Chapter 231: with translation of chapter title

Shaolin Temple's seventy-two supreme skills: some specialize in lower-body training, some in lightness kung fu, some excel in fists and palms, some win with hidden weapons, whether swords or staffs; each has its own specialty and its own internal cultivation method.

For example, the Prajna Palm has its own internal energy, the Great Finger its own, the Great Vajra Fist its own—clear and distinct, never mixed. Thus, although Shaolin may have someone proficient in several skills, it is only insofar as they do not conflict.

This point the Shaolin senior monks certainly know well, and the external monks such as Shenshan and Daocheng also fully understand; therefore, when Jiūmózhì claims to possess all seventy-two supreme skills, everyone regards it as boastful talk, a grandiose deception.

But when Jiūmózhì showed a move, it was indeed entirely different; all the Shaolin martial arts that possess both hardness and softness left them feeling inferior and speechless.

But A Zi and Feng Yi saw it clearly; indeed, although the Shaolin supreme skills Jiūmózhì displayed were marvelous and wondrous, the internal energy he used with the Great Vajra Fist, Prajna Palm, Great Finger, and Kashaya Subduing Demon Skill was actually the Carefree Sect's 'Minor Formless Skill'.

This 'Minor Formless Skill' is a Daoist teaching, emphasizing tranquility and non-action, wandering the Great Void; compared to the Buddhist martial arts' teaching of 'non-abiding, non-attachment', although the names are similar, the substance is vastly different.

Although one cannot say it's like mixing fish eyes with pearls, in the end it is somewhat similar yet not the same, calling a deer a horse, confusing right and wrong; it is absolutely not what Jiūmózhì claimed—possessing all seventy-two supreme skills.

Having obtained Wuyazi's power, A Zi's internal energy consisted not only of Northern Dark True Qi but also contained the Minor Formless Skill; the Heavenly Mountain Granny had once told her how to use the Minor Formless Skill, but this Minor Formless Skill is Li Qiushui's exclusive divine technique, and the Granny's knowledge of it was limited. Only later, when Feng Yi and A Zi meticulously studied martial arts within the circular pattern on the wall of the underground stone chamber in the Spirit Vulture Palace, did A Zi receive Feng Yi's guidance and gain a deep understanding of the profound mysteries of the Minor Formless Skill.

Thus, as soon as Jiūmózhì made a move, A Zi perceived the clue, but Feng Yi had her just watch and not intervene, so she remained silent.

At this moment A Zi again saw Jiūmózhì showing off the Carefree Sect's martial arts, looking pleased with himself, which made her indignant and she wanted to expose him; but Feng Yi stopped her again, and A Zi could only relent.

Feng Yi knew Jiūmózhì had come specifically to challenge the Shaolin Temple, and relying on his martial arts, no one at Shaolin could match him. This time, without Xuanzhu to resolve the siege and save the situation, things might go badly and the sweeping monk could appear early; therefore he wanted to observe developments calmly.

After all, although Feng Yi came to Shaolin partly to watch the excitement, his main purpose was to meet the sweeping monk.

"Amitabha!", Xuáncí sighed deeply: "Beyond the heavens there are heavens, beyond people there are people; my decades of arduous study, compared to the National Teacher's martial arts, are truly not worth a smile. The old rules of Shaolin Temple likely have much room for correction."

Jiūmózhì felt pleased inside, silently cursing the Shaolin monks for their shallow understanding, not recognizing his Minor Formless Skill; his expression remained unchanged, he simply put his palms together and said: "Excellent, excellent! Abbot, why be so modest?"

Xuáncí put his palms together and said: "Shaolin martial arts are vast and profound, but we practitioners have not mastered them fully. Amitabha!"

"Amitabha!"

The monks in the hall likewise, without prior agreement, recited the Buddha's name in unison, all hanging their heads in dejection, the hall filled with a bleak atmosphere.

For hundreds of years the Shaolin sect has enjoyed worldwide fame, holding the leadership of Central Plains martial arts; now the abbot has been driven to such a state—not only does he admit that Shaolin's skills are inferior to others, but the rules he established may not be reasonable or proper.

