Chapter 47: An Unexpected “Joy”

Inside an ordinary courtyard, several sturdy and majestic Bodhi trees grew, their canopies spreading like umbrellas, casting shade and greenery.

This is the Bodhi Hall of Shaolin Temple, dedicated to the study of Buddhist scriptures and the cultivation of Chan wisdom. It often stands side by side with the Dharma Hall, which focuses on martial arts. The elders of the Bodhi Hall are all formidable martial artists who have transcended worldly concerns, rivaling the monks of the Dharma Hall in strength—almost akin to living Arhats.

The reason lies in Shaolin’s Buddhist heritage; most of its supreme martial arts require a pure and enlightened Chan mind. The deeper one’s understanding of Buddhist teachings and the more one transcends worldly concerns, the more likely one is to attain true insight and make rapid progress.

Inside a meditation hall of the Bodhi Monastery, where only about ten meditation cushions were placed, an elderly monk whose appearance resembled a withered tree—bereft of eyebrows or beard—struck the wooden fish before him. His voice was hollow and serene: “Venerable Xuan Bei, why must you insist on taking Zhen Ding as your disciple?”

Before the sorrowful yet dignified Xuan Bei could respond, another elderly monk with a kindly and benevolent expression spoke unhurriedly: “Venerable Xuan Bei, I do not oppose your acceptance of Zhen Hui as your disciple. The supervisors from both the Lay Disciple Hall and the Warrior Monk Hall have noted his earnest and single-minded nature, which naturally resonates with the true essence of Buddhism—clearly, he possesses innate wisdom. However, Zhen Ding, even during his time in the Lay Disciple Hall, was impulsive and scheming. After transferring to the Warrior Monk Hall, he bullied others by relying on his strength, which runs counter to the compassionate spirit of Buddhism. With such a temperament, how could he possibly inherit the authentic teachings of Shaolin?”

The initially speaking monk without eyebrows and appearing gaunt continued: “Although Zhen Ding has performed great deeds, the matter of inheriting the authentic teachings must prioritize one’s nature. It is not necessary to be exceptionally intelligent or simple-hearted, but at the very least, one must not be arrogant or bully the weak. In my opinion, it would be better to allow him to choose a Qi cultivation technique from one of the supreme martial arts as a reward.”

The elders of the Bodhi Monastery and the Dharma Monastery would secretly observe the monks from the Lay Disciple Monastery and the Warrior Monk Monastery, combining the evaluations given by the supervising monks to make their decisions, to avoid entrusting the authentic teachings to unworthy individuals.

Of course, this could only minimize the chances of betrayal and apostasy; throughout history, there have always been monks who strayed into demonic paths after experiencing worldly affairs, and others who were skilled only superficially but possessed poor temperaments. Even within the Dharma Hall, there were several monks with obsessive personalities. However, for disciples who had already inherited the authentic teachings, Shaolin would try its best to guide and reform them through Buddhist teachings, hoping to save those who had strayed.

Xuan Bei, with his often furrowed brows, bore faint wrinkles around his eyes. Gazing into the distance, he said, “Esteemed seniors, Zhen Ding did not bully others in the Warrior Monk Hall. Zhen Liang has always been arrogant and domineering in the martial arts hall, frequently bullying others. Zhen Ding’s actions were those of a man standing up against injustice. Though his methods may have been flawed, his intentions were not at fault.”

He had joined the monastery as an adult and thus his speech habits leaned toward those of martial heroes.

The monks present were all senior monks of the “Wu” generation, hence his address of “Senior” and “Uncle.” Within the temple, the number of surviving monks of the “Kong” generation could be counted on one hand.

“Using violence to stop violence, how can this reflect the true teachings of the Buddha?” The kind-faced old monk shook his head.

The gaunt, eyebrow-less monk spoke impassively, “Venerable Xuan Bei, why not wait a while longer and allow Zhen Ding to continue tempering his disposition in the Warrior Monk Hall for some time, smoothing out his impulsive nature.”

Xuan Bei turned to face the old monk, respectfully clasped his hands together, and said: “Zhen Ding is very young, easily influenced, and naturally impulsive; we cannot simply try to wear him down. Amitabha Buddha, in His boundless compassion, please allow me to fulfill this request, Elder Master Wu Si.”

The gaunt, eyebrow-less monk was indeed Wu Si, the senior monk of the Bodhi院 and the first disciple of Abbot Kong Wen. He was Xuan Bei’s proper senior uncle—Xuan Bei’s master was Wu Kong, the youngest disciple of Abbot Kong Wen, who had passed away from injuries caused by a demon creature before Xuan Bei entered the monastery.

