Chapter 23: “Kind Heart”

Meng Qi was both startled and furious, struggling hard, but Zhen Guan’s strength was no small matter. Although he was slightly moved by the struggle, he still firmly pinned Meng Qi down, his grip showing no sign of weakening.

After the initial panic and struggle, Meng Qi suddenly realized his breathing, though difficult, was nowhere near suffocation. Zhen Guan’s hands seemed to be “trapped” by his muscles and skin, making it hard to effectively cut off his breath.

Right! I’ve learned the “Iron Shirt Technique!” This thought suddenly flashed through Meng Qi’s slightly dazed mind.

Because it wasn’t something he had practiced himself, in the earlier moment of crisis, he had actually forgotten he knew the Iron Shirt Technique!

The Iron Shirt Technique itself didn’t significantly enhance strength.

After confirming he wasn’t in real danger, Meng Qi gradually steadied his panicked emotions, focused his mind, and began to channel energy from his dantian, a warm current slowly rising.

As his internal energy flowed, Meng Qi exerted force with his waist, abdomen, and arms, directly flipping Zhen Guan off him and slamming him against the wall with a loud thud.

Zhen Guan staggered from the impact but still struggled to get up, his eyes bloodshot, continuously growling threats like “I’ll kill you” and “You’re stealing my chance to enter the martial monks’ academy,” then madly lunged at Meng Qi again.

“He’s gone mad!” By now, Meng Qi had scrambled to his feet on the communal bed, his heart surging with shock and fury. Without evading, he instinctively launched a forward-step punch—the practiced “Black Tiger Snatches Heart”—landing squarely on Zhen Guan’s chest.

Zhen Guan’s flailing punches landed on Meng Qi’s body but felt like mere tickles to him.

Bang! Zhen Guan crashed against the wall once more, producing a dull sound.

He clutched his chest with his right hand, struggling to rise, but Meng Qi’s punch had nearly used his full strength. No matter how hard he tried, his body ached unbearably, leaving him weak and unable to stand.

“Die! Die!”

“You damned bastards, lying monks!”

“I must have revenge, I must have revenge…”

He muttered incoherently, tears and snot streaming down his face.

At this moment, Zhen Ying and Zhen Hui had been awakened by the commotion, one looking bewildered and the other dazed, watching the scene unfold.

Seeing Zhen Guan’s crazed expression, as if he wanted to tear Meng Qi’s flesh and devour it raw, Meng Qi thought about how he might have died just now if not for having exchanged for the “Iron Shirt Technique” in the “Reincarnation World.” His anger flared again, and he jumped off the communal bed, fists swinging toward Zhen Guan.

Puh! Meng Qi’s fist didn’t hit Zhen Guan but landed on a suddenly appearing yellow cloth, producing a light, hollow sound.

“Stop!” Xuan Xin tucked his sleeve away and barked a low command.

Meng Qi hadn’t lost his senses and, upon seeing Xuan Xin appear, immediately shouted, “Master Xuan Xin, Zhen Guan has gone mad! He tried to kill me!”

Meanwhile, Zhen Guan “cooperated” by glaring viciously at Meng Qi and Xuan Xin, continuously muttering threats like “I’ll kill you.”

Xuan Xin looked angrily at Zhen Guan, curled his lip, and said, “What can you kill like this?”

He quickly took a few steps forward and delivered a flying kick that left Zhen Guan temporarily breathless, unable to speak.

“What are you staring at? Go back to sleep! Do you want to carry water in iron buckets tomorrow instead?” Xuan Xin shouted at the work monks who had appeared at the door, chasing them back who had come to watch the commotion.

“These useless good-for-nothings!” Xuan Xin muttered to himself, turning his head. Zhen Ying on the communal bed looked increasingly gloomy.

Afterward, Xuan Xin turned to Meng Qi, miraculously transforming from furious to smiling within a second: “Master Zhen Ding, what do you think we should do about this matter?”

Meng Qi, having considerable social experience, had mostly vented his anger and hadn’t suffered any real harm, so he looked at Zhen Guan and said, “I’ll leave everything to Master’s discretion, but he’s clearly lost his mind. With anyone else, there might have already been a murder.”

Xuan Xin coughed once and signaled Zhen Hui to close the dormitory door.

