Chapter 151: Eastern Zen, Bone-Extending

Rain drizzled in daylight, green waters gently rippled.

A small boat floated upon the emerald surface.

In this Jiangnan mist and rain, where ripples spread everywhere, it was impossible to tell whether the boat was drifting downstream, upstream, or not moving at all.

Fish in the water seemed to love this misty rain, rising occasionally to the surface, opening their mouths to stir a circle of ripples, then diving back beneath.

Yet no fish came within three zhang of that boat.

At the bow and stern sat two figures, each wearing a straw hat and rain cape—apparently an old man and a youth.

Inside the cabin, Chu Tianshu sat cross-legged, embracing the One, forgetting self and world.

Suddenly, he lifted his hands from his knees, forming sword fingers, and stabbed himself through more than a dozen acupoints from thigh to abdomen.

The “Perpetual Sky Divine Art” embodies the imagery: “Vast sea, cyclical water qi, transformation of the Kun and Peng, rain descending from heaven.”

The Kun dwells in the deep sea, its body immense; before it emerges, the sea’s surface must first churn with towering waves and surging tides.

Thus, before mastering the essence of the Kun-Peng transformation, one must first train one’s internal force to resemble surging, roaring waves.

In this stage, besides seated meditation and qi cultivation, one must also practice a refined acupoint-striking technique.

During practice, one strikes and releases one’s own acupoints, but the sequence of striking and releasing differs, secretly conforming to a certain pattern.

This causes newly born internal force to accumulate suddenly at a point, as if blocked by a dam, then, at the right moment, surge forward unimpeded.

Yet the path of this surge need not follow the original meridian route—it may be diverted into another meridian.

Chu Tianshu’s hands shifted constantly; finally, his left sword finger hung like a suspended needle, its tip barely touching his left knee.

His right sword finger swept horizontally from left waist to dantian, then surged upward, stopping at the heart.

Then, as if dragging a thousand-jin weight, his right hand moved excruciatingly slowly, returning from the heart back to the dantian.

This final movement was so slow that the eye could barely perceive any motion.

Only after a long while would one realize his right sword finger had indeed changed position.

Xu Ben at the bow exhaled, sensing the prickling threat behind him slowly fading.

When Chu Tianshu cultivated internal energy, it was not as violently turbulent as when practicing martial force, yet it still stirred blood and qi, emitting a faint pressure.

Anyone within three zhang would still sense a distinct anomaly.

“Are we nearing Nanshaolin?”

Chu Tianshu asked.

Xu Ben replied, “We can already see the temple’s silhouette atop the mountain.”

Green hills stretched along the shore, with tender green fields and lush trees.

Gazing afar, one could indeed see the bell tower on the peak and the upturned eaves of the main hall on the neighboring peak.

Legend says that at the end of the Sui and beginning of the Tang, Wang Shichong gathered troops in the Eastern Capital and declared himself emperor, founding the state of Zheng; he appointed his nephew Wang Renze as general to station heavy forces at Bai Gu Zhuang to block Li Shimin’s eastern advance.

Thirteen warrior monks of Shaolin, led by Tan Zong, infiltrated the Zheng army camp at night, captured Wang Renze alive, and delivered him to Li Shimin.

Li Shimin greatly praised the Shaolin warrior monks, granting them forty hectares of land and permitting them to establish ten additional temples nationwide.

Yet most of these ten temples were swallowed by the tides of history.

By the Song and Yuan dynasties, only the ancestral Shaolin on Songshan and the “State-Pacifying Eastern Zen Shaolin Temple” in Quanzhou remained.

Because Quanzhou lay to the south, people commonly did not call it Eastern Zen Shaolin, but instead referred to it as Nanshaolin.

This differs considerably from the development in the Republic-era world.

In the martial manual “Breaking into Shaolin” that Chu Tianshu obtained, it was mentioned that Yu Dayou had visited both Northern and Southern Shaolin; the Northern Shaolin was on Songshan, yet in that world’s Ming dynasty, the Southern Shaolin was in Putian.

In this world, the Southern Shaolin’s lineage had also endured great hardship.

By the late Yuan dynasty, the Dharma hall was overgrown with weeds, the monks scattered like raindrops; the entire Southern Shaolin had dwindled to just over ten monks.

Yet, at the dawn of the Great Ming, the abbot of that generation sensed a perfect opportunity.

At the time, Zhu Yuanzhang, following tradition, had issued a few imperial edicts bestowing favors upon Songshan Shaolin.

But compared to the Yuan dynasty’s lavish patronage of Songshan Shaolin, it was a world apart.

The Southern Shaolin abbot perceived the court’s dissatisfaction with Songshan Shaolin and immediately resolved to vigorously promote the doctrine of “agriculture and Zen as one,” adhering strictly to the “Hundred Rules of Baizhang.”

He loudly proclaimed that Southern Shaolin practiced “no work, no food,” leading monks to reclaim wasteland and assist villagers in farming.

In the tenth year of Hongwu, the prefectural official submitted a memorial to the court.

The emperor was delighted and issued an edict to repair the Shaolin Temple in Quanzhou.

Thus, Southern Shaolin flourished once more.

Yet Zhu Yuanzhang was ruthless and suspicious; since Southern Shaolin had adopted the banner of the “Hundred Rules of Baizhang” and preached agriculture and Zen as one,

for decades afterward, every new recruit had to be carefully trained, diligent and cautious.

This steadfastness earned Southern Shaolin a reputation so pure that, for a time, it surpassed even Songshan Shaolin in prestige.

But that was long-past history.

Today’s Southern Shaolin, though a renowned sect and hailed as one of the pillars of the righteous martial world,

cannot be said to be entirely law-abiding.