The kindly-faced old monk frowned and said: “How can one study Buddhist teachings without enduring hardship? Venerable Xuan Bei, why do you insist on taking him as your disciple?”

It was the same old question again.

Xuan Bei looked inward, eyes fixed on his nose, nose fixed on his heart, but remained silent.

Wu Si struck the wooden fish once and said: “Venerable Wu Xiang, choosing a disciple is a personal matter; we need not interfere. Venerable Xuan Bei, in the future, you must bear the responsibility.”

The implication was clear: if your disciple commits grave errors, you, the master who insisted on taking him in, will also be punished.

Xuan Bei slowly nodded: “I understand, Master.”

…

Gazing at the lush and tranquil Bodhi trees, Meng Qi felt a mix of excitement and unease. Having relied on the rewards from the Bodhi Temple, he had not exchanged for a foundational martial arts technique in the cycle of reincarnation. If his hopes were to be dashed, his path of growth would face significant obstacles, making substantial progress unlikely and his next reincarnation mission perilously dangerous.

Normally, whether it was completing the Blossoming Rain Needles, the Blood Saber Technique, the Lingzhi Qi-Replenishing Pill, or the first move of A-nan’s Broken Precept Saber Technique, all of these should come after selecting a primary martial art technique!

Without the reward from the Bodhi Court as a foundation, Meng Qi would likely have opted for a primary martial art technique along with mastering the first move of Ananda’s Broken Precept Saber Technique. He would have made do by asking friends like Jiang Zhiwei to gather some ordinary poisoned needles and figuring out how to load them himself.

Looking at the Bodhi trees and then at Zhen Hui, who was walking beside him with great concentration, Meng Qi felt a flicker of confusion: “If we’re here to receive a reward, why bring the junior apprentice along?”

This confusion was the source of his anxiety.

“Junior apprentice, what have you been up to lately?” Meng Qi couldn’t help but ask.

Zhen Hui, with a straightforward expression, counted on his fingers: “Morning chants, fetching water, breakfast, studying characters, lunch, martial arts practice, dinner, meditation, listening to stories, sleeping. Brother, these are the things I’ve done. Oh, and I cursed the Discipline Hall.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Meng Qi said with exasperation as he looked up at the sky. “Do you know why you were taken to the Bodhi Temple?”

Zhen Hui looked at Meng Qi with bright eyes: “Brother, do you know?”

He seemed eager for the answer as well.

“Well, I don’t know either,” Meng Qi covered his face and replied.

Pushing open the courtyard gate, the two followed a novice monk into a meditation room where two monks awaited them, both wearing yellow robes and red kasayas. One looked nearly middle-aged, refined and handsome, but exuding a melancholic aura—this was Xuan Bei, whom Meng Qi had met before. The other was an old monk, withered, wrinkled, and missing most of his eyebrows and beard.

“Grandmaster, Young Master, we have brought Zhen Ding and Zhen Hui,” the novice monk bowed and then left.

“The elder monk is Wu Si, the senior monk of the Bodhi Temple,” Meng Qi promptly and respectfully bowed together with Zhen Hui upon hearing the old monk’s introduction.

Wu Si, expressionless, said: “Zhen Hui, Xuan Bei wishes to take you as his disciple. Are you willing?”

“Huh?” Meng Qi was greatly surprised, but soon calmed down. It turned out that Zhen Hui had been brought along because he had been chosen by Xuan Bei, unrelated to Meng Qi’s reward.

Sigh, this guy seemed foolish, yet he was always being chosen by senior monks… Meng Qi felt a slight twinge of envy and jealousy, but these emotions quickly subsided. First, he and Zhen Hui were very close friends, and he genuinely felt happy for him. Second, Meng Qi himself carried a great secret, making it unsuitable for him to take a master. He still needed a supreme martial art, blending in among the warrior monks as an ordinary monk, and when the opportunity arose, he would leave Shaolin.

Zhen Hui’s face, usually blank, first showed confusion, then joy and hesitation, as he knelt and said: “I am willing, but I have one request.”

“Usually when someone takes a disciple, they are grateful, not making demands,” Wu Si, not angry at Zhen Hui’s simple nature, instead teased with a smile.

Xuan Bei was not angry either and gently nodded: “You are indeed honest and sincere. What is your request?”