Thus, not only does Shaolin Temple suffer utter defeat, but it also causes the martial artists of the Central Plains to lose face greatly before the foreigners.

The external monks Shenshan, Guanxin, Daocheng, Juexian, Rongzhi, and Shenyin all felt ashamed.

A Zi wondered: "Could it be that they just can't see it?"

A Zi thought that, given Shaolin's worldwide reputation, if Jiūmózhì used the Minor Formless Skill to activate Shaolin's supreme skills, those senior monks should certainly be able to tell; yet none of them directly pointed out the error, instead they admitted defeat, leaving her greatly puzzled.

Her martial arts knowledge is limited; how could she know that this Minor Formless Skill is vast and profound, its power absolutely not inferior to any Shaolin supreme skill, and that it is Daoist martial arts, while everyone in the hall is a Buddhist disciple—no matter how high their martial arts, they would not practice Daoist internal energy,

Moreover, the Minor Formless Skill takes 'formless' as its essence, having no discernible form or trace; unless one is oneself an adept of this path, one could never perceive it.

Xuáncí, Xuánnán, Xuánjì, Xuándù and the like are all contemporary masters, with extremely high insight; they also sensed that Jiūmózhì's internal energy resembled but was not identical to Shaolin supreme skills, showing considerable difference. Yet they thought that Shaolin martial arts originated in India, and the transmission there differs somewhat from that in the Central Plains, which is natural. Separated by ten thousand li and several centuries, Shaolin supreme skills have also undergone many changes through successive generations of eminent monks; if they were still completely identical, that would be unreasonable, hence they harbored no suspicion at all.

Jiūmózhì was at ease, lightly waving his robe sleeves, adjusting his clothing, and smiling: "Abbot Xuáncí, since you say that, it amounts to admitting that your sect's seventy-two supreme skills are seriously flawed, or perhaps they were not even originally created by your sect; thus the character 'supreme' ought to be revised."

Xuáncí remained silent, feeling as if his heart were being cut by a knife.

Xuánnán's white brows rose together, and he spoke sternly: "National Teacher, your divine power is astonishing; we hold you in the utmost reverence—why must you be so aggressive?"

"Master Xuánnán, your words are mistaken!", Jiūmózhì chuckled, gazed at the assembly, and smiled: "Actually, in my humble opinion, the Shaolin Temple might as well disband; you senior monks could go to Cool and Universal Salvation temples to seek refuge, each pursuing your own future."

He would rather devote himself to revising the Esoteric Buddhist Dharma of Tibet, paying homage to the Lama guru; I, the little monk, could also arrange an introduction. Is it not better than lingering in Shaolin Temple, which boasts only empty fame, idling away?

Upon hearing these words, the monks erupted in clamor; the Shaolin monks filled with grief and indignation, some showing anger on their faces, some cracking their fists and palms, some shouting rebukes.

Xuántòng spoke loudly: "National Teacher, are you indeed intending to challenge our Shaolin Temple single‑handedly?"

Earlier, Feng Yi and A Zi had whispered softly about Jiūmózhì's intentions; the Xuán‑generation senior monks also overheard, merely thinking he was judging a noble heart with a petty mind—who would have thought this fellow Buddhist actually truly intended to challenge the Shaolin Temple, so as to make his name renowned for eternity.

Only seeing Jiūmózhì shift his gaze, he laughed arrogantly and said: "Master Xuántòng, your words are too heavy; how dare I be so arrogant?"

Although I came alone to the Central Plains, although there are many martial arts masters, true heroes are few; for example, the martial arts of Great Hero Feng have earned my utmost admiration.

Having heard that Shaolin Temple was convening a heroes' assembly under heaven, I originally wanted to see whether this place, renowned as the Mount Tai and North Dipper of Central Plains martial arts, truly presented a solemn and magnificent aura, and whether it could live up to the claim that among the Five Sacred Mountains, Mount Song is the most exalted.

