster.

Meng Qi savored the Zen meaning contained within the Buddhist inscription on the stele, his mind calm and serene, recalling the sixth-generation Shaolin patriarch of old, the venerable monk Yuan Kong, who had carved this stele after attaining the Arhat Golden Body.

Mountain winds blew past, making his green robe flutter violently, but they could not stir up any impatience or anxiety within him.

Zhen He wasn’t very familiar with Meng Qi and couldn’t think of anything to say, so he simply stayed by his side, waiting for Zhen De’s return.

Before long, Zhen De returned together with a receptionist monk dressed in yellow robes.

“Amitabha Buddha, what business does Master Su have with venerable Xuan Bei, who is currently in retreat?” The receptionist monk raised one hand in a Buddhist greeting; he was also a monk of the Xuan generation.

As they approached, Meng Qi had already turned from the stele, smiling. “Venerable master, must one have urgent matters to visit an old friend?”

The receptionist monk, accustomed to dealing with outsiders, did not dwell on his form of address, chuckling instead. “Normally there’s no need, but venerable Xuan Bei happens to be in retreat. If Master Su has urgent matters, I’ll have to consider disturbing him early. If it’s just a social visit, then I’m afraid Master Su will have to come another time.”

“Then may I inquire if venerable Zhen Hui is in retreat?” Meng Qi changed the subject to Zhen Hui. Calculating the time, he should have finished his wall-gazing meditation long ago.

The receptionist monk, aware of Meng Qi’s past conflicts with the temple, had anticipated this question and answered without hesitation. “Venerable Zhen Hui has only recently completed his wall-gazing meditation and won’t be entering retreat again for quite some time.”

“Then I’ll pay him a visit,” Meng Qi said with a smile, his expression saying, “I don’t mind at all.”

The receptionist monk nodded. “Please follow me, Master Su.”

He led Meng Qi up the mountain path. As Meng Qi looked around, memories of the past surfaced. There was the place where he used to carry water, and there was the spot where he had almost slipped and fallen once… A faint sense of vicissitude suddenly welled up in Meng Qi’s heart.

After walking a bit further, a monk appeared on the mountain path. Dressed in a yellow robe, he looked scholarly rather than monastic. It was indeed Zhen Miao, Meng Qi’s former martial arts instructor at the Shaolin Warrior Monk Academy, and one of the two prominent disciples of the Zhen generation.

Though they were called the “two prominent disciples,” there were actually more who had joined later. Some showed exceptional martial talent, while others possessed innate wisdom. However, due to their short time at the temple, none had yet caught up with him and Zhen Ben.

“Amitabha Buddha, Master Su, have you been well since we last met?” Zhen Miao had come especially to meet Meng Qi.

Behind him, at the bend of the mountain path, numerous gray-robed disciples peeked curiously, eager to catch a glimpse of the legendary “Fierce Vajra,” who was in fact the foremost among the Zhen generation.

Among them, one monk stood out particularly. He was the only one wearing a yellow robe. His eyes were slightly narrow and long, and his aura was sinister. He was also someone Meng Qi knew well—Xuan Kong, the disciplinary monk of the Precept Hall.

Could it be that he wants to incite a match between me and Zhen Miao? Zhen Miao has always been competitive. Back then, he couldn’t resist testing his skills against me even when I hadn’t yet awakened… Meng Qi speculated while smiling and returning the greeting. “Senior brother is not only well but even better than before. Thank you for your concern, senior brother Zhen Miao.”

Zhen Miao took a deep breath. “That’s good to hear. I still clearly remember those days at the Warrior Monk Academy. Who would have thought that Master Su would now be renowned throughout the land? May I ask if you would be willing to give me some guidance today?”

He had not yet embarked on his journey beyond the mountains, and all his knowledge of the martial world came from what he had heard. The sparring sessions with senior monks of the Xuan generation were mostly just demonstrations without serious intent. He had long been eager to test his skills against someone ranked on the Human List to gauge his own abilities and identify his shortcomings.

In his opinion, he was already on the verge of unlocking his seven apertures (spiritual senses) and had mastered two external techniques of the Mahakasyapa Finger. He saw no fundamental difference between himself and individuals like Su Meng and Qing Yu, who had already opened their seven apertures. If not for his determination to fully master one of the techniques, he would have already traversed the Bronze Man Alley and ventured into the outside world to gain experience.

Xuan Kong watched the two of them intently, his sinister gaze revealing anticipation. He didn’t expect Zhen Miao, who lacked real experience in life-and-death combat, to defeat Su Meng. But he hoped to humble him a bit, to curb his arrogance and eliminate the unpleasantness others felt toward him.

Meng Qi could roughly sense their emotions but didn’t care. He smiled lightly. “Back at the Warrior Monk Academy, I never got to witness senior brother’s Mahakasyapa Finger, which has always been a regret. Today, that regret will finally be remedied.”

As a guest, he had no obligation to engage in a match if he wasn’t willing.

Zhen Miao, with a serious expression, said, “Zhen Ben has already mastered seven supreme martial arts, while I only have the Mahakasyapa Finger and Yi Wei Du Jiang. Master Su, please.”

As the host, he naturally had to let the guest make the first move.