Since leaving Yongchun, Chu Tianshu had gathered and analyzed various rumors.

He ultimately chose to come to Southern Shaolin first, partly because he valued their restlessness.

Moments later, Xu Ben spotted the ferry landing and picked up the oar, rowing the water.

At the landing, besides fishermen and hired tourists, there were also professional ferrymen who transported people across the river.

The ferryman here wore a straw hat but donned a gray monk’s robe—clearly a monk.

Villagers waiting to cross needed only a small copper coin to board his raft.

With a single thrust of his long bamboo pole, the monk propelled a raft heavy with ten adults, including women carrying children, gliding steadily across the water.

As the small boat and raft passed each other, at their closest point, the monk smiled and nodded to Xu Ben.

Xu Ben’s eyebrows twitched, fixing his gaze.

He saw that whenever the monk encountered another small boat, he always nodded and smiled to the rower.

It seemed merely a greeting among fellow practitioners—no flaw in Xu Ben’s new disguise.

He had been hunted for half a year; he was becoming paranoid.

Decades ago, Southern Shaolin had many disciples; beyond lay disciples, even monks frequently traveled outside.

At that time, the abbot who revived Southern Shaolin was old, and he warned his monks: besides studying Buddhism, farming, and cultivating virtue, they should take up only three trades—rowing, blacksmithing, and tofu-making.

People said the three great toils of the world were these three trades.

Rowers labored endlessly for meager pay; blacksmiths endured exhausting heat; tofu-makers rose before dawn daily, pushing stone mills—owning even a single donkey was half their fortune.

But this was true only for ordinary folk.

For monk martial artists, when they truly mastered these trades, they proved once again the abbot’s foresight.

As Ming society grew increasingly turbulent, Southern Shaolin blacksmiths reduced production of farming tools; instead, their snowflake-patterned steel Jiedao became a marvel of the southern martial world.

Tofu-making evolved from simple tofu sales into full vegetarian banquet menus, gaining renown; nobles and martial magnates often paid exorbitant sums to taste the monks’ culinary art.

Only rowing seemed to yield no great profit.

Yet in truth, Southern Shaolin’s current influence among the common people stemmed largely from these ferry monks scattered along waterways.

As monks, they were naturally more than mere ferrymen in the people’s eyes.

When a family held a funeral, hiring one of these monks to accompany the body was far more respectable than wrapping the corpse in a mat and crying for days before dumping it in the grave.

When a child was born, inviting a monk to bless the infant and chant prayers was also welcome.

The people’s deepest impression of Southern Shaolin came from these ferry monks.

They would never know what other monks were like.

But they knew these ferry monks charged little and truly delivered—these were good monks.

“This monk is quite amiable.”

Xu Ben murmured to Chu Tianshu, “Years ago, a group of Southern Shaolin monks went to Huoshengou to exchange metallurgy and forging techniques; most were coarse and arrogant.”

“Many sects bought their Jiedao from them, fearing Huoshengou’s spearheads and short swords would steal their market.”

Xu Zhicheng said, “I remember—they brought officials along, intending to claim a territory and forbid us from selling beyond it.”

Chu Tianshu smiled: “Hah, your Huoshengou sold both spears and gunpowder—your reach was wide. Did you just accept that?”

“Southern Shaolin was simply too powerful.”

Xu Ben said, “The dispute dragged on for a long time with no resolution.”

“But later, the southeast grew increasingly chaotic; Japanese pirates and powerful clans began flooding the coast with Japanese swords.”

“The Central Plains’ Liuyun Prefecture also began selling Manchurian curved blades to the southeast; Southern Shaolin’s business suffered greatly, forced to focus on countering these two sword types.”

Xu Ben hesitated slightly.

“Master, are you planning to share the Fire Mystery Manual with Southern Shaolin?”

“After all, they’re monks—even if they’re accustomed to forging weapons, they probably lack the courage to mass-produce firelocks.”

“And though they’ve clashed with Japanese pirates in business, they’ve never shown real resolve against the pirates.”

Huoshengou’s earlier research on firelocks produced only small quantities, mainly for local officials.

But to combat the Japanese pirate threat, if firelock improvements weren’t scaled up, they’d have no meaningful effect.

Xu Zhicheng said, “Even if Southern Shaolin had the courage, how many monks could they possibly have?”

“You forgot their lay disciples.”

Chu Tianshu said, “Southern Shaolin’s revival over a hundred years—though called revival, it was nearly a complete rebuilding.”

“This had advantages: many lay disciples from there studied under the same master and maintained close ties in the martial world, far more united than the convoluted lineage of Songshan Shaolin.”

Southern Shaolin built its reputation on the banner of agricultural Zen discipline and could not afford to tarnish it.

They were Zen Buddhists, naturally in competition with other sects; they were men of the martial world, naturally shunned by local gangs; they were a branch of Shaolin, yet still under the watchful eyes of Songshan Shaolin.

Their scale was neither large nor small, their position too low, and the threats around them too close.

The speed at which they had decayed while growing was already considered slow.

“It’s just picking the tallest among dwarfs.”

Chu Tianshu pondered, “Let’s see if, with my methods, I can give them a bone-lengthening procedure.”

Xu Zhicheng didn’t understand—just moments ago they were talking about Shaolin, and now suddenly they were mentioning height increase.

He couldn’t help asking: “Break bones to grow taller? What kind of martial art is that?”

“It’s a medical technique, originally developed to treat warriors with broken bones in war, but they accidentally discovered that after the bones healed, the legs had grown longer.”

Chu Tianshu smiled. “It’s a very dangerous and challenging medical technique, so it’s never casually used just to increase height.”

“Its true purpose is to treat deformities and disabilities caused by certain conditions.”

(End of Chapter)