But after listening to the senior monks' words and observing their conduct, heh, it seems it still falls short of the Tianlong Temple in the remote southern border of the Dali Kingdom. Alas! This has left me greatly disappointed.

Xuánnán said: "Those who have left home no longer harbor thoughts of competition and victory; whether the National Teacher says Shaolin is inferior to Tianlong Temple or vice versa, it is simply that Buddhism knows no north or south—what difference could there be?"

Xuánnán dared to receive the National Teacher's supreme technique!

Speaking, he stepped out slowly, his large sleeves billowing; the fist power from the cuffs went forth with a whooshing sound toward Jiūmózhì.

Jiūmózhì smiled faintly: "I have long admired Master Xuánnán's 'Universe in the Sleeve', which shakes the world; to see it today is fortunate." Speaking, he also billowed his large sleeves and threw out a punch.

This skill of theirs is one of the Shaolin Temple's seventy-two supreme arts, called 'Universe in the Sleeve'; when the sleeves are brushed upward, the fist power emanates from the cuffs.

Shaolin senior monks have always taken meditation and Buddhist study as the foundation, martial practice as the periphery; anger already violates the precepts, let alone striking someone—but the Shaolin sect, taking martial arts as the foremost doctrine for centuries, how could it refrain from using fists and feet?

This 'Universe in the Sleeve' fist hides its power in the cuffs, making its appearance far more graceful; the sleeves seem to mask the fist power, aiming to prevent the enemy from seeing the origin of the strike, thus attacking him unawares.

Unbeknownst to others, the sleeves also store extremely fierce techniques and power; if the enemy focuses entirely on dissecting the fist moves hidden in the cuffs, he will turn from guest to host and directly injure with sleeve force.

One is the leader of the martial arts world, a Shaolin senior monk; the other is the dominant figure in the Western Regions, the National Teacher of Tibet; both are formidable figures in today's martial arts world.

In an instant, the two sleeves met, producing a hissing sound; Jiūmózhì's sleeve swelled, and Xuánnán felt a vast and powerful force transmitted from the opponent's sleeve; just as he was exerting all his strength to resist, the opponent's sleeve force suddenly developed a subtle skill, slight though it was, causing him to step forward half a pace.

Jiūmózhì's Great Vajra Fist shot out swiftly as electricity, with full force; yet both men's hands remained hidden in their sleeves, and the onlookers could not perceive the subtlety therein.

Xuánnán suddenly felt something amiss, about to retreat hastily, but Jiūmózhì's fist power had already reached him; unable to avoid, Xuánnán threw out his fist in panic.

Only a light 'crack' was heard as their fists collided; Xuánnán felt an overwhelming, tyrannical internal force surge forth—this was nothing like his senior brother's Great Vajra Fist—in a flash he lost control and retreated three steps.

Xuánnán, shocked and angry, felt his five viscera and six bowels seem to overturn; in an instant his breath stagnated, with a 'puff' blood spurted out, and he suffered internal injury.

Jiūmózhì did not pursue, clasped his hands together, and smiled: "Thanks, thanks; the head of the Damo Courtyard possesses deep internal force, truly living up to his reputation."

All the monks harbored dissatisfaction; the two performed identical techniques, yet the result was Xuánnian vomiting blood while Jiūmózhì remained unfazed—victory was decided at once.

Yet he still spoke of deep internal force and a reputation not undeserved—this is simply unreasonable.

A Zi gave a light snort: "You monk, having gained an advantage, still act coy!"

Jiūmózhì gave a faint smile and did not respond.

Xuánnán's internal injury was severe, his coughing unceasing; he felt great resentment, thinking: "This person uses Shaolin supreme skills, but practices not our sect's internal energy." Merely, his breath was blocked, and he could not speak.

Xuántòng's face darkened, his complexion extremely horrifying; he coldly said: "National Teacher, you strike with such cruelty—how could this befit a Buddhist?"

Jiūmózhì smiled: "Fists and feet are merciless; since we have struck, injury and death are inevitable. Master Xuántòng, if you are dissatisfied with me, please step down and receive instruction; if I am inferior, whether I live or die, what say do you have?"