“I request that Master also take Senior Brother Zhen Ding as a disciple,” Zhen Hui did not raise his head, his voice somewhat muted.

“Huh?” Meng Qi was shocked again, then deeply moved. Although Meng Qi had been very kind to Zhen Hui, caring for him and often “teaching” him, it was mainly because he wanted to relieve the loneliness of being mysteriously transported to a foreign land and the pressure of the samsara world. He himself did not believe he had been completely sincere. Yet, unexpectedly, Zhen Hui valued him so much, repaying his kindness so sincerely!

Xuan Bei’s lips curved slightly, as if smiling, his melancholic aura dissipating slightly: “You are indeed a loving and caring younger brother.”

Hearing his words, Meng Qi snapped back to reality, looking at Zhen Hui with a “grieved” expression. Little apprentice, I know you mean well, but, but Senior Brother really doesn’t want to become a disciple! Don’t do something good that turns out bad!

Looking at Zhen Hui, he then gazed pleadingly at Xuan Bei, please don’t agree, absolutely don’t agree!

“Zhen Ding, I can feel your longing. Since Zhen Hui has pleaded so earnestly, I will reluctantly agree,” Xuan Bei smoothly accepted, his smile faint but without a trace of gloominess.

Wu Si did not speak, only sighing lightly at Xuan Bei’s smile. Since joining Shaolin, Xuan Bei had rarely smiled.

No need to be reluctant! Meng Qi wished he could gouge out his own eyes, but under these circumstances, he could not refuse, after all, when something unusual happens, there must be something strange behind it!

Out of a hundred warrior monks, at most one could resist the “temptation” of being taken as a disciple by a senior monk, and even then only because they had a better option.

Whatever, since I’ll find a way to leave the mountain anyway; having a master’s guidance might even shorten the time! Meng Qi thought resignedly, then knelt and bowed: “Disciple greets Master.”

After some preparation, Meng Qi and Zhen Hui officially became disciples of the Bodhi Temple. The ceremony was attended by numerous elders and monks from both the Bodhi Temple and the Dharma Temple, as well as supervising monks from the Discipline Temple and the Supply Temple, who documented the change in Meng Qi and Zhen Hui’s status.

When Xuan Kong, representing the Discipline Hall, entered the Bodhi Hall and saw Meng Qi and Zhen Hui kneeling before Xuan Bei, his face darkened completely, as if it could drip with ink. His voice trembled slightly as he asked another monk, “Are they going to become disciples?”

After receiving an affirmative answer, his expression became dazed, filled with regret. If only he had known that Xuan Bei had already set his sights on Zhen Ding and Zhen Hui, why would he have used underhanded methods to make Zhen Ding miss the disciple selection day! Because of this, he would now be resented for no reason!

Seeing Xuan Kong’s expression, Meng Qi suddenly felt delighted and no longer so resistant to becoming a disciple.

Hmph, that’s just how petty I am!

After a relatively grand ceremony, Meng Qi and Zhen Hui officially became authentic disciples of Shaolin, even belonging to the lineage of the Abbot.

“Now that you are my disciples, you may each choose a supreme martial art as your primary cultivation technique. If, in the future, your Chan mind becomes clear and you attain the true essence of Buddhism, you may even switch to practicing the ‘Mahavairocana Fist’ and ‘Great Dream Sutra.’ Additionally, you will also have the opportunity to cultivate the ‘Yi Jin Jing’ and witness the true essence of the third move of the ‘Tathagata’s Divine Palm,'” Xuan Bei said, outlining a bright future for Meng Qi and Zhen Hui according to tradition after the initiation.

Of course, actually getting to see the Divine Palm or cultivate the ‘Yi Jin Jing’ was extremely rare; among the authentic disciples, one in a hundred might have such an opportunity.

Meng Qi felt slightly excited upon hearing this, but having survived several life-and-death situations, he understood that the rest was just empty promises. What truly mattered was selecting a primary martial art from the seventy-two supreme techniques.

Hmm, someone as uniquely talented as me would obviously be suited for elegant and graceful martial arts like the ‘Peerless Divine Finger’ or ‘Flower-Plucking Finger’—just by looking at me. Sigh, but I must disappoint my master. I’m so fixated on the ‘Golden Bell Shield’ or the ‘Indestructible Diamond Body Technique’… Meng Qi thought, attempting to console himself amid his frustrations.

“Zhen Ding, you will choose the ‘Golden Bell Shield,'” Xuan Bei said softly.