Chapter 340: Mo-Ke Finger
Translator: Transn Editor: Transn
As still as an iron tower, Zhen He was filled with fearful panic. “Why has Junior Brother Zhen Ding… Wait, no… Why has Su Meng, the Killing Blade, returned to the Shaolin Temple?”
The disciples of the Shaolin Temple rarely returned to Mount Liantai after being expelled, unless one had come to realize and had attained the true Enlightenment of Buddhism, relieved oneself of all emotions and desires, and had truly become a monk. But that did not seem to be the case for Su Meng’s return.
It would be virtually unthinkable for anyone to return for the sake of dispensing vengeance, for not even those on the Terrestrial Rankings, much less the 11th on the Ranking List of Young Masters, were able to callously inflict their will toward the Shaolin Temple.
Meng Qi observed their expressions, and blurted out with amusement, “Senior Brothers, there’s no need for such hastiness. Mr. Su isn’t an enemy nor a monster.”
With a heavy breath, Zhen De suppressed whatever foreboding sentiments were swelling within him. “Donor Su, what brings you here?”
“I have business to discuss with my master, Divine Monk Xuan Bei. Would Senior Brother Zhen De please announce my arrival?” Asked Meng Qi as he stood patiently with folded arms, neither too humble nor too proud.
Zhen De’s expression shifted slightly. “Donor Su, you were expelled from the Shaolin Temple. You’ll no longer address Uncle Master Xuan Bei as your Master.”
“Senior Brother Zhen De,” chuckled Meng Qi, “I couldn’t imagine that you could be so obsessed. My manner of addressing the Master is only a matter of semantics. He is, after all, both my Master and Divine Monk Xuan Bei. What difference is there for us to worry about?”
His tone was leisurely, as if he was at the temple to deliver a sermon on Buddhism and discuss the scriptures.
Mumbling, Zhen De turned on his heels and walked in the direction of the mountain, leaving with just a few words. “Uncle Master has sealed himself for hermetic training. I’ll announce your arrival to the Reception Yard.”
“So, the Master is in hermetic training. That explains why he hasn’t emerged despite the grave incidents along the journey…” Meng Qi nodded slightly as he stepped into the pavilion and waited.
At the mid-mountain pavilion, there were tables and chairs made of stones for guests to rest and refresh themselves. There was also a stone stele, where one could read a miniature inscription of the Diamond Sutra.
“If the rumors were true…” Meng Qi observed the stone slabs with his hands folded behind him. The minute engravings seemed to be dense in each row, but if read carefully, one would not feel confused reading the text. Every engraved word was slick and well-positioned, each retaining its own individualistic style. No two words would appear the same as if physically manifesting the “Each and every form is illusory” teaching of the Diamond Sutra. What a meaningful representation of Buddhist enlightenment in this place, the Holy Grounds of Buddhism.
In the meantime, Zhen He regathered himself and quietly observed Meng Qi, only to find that the latter did not even have the slightest agitation. In silence with poise and reverence, Meng Qi studied the sutra text upon the stone slab with his hands crossed behind his back as his clothes billowed lightly in the breeze.
Zhen He was reminiscing about the time that he was shaken by the imposing stature of Junior Brother Zhen Ding, when he was unable to perform at his best and lost during their sparring.
It was then that he understood that Junior Brother Zhen Ding had tremendous talent in the study of Kung Fu. In time, he would surely reach greater heights. Who would have known that time could pass so swiftly like the wind? In just a matter of a few years, he had already surpassed Zhen Ben and Senior Brother Zhen Miao and made his name in Jianghu as the 11th on the infamous Ranking List of the Young Masters, almost on par with the young Uncle Master Xuan Zhen.
To look upon him now, one would surely feel the aura of a master emanating from within him.
Meng Qi looked as if he was in peace, absorbed in meditating on the Zen disciplines contained within the Sutra and remembering the Sixth Master of the Shaolin Temple, Divine Monk Yuan Kong, who had inscribed the Sutra upon the stone slabs many years ago. The Divine Monk, who in his greatness, had claimed the Golden Body of the Luohan.
His clothes fluttered in the brisk mountain breeze, yet no signs of impatience surfaced.
Being unfamiliar with Meng Qi, Zhen He could not strike up a conversation with him and, therefore, accompanied him quietly as they both waited for Zhen De’s return.
Moments later, Zhen De returned with a Reception Monk in a yellow frock.
“Amitabha,” greeted the monk with his palms raised to his chest in reverence. “What’s the business that Donor Su wishes to discuss with Junior Brother Xuan Bei?” With that, the monk had indicated that he was of the same “Xuan” seniority with Divine Monk Xuan Bei.
As they approached, Meng Qi turned from the stone stele. Smiling, he asked, “Uncle Master, is there any specific reason required for an old friend to come visit?”