Xuáncí frowned: "The Great Wheel Bright King's name resounds in all eight directions, yet he acts so barbarously—does he not fear losing his bearing?"

"Incorrect." Xuan Nan caught his breath, eyes wide open, and suddenly shouted: "The techniques the National Master is using are not our Shaolin martial arts; yet he claims to have mastered the Seventy-Two Supreme Techniques—what sheer bravado!"

As soon as these words were spoken, everyone present was stunned.

The monks thought that Kumarajiva was also using Shaolin's supreme techniques, but Xuan Nan's remark could not be baseless.

Kumarajiva furrowed his brows, wondering inwardly: "How does he know I'm not using Shaolin martial arts?" Then he realized, thinking to himself: "Indeed, these Shaolin high monks possess some genuine skill."

It turns out that Shaolin's Buddhist martial arts aim to subdue the enemy rather than kill; Kumarajiva, intent on making a grand slaughter of Shaolin's reputation, appeared to be using Shaolin's supreme techniques, but in his haste to win quickly he employed the Flame Blade technique, making his strikes overly fierce.

Spectators were blocked by their sleeves and failed to notice, but Xuan Nan, as the victim, perceived it very clearly.

A Zi suddenly asked curiously: "Big Brother, didn't Granny say that only Li Qiu Shui knows the Minor Formless Skill? How can this monk also know it? Could he be a disciple of the Xiao Yao Sect as well?"

Feng Yi replied lightly: "Just because one has learned the Minor Formless Skill doesn't necessarily mean they are a disciple of the Xiao Yao Sect."

A Zi pouted: "Why not? Could it be that this Minor Formless Skill was stolen by the National Master?"

Feng Yi sneered: "The Minor Formless Skill is a Daoist teaching, profound and unfathomable; although it can be used to activate Shaolin's supreme techniques, it inevitably bears some semblance without being the same. To claim it is Shaolin's supreme technique would be nothing short of a laughingstock in the martial world."

Feng Yi instantly saw that although Kumarajiva's strikes appeared seamless, they actually had gaps; as he spoke, he flicked his sleeve, causing the bronze cauldron in the Mahavira Hall to spin round and round, exactly like the Kasaya Subduing Demon Skill Kumarajiva had just displayed.

He then raised his fist and struck the cauldron. The punch carried a strong wind, showing considerable force, yet the cauldron made no sound at all; the spinning bronze cauldron halted instantly, and not a speck of dust inside was stirred.

While everyone was puzzled, they heard a "crack!" as the bronze cauldron split directly into five pieces, its edges neat as if cut by a blade.

Feng Yi's fist and palm strike could shatter iron gates and boulders; breaking a piece of bronze cauldron was nothing for him—effortless and graceful.

Many monks had never personally witnessed Feng Yi displaying martial arts; they only saw his leisurely demeanor, and upon arriving at the Mahavira Hall, his main activity seemed to be whispering sweet nothings with his lover, causing many young monks to look down on him.

At this moment, he suddenly displayed such divine abilities; over a thousand monks were startled, not knowing what to say.

Only then did it become clear why Kumarajiva, upon arrival, had steered the conversation both overtly and covertly to get Feng Yi to say he would not interfere in his affairs with Shaolin.

It seems he feared Feng Yi's peerless divine abilities.

Kumarajiva felt even more embarrassed.

Feng Yi gave a slight smile and said: "National Master, have I also mastered the Shaolin Seventy-Two Supreme Techniques?"

By now everyone understood; through A Zi and Feng Yi's coordinated exchange, they had already exposed Kumarajiva's true nature.

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Xuan Ji sneered: "So the National Master's so-called mastery of the Shaolin Seventy-Two Supreme Techniques is just this kind of 'mastery'!"

In the blink of an eye, Kumarajiva's face darkened, clearly extremely furious.

Feng Yi had no intention of getting involved, but unexpectedly Kumarajiva struck out viciously, directly injuring Xuan Nan.

Thinking of Xuan Nan's respect for him, Feng Yi naturally felt great displeasure; although he did not move to restrain him, he also wanted to expose his pretensions so he could no longer put on airs.