Zhen Hui had previously been staring intently at Xuan Xin kicking Zhen Guan, as if witnessing a martial arts story unfolding before his eyes, quite excited. Now he responded with a shout, jumped off the communal bed, clomped to the door, closed it, and then continued staring wide-eyed at Xuan Xin and Meng Qi.

“After all, this is our work monks’ courtyard matter. Making it public would be undesirable. How about this? I’ll find another reason tomorrow and expel Zhen Guan from Shaolin,” Xuan Xin said with a full smile.

Meng Qi understood the implication: if this matter escalated and was taken over by the Discipline Court, Xuan Xin, as the responsible monk overseeing the work monks’ courtyard, would inevitably bear some responsibility.

Just as Meng Qi was considering whether to use this opportunity to build a good relationship with Xuan Xin for future convenience, the door was suddenly pushed open, and a monk in yellow robes entered, his right hand wearing a string of brownish-red prayer beads.

“Master Xuan Xin, if it weren’t for my coincidental patrol nearby and hearing the commotion, you’d have kept this matter hidden,” this disciplinary monk, approximately thirty years old, with narrow, elongated eyes and a somewhat sinister expression, spoke to Xuan Xin with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Xuan Xin’s expression changed several times, quickly stepping forward with a beaming smile: “I was just trying not to trouble you, Master Xuan Kong! This trivial matter doesn’t need you to personally intervene.”

He took something from his robe and secretly slipped it into Xuan Kong’s hand.

Xuan Kong weighed the item in his hand, his smile becoming warmer: “No lives were lost, and no one was injured, indeed a minor matter, but this madman mustn’t be kept.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you look bad,” Xuan Xin assured, patting his chest.

Meng Qi watched in astonishment, realizing that this Buddhist temple wasn’t necessarily a place of pure tranquility, at least not the work monks’ courtyard, which also had its share of “social etiquette.”

Xuan Kong glanced at Zhen Guan, who was struggling to stand, then turned to Meng Qi: “Young Master, you’ve got quite a body of hard-learned martial arts.”

Instinctively, Meng Qi touched his neck, feeling several deep fingernail marks, his mind racing as he carefully chose his words: “Master Xuan Kong, before becoming a monk, I had contact with many family martial arts techniques. After finishing my chores, I often practiced when idle.”

“Hehe, no need to be nervous; we all understand,” Xuan Kong said with slight sarcasm. “Without that background, how could the disciples from the Sword Washing Pavilion and the Zhenwu Sect speak for you? Do you think they’re easily moved by eloquence?”

So that’s how they saw it… Meng Qi secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Although it was possible his words had genuinely impressed the two disciples, this explanation was more acceptable and better concealed his true relationship with Zhang Yuanshan and Jiang Zhiwei.

Xuan Kong’s lips curled into a half-smile: “However, Shaolin never considers a disciple’s background when accepting students. If you commit any wrongdoing and fall into our Discipline Court’s hands, we won’t show mercy. Hehe, I’m close friends with Master Xuan Ku, and his attitude is my attitude.”

After speaking, he turned and walked outside, leaving behind a light remark: “Master Xuan Xin, remember to handle this properly.”

“Damn it! The Discipline Court bastards hate nothing more than someone showing backbone in front of them!” After Xuan Kong left, the rather coarse Xuan Xin cursed bitterly, showing no awareness of having violated the precept against foul language. “Zhen Ding, did you argue with them?”

Meng Qi curled his lips: “If I’ve done nothing wrong, why should I fear them?”

“Tsk tsk, that’s exactly the attitude they hate the most,” Xuan Xin looked Meng Qi up and down. “Only someone from a noble background who doesn’t worry about having no way out could be so bold. Say, which family are you from?”

“How would I know!” Meng Qi put on a profound expression and said, “Once worries are dispelled, one transcends the mundane world. No matter which family it is, it has nothing more to do with this humble monk.”

Xuan Xin spat, clearly not believing Meng Qi’s words. Over the past period, he had noticed that Zhen Ding was quite precocious, with speech and behavior unlike that of a child, so he asked no more questions, looking at Zhen Guan with a sigh:

“Actually, Zhen Guan is pitiable. Born into a merchant family, he lived comfortably without worries about food and clothing. Who knew that while his family was traveling on business, they encountered the ruthless seventy-two bandits of Helian Mountain, leaving no survivors. From a young master, he became an orphan. Later, seeking revenge, he joined Shaolin. However, how could his deep hatred be hidden from Xuan Ku? Thus, he was sent to our work monks’ courtyard.”