Being accustomed to dealing with guests from the outside, the Reception Monk made no indication about any issues over the address. “Normally that wouldn’t be the case, but Junior Brother Xuan Bei is currently in hermetic training. If the donor has pressing matters that require attending to, then I’ll have to consider alerting him ahead of schedule. However, if this is just a leisurely visit, then I’m afraid that Donor Su might need to visit again at another time,” replied the smiling monk.
“I wonder if Junior Brother Zhen Hui is also in hermetic training?” Asked Meng Qi, switching over to Zhen Hui. By his calculations, he should have been out of his training by now.
Understanding Meng Qi’s imbroglio with the temple, the Reception Monk had known that Meng Qi would surely mention Zhen Hui. Without any further thought, he replied, “Nephew Zhen Hui has just completed his training not long ago. He shouldn’t be sitting for another training any time soon.”
“I shall visit him then,” said Meng Qi with a carefree smile on his face.
“This way please, Donor Su.” The Reception Monk nodded and then led the way.
As the Reception Monk led the way up the mountain path with Meng Qi in tow, the latter was filled with emotions as he looked around and fleeting memories flowed into his mind. The spot where he gathered water, the spot where he almost had fallen… He was flooded with the sights and sounds of his past as he passed the different memorable areas that he had been during his time there.
After a while, another monk was waiting on the mountain path. Dressed in a yellow monk’s frock and looking mild-mannered, he looked more like a scholar than a monk. He was none other than Zhen Miao, Meng Qi’s Teaching Monk during his time in the Warrior-monk Yard, one of the two older Seniors of the Shaolin Temple’s “Zhen” seniority.
There had been many monks that emerged later on with exceptional flair in Kung Fu and Buddhist enlightenment, all of whom were remarkable talents themselves. But for now, both he and Zhen Ben maintained their headway amidst the emergence of new talents.
“Amitabha,” greeted Zhen Miao. “How are you, Donor Su?” He was there specifically to await Meng Qi’s arrival.
At the curves and turns of the mountain path behind him, scores of grey-frocked disciples were hoping to take a peek, trying to get a glimpse of the legendary Reckless Monk, the greatest of the Shaolin Temple’s “Zhen” seniority.
Amongst the bemused, grey-clad disciples, a monk with a yellow frock visibly stood out. With narrow slit eyes and a scheming demeanor, Meng Qi recognized him as Xuan Kong, a Commandment Monk from the Commandment Yard.
“Could it be that he would try to goad me into sparring with Zhen Miao? Zhen Miao is a person with a strong will to win. During the days before I had found the true way of enlightenment, he would always seek me out to fight.” The thought made Meng Qi wary as he smiled in return. “I’m not only good, I’m better than ever. Thank you, Senior Brother Zhen Miao, for your thoughts and concern.”
“That’s good indeed. The incidents at the Warrior-monk Yard from years ago are etched in my mind like it was yesterday. Who would have known that Donor Su would one day become world-renowned? I wonder if you would be available to advise me on a thing or two.”
Without any experience of venturing off the temple grounds, all news from Jianghu was all but hearsay to Zhen Miao. Even in training and sparring with enlightened masters of the “Xuan” seniority, they would not seriously inflict harm upon each other. With an itch that he could not scratch, he was thirsty to test his skills and satisfy his curiosity.
In his opinion, he believed that he was at 70 percent of his peak, having mastered the two Exterior strokes of the Mo-Ke Finger technique.
Xuan Kong watched them both, his scheming gaze closed in on both of them with great attention and anticipation. He harbored no hopes that Zhen Miao, with no true life-and-death fighting experiences, would be able to fully stand against Su Meng. He merely hoped that the outcome would put him in his place and humble the usual arrogance that Zhen Miao had about himself.
Meng Qi sensed the rising tension and prodded with a smile. “I’ve always been slightly disappointed to not have had the pleasure to witness Senior Brother’s Mo-Ke Finger during your time in the Warrior-Monk Yard. I see that my wish is coming true today.”
Even so, as a guest, Su Meng had the choice to decline an invitation to spar.
“Zhen Ben has already mastered the Seven Supreme Arts, whereas I have only mastered the Mo-Ke Finger technique. Donor Su, if you please,” said Zhen Miao somberly.
It was only right that the guest was first offered to make the first move.
“Please, Senior Brother.” Meng Qi declined with a smile.
As a master in his own right, one who was close to being listed within the top 10 on the Ranking List of Young Masters, it would be unseemly of him to make the first move.
Filled to the brim with great desire to win, Zhen Miao stood for a split-second and, with great grace and agility, he lunged himself forward with two fingers closed together and pointed at Meng Qi.
The sudden thrust of the fingers filled Meng Qi’s vision in an instant. The pressure that accompanied the stroke assailed Meng Qi from all angles. A move which had no form nor style, but was unbridled and free.