Meng Qi smiled and shook his head. “No, senior brother, please go first.”

Would a martial artist nearly in the top ten of the Human List ever make the first move in a friendly match?

Zhen Miao, who was competitive by nature, pondered briefly, then went along with it. He raised his right hand, his body as light as drifting cotton, descending like the wind. He brought his two fingers together and pointed toward Meng Qi.

Suddenly, this finger filled Meng Qi’s entire field of vision. It was immense, overwhelming, and victorious. The finger force came from every angle, unpredictable and ever-changing, the technique as elusive as a gazelle hanging its horns, leaving no trace.

The finger force kept accumulating, almost creating a heaven-shaking and earth-moving sensation!

He used an external technique right from the start… Meng Qi’s lips curled into a smile. He calmly drew his blade. The sword’s momentum was complete and round, embracing the void, directly absorbing most of the finger force.

With one slash of the sword, Meng Qi moved forward with the momentum. It was as if he had the ability to shorten distances, instantly crossing the barrier of finger force and approaching Zhen Miao. The roundness dissipated, and the long blade sliced emptily and mistily.

Seeing Meng Qi dodge his external supreme martial art, Zhen Miao’s expression slightly changed. He pointed his two fingers at the blade, attempting to block it.

But the blade’s light was like the flickering lights of the mortal world, igniting all kinds of desires in his heart. His competitive spirit burned fiercely, causing his movements to hesitate slightly.

“The Wound of Heaven” broke through the defense and was directly withdrawn. Meng Qi said leisurely, “Good finger technique, but the timing was off.”

The way of combat was never simply about using killing moves or one’s ultimate techniques—it wasn’t necessarily better. If the timing was inappropriate, it was easy for the opponent to dodge, wasting effort. That’s why when Meng Qi fought Qing Yu, he first engaged in a round of swordplay, seized the opportunity and the weakness, and only then unleashed his ultimate move to ensure victory. Hence, in front of the temple of the Mountain God, after the death of the Soul-Stealing Xiao, when the Flame Human Demon faced the rushing Meng Qi, he didn’t choose to use his ultimate technique because Meng Qi’s footwork was unpredictable, like a phantom or a demon, and the distance was still far. A slight carelessness would lead to dodging, and once he was suppressed by Meng Qi, he could no longer find an opportunity to use his external technique.

The first time Meng Qi faced An Guo Xie, he didn’t hastily use “Severing Purity.” Instead, he wisely used the Illusory Form Technique to deceive, seeking a good opportunity before making his move.

Zhen Miao’s practical combat experience was still too limited. A sudden move with his ultimate technique was only useful when he had overwhelming strength or caught the opponent off guard…

Zhen Miao was first stunned, as if trapped in a nightmare, unable to believe he had been defeated so quickly. When he heard Meng Qi’s words, he felt slightly relieved, his expression contemplative. “Thank you, Master Su, for your guidance.”

Just now, in his eagerness to win, he had forgotten the teachings of his masters. As the saying goes, knowledge gained from books is ultimately shallow.

The monks of the Zhen generation had various expressions, all revealing disbelief. In just two moves, senior brother Zhen Miao had been defeated… Was Zhen Ding still at the stage of opening his meridians?

At this moment, Xuan Kong coldly snorted. “Amitabha Buddha, using the ‘A-nan Breaking Precepts Blade Method,’ not even Shaolin’s divine skills, what kind of skill is that…”

Meng Qi burst into laughter, strode forward, raised his long blade, his body following the momentum of the sword. In the blink of an eye, he was already in front of Xuan Kong.

This slash was extremely slow, yet it contained countless variations. Each variation was as fast as an afterimage, as if sealing off every possible escape route and countermeasure Xuan Kong could take!

Xuan Kong’s forehead was drenched in cold sweat, as if he were trapped in an inescapable nightmare of terror, with no way to evade or counter. By the time the blade reached his face, he could only barely raise his palms, which emitted a faint golden glow, striking the blade with rigid and mighty force.

Variations emerged, and the long blade directly passed through his palms, landing before his forehead. Xuan Kong’s legs couldn’t help but tremble slightly.

Meng Qi sheathed his sword with a big laugh. “Venerable Xuan Kong, this slash was not Shaolin’s divine skill.”

His green robe fluttered slightly, a long sword hanging at his waist. Without looking back, he strode past Xuan Kong, ascending the steps with laughter echoing behind him.

In the past, Xuan Kong, whether in terms of strength or status, could easily suppress him. Now, he couldn’t even withstand a single slash from Meng Qi…

Watching his unrestrained and elegant figure receding into the distance, the monks of the Zhen generation couldn’t help but feel admiration and reverence.

Just as he reached the temple gate, Meng Qi saw a gray-robed figure rushing out, speaking familiarly without the slightest hint of estrangement. “Senior brother, you’re back? Hurry up and tell me about the battle with the ‘Orthodox Sword,’ ‘Shocking Hundreds of Miles,’ and ‘Five Emperors’ Blade’!”

Goodness, it’s been more than two years. Shouldn’t a normal person feel a bit estranged and gradually become familiar again? My junior brother is definitely not a normal person! Meng Qi looked at Zhen Hui with an expression of helplessness.