“If the reason for not accepting Zhen Guan as a disciple was this, why give him any hope at all?” Meng Qi frowned.

“Hehe, that’s just how Xuan Ku is. He kept Zhen Guan here, hoping the temple’s chanting of sutras and prayers might dissolve Zhen Guan’s inner hatred and eliminate some karma. Amitabha Buddha, the boundless power of Buddhist teachings,” Xuan Xin recited the Buddhist mantra with heavy irony.

“Hmph, why doesn’t he go persuade those seventy-two bandits to immediately abandon their evil ways and attain Buddhahood?” Meng Qi said angrily.

“Tsk, that would require him to be able to defeat them first,” Xuan Xin clicked his tongue.

Turning to look at the gradually calming Zhen Guan, he said, “Ah, Zhen Guan, tomorrow you’ll leave the mountain. Hurry and seek another sect; perhaps you’ll still have the chance to master profound martial arts.”

“Leave the mountain?” At these words, Zhen Guan suddenly regained clarity, covering his face with both hands, painfully whispering, “Father, Mother, your son is unfilial! Your son is unfilial! Five years have passed, and I still haven’t avenged even one robber…”

Meng Qi sighed, not stopping Xuan Xin from sending Zhen Guan away, knowing there was no hope left for him here.

This further solidified Meng Qi’s determination to learn martial arts well, not wanting to end up without the ability to avenge others in the future.

…

“You two?” Zhen De and others, standing in the newly promoted martial monks’ formation, looked extremely astonished at seeing Meng Qi and Zhen Hui appearing at the front of the line.

Wasn’t it said that no one from the work monks’ courtyard had become a martial monk for a very long time?

Could the sly kid and the fool really become martial monks?

This made them, who took pride in the martial monks’ courtyard, instinctively feel some resistance toward Meng Qi and the other.

Xuan Chi, with his hands behind his back, looked at the martial monks who had joined the temple in the past year and said to Meng Qi and Zhen Hui, “From today onward, you’ll learn martial arts with them. Your instructor will be Zhen Miao.”

Zhen Miao? Meng Qi turned his head to look at the young monk beside him, who appeared refined and scholarly. Him? Also of the Zhen generation, while Meng Qi and others were still at the martial monks’ stage of cultivating energy and strengthening their bodies, he had already become an instructor monk!

Zhen Miao wore a yellow monk’s robe, seemingly refined, yet standing there, he exuded a sense of towering majesty and profound calm.

He nodded slightly without smiling: “Go to the back of the line.”

Meng Qi and Zhen Hui had no objections and quickly found positions to stand.

“Today, we’ll continue practicing the Arhat Fist. I’ll demonstrate again; be sure to watch carefully,” Zhen Miao said after watching Xuan Chi leave, then with his right hand, he swept aside the lower hem of his robe, took a horse stance, and first demonstrated the “Mountain Worshiping Buddha” move.

“Start with this move. The path of martial arts must be built on a solid foundation; don’t be greedy for more or rush ahead,” Zhen Miao instructed the monks to practice their fists.

Meng Qi and Zhen Hui had both learned the Arhat Fist for several months and could keep up with the progress, so they repeatedly practiced the fist techniques from the first move to the eighteenth, gradually drenched in sweat.

“Stop!” Suddenly, Zhen Miao approached Meng Qi, looking at him sternly, “Your Arhat Fist has many irregularities. How have you been practicing normally? At your current stage, if you lose precision in your forms, it will leave hidden dangers!”

Meng Qi knew his Arhat Fist relied on studying the martial arts manual and occasional guidance from Zhen Yong, so there were certainly many problems. Therefore, he earnestly said, “I’ve been practicing according to the martial arts manual. Please, Senior Brother, give me guidance.”

“Practicing like this is worse than not practicing at all; it will take more effort to correct later,” Zhen Miao frowned, then turned his head sideways, “Zhen De, come out and spar with him so he understands the consequences of improper techniques.”