The accumulated pressure of the stroke rushed forward with a force like raging waters from a broken dam!
“So soon, yet already an Exterior stroke,” thought Meng Qi, smiling. With an unnerving calmness, he unsheathed his saber and returned with rapid, circular slices that seemed to fill the entire void between them. The strong momentum of his blade movements dwarfed even the surging force of his opponent’s attack.
With a slash, Meng Qi hurled himself forward as he avoided the technique and closed in on Zhen Miao. Once he had cleared it, he unleashed his blade on his opponent.
Unsettled by how Meng Qi had maneuvered and avoided his attack with such ease, Zhen Miao attempted to block his opponent’s saber by targeting its blade with his fingers.
The sight of the gleaming blade rekindled the hidden embers of cravings within him. His strong will to win that drove him forward became his undoing that slowed him down for an instant.
With the Heaven Inflicted Pain technique, Meng Qi had thus secured his victory and then gathered himself.
“A good stroke. Too bad it was executed with the wrong timing,” observed Meng Qi casually.
The true way of battle had never been about using only fatal blows and the most potent techniques and moves. Without appropriate timing by spotting opportunistic openings and flaws of the opponent, it was easy for the opponent to instead avoid and dispel your attacks with ease. Therefore, during Meng Qi’s duel with Qing Yu, it was a contest of bladesmanship on the surface when they were actually looking for openings and opportunities to exploit and unleash their ultimate technique to secure victory. Hence, after Soul-losing Flute’s death at the Mountain Deity Temple, against Meng Qi’s aggressive attacks, Flame Scorching Devil refrained from willfully executing any potent techniques. That was because Meng Qi, who was armed with a plethora of unpredictable techniques of movement, would be able to maneuver and avoid any ranged attacks, given the distance. With Meng Qi overpowering him in the end, there was not even a chance for him to dole out anything worth mentioning.
Even when Meng Qi first duelled with An Guoxie, he did not brazenly use the Peace Quietude Split technique, but instead, with great shrewdness, he first used the Transformation Strategy technique to force some openings before he attained his victory.
This duel fully underlined the fact that Zhen Miao was deeply lacking in actual combat experience, where his ultimate technique could only be used to its full potential only in duels of equal level or in times of grave danger…
Frozen, Zhen Miao was in severe disbelief that he had been beaten so easily. With those few words of advice from Meng Qi, he finally came to terms with his defeat and began to slowly reply, “My thanks to you, Donor Su, for your advice.”
In his haste to pursue victory, he had not remembered one of the teachings he had learned from his master: There is no gain in one’s insight without actual practice.
The monks of the “Zhen” seniority were incredulous and their faces were filled with shock and awe. Not one of them could have imagined that their Senior Brother Zhen Miao could be defeated with such a lack of apparent effort. “Had Zhen Ding really attained enlightenment?”
“The Ananda Oath-Breaking Bladesmanship, a Divine Skill of the Shaolin Temple… And here I thought you were a master in your own right…” snorted Xuan Kong suddenly.
With a great laugh, Meng Qi stepped forward. With a whisk of his blade, he appeared before Xuan Kong in the blink of an eye and slashed.
Despite the sluggish slice, Xuan Kong was forced into a quandary in which he could see clearly with his eyes that there was no avoiding it. There was an infinite counter to each evasive maneuver that Xuan Kong could think of, and each countermove was as fast as a blinding flash.
With a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead, Xuan Kong could not think of any way to avoid nor counter Meng Qi’s attack. With throbs of panic bearing down on him, he could only react and tried to raise his palms to slap at the blade when it was close.
With a simple countermove, the saber blade avoided both palms and rested before his forehead. Xuan Kong’s legs threatened to crumble as he trembled in fear.
“Uncle Master Xuan Kong, this’s no Divine Skill of the Shaolin Temple.”
Saying that as he laughed, Meng Qi sheathed his saber.
With his green robes rippling gently in the breeze and his sword back in its sheath hanging from his waist, Meng Qi carelessly drifted past Xuan Kong and continued up the steps as he laughed gently.
Xuan Kong, who was once ahead of him in strength and position, could not even withstand a single slash of his blade now.
Gazing at the departing Meng Qi, the flocks of monks of the “Zhen” seniority could not help being filled with awe and admiration at his gallantry and elegance.
Reaching the front of the temple, a gray-frocked monk rushed out and exclaimed crudely to Meng Qi,
“Senior Brother, you’re back! Come quickly and tell me the stories of your duels with Right-Guarding Sword, the Astounding, and Five Emperors’ Knife.”
“Crap! Two years of not seeing each other and Junior Brother still behaves like I just left yesterday!” Meng Qi was left speechless as he watched Zhen Hui.