Kumarajiva had been feeling proud and pleased, wearing a genial expression, but now he felt his face utterly lost, and he no longer bothered to maintain the facade of an eminent monk.

Instantly his eyes rolled upward, and he sneered: "It turns out the greatest experts of the Central Plains martial world are nothing but people who go back on their word, profit from breaking promises."

"This Shaolin Temple, touted as the pinnacle of the martial world, lacks any true commanders and merely relies on outsiders to suppress fellow Buddhists."

"Heh, this is nothing but hollow fame and empty reputation!"

A Zi heard him call someone a promise-breaker; it was clearly aimed at Feng Yi, and she sprang to her feet.

"Amitabha!" Master Xuan Ci intoned a Buddhist chant: "Young lady, please don't take offense; this is an affair between our Shaolin sect and the National Master—let's see how our temple will resist this high monk from the West."

All the monks understood that, aside from Feng Yi, no one present could match Kumarajiva's peerless divine abilities.

Although Feng Yi's martial arts are superb, he is not a Shaolin disciple; even if he were to drive Kumarajiva away,

any person of insight also knows that Shaolin's success depends on its own people, not on borrowing other sects' martial arts, which would inevitably be a disgrace to the Shaolin school.

Even if there were no outsiders at the moment, how could these venerable monks engage in self-deception?

Feng Yi took A Zi's hand, pulled her to sit down, and told her to calm herself and not be restless.

At this critical juncture, he was the most eager to see how Shaolin could break the deadlock.

Abbot Xuan Ci looked at Kumarajiva and said coldly: "Hero Feng Yi and the National Master are both guests of our temple; since our temple's founding, exchanging martial techniques has been a common occurrence.

but for the National Master to come here, masquerading his heterodox martial arts as our temple's own and seeking trouble, this is the first time!

Although we are Buddhist disciples, we also harbor the resolve to protect the Dharma and subdue demons!"

In an instant, more than thirty monks of the Xuan generation on the Mahavira Hall rose to their feet, glaring angrily at Kumarajiva.

Faced with such a formation, even though Kumarajiva possessed supreme martial arts, his heart trembled.

Yet he stood firm, his eyebrows raised in anger, bearing no resemblance to his former amiable smile, and he said in a deep voice: "Shaolin Temple is a prestigious sect; seeking outside help is forbidden, yet to bully the few with the many, to rely on numbers for victory—despite centuries of reputation, many are nothing but shameless braggarts. Come on then, all together; what does a lowly monk have to fear?"

Saying this, he assumed a stance with both hands and fixed his gaze on the crowd.

Kumarajiva was naturally intelligent; from his youth he encountered one marvelous opportunity after another, receiving from a master of the Nyingma school of Esoteric Buddhism the divine art of the Flame Blade that emits power from the void, sweeping away dark teachings in Tubo and shaking the western frontiers, his power and insight already reaching the utmost heights. In the Tianlong Temple of Dali Kingdom he consecutively defeated masters such as Xu Rong, Ben Yin, and Ben Xiang; later he captured Duan Yu, and by chance, in the "Langhuan Jade Cave" of the Wang family in Suzhou, he obtained the secret manual of the Minor Formless Skill.

After studying it, he felt he had entered an entirely new realm of martial arts.

Buddhist martial arts take emptiness as their ultimate goal, while Daoist internal cultivation proceeds from non-obstruction and non-hindrance toward a state of non-discrimination; though the two paths converge at the highest levels and become quite similar, their introductory methods and applications are fundamentally different.

Moreover, when Kumarajiva obtained the secret manual of the Minor Formless Skill, it was left by Li Qiu Shui, consisting of eight volumes in total; to prevent others from stealing the knowledge, it was even written in the guise of a pharmacy ledger.

At that time, Ding Chun Chun explained the Minor Formless Skill to Lady Wang, and Kumarajiva thus learned its essentials; he concealed himself and did not appear, continually eavesdropping.

Who would have expected that Ding Chun Chun also took away the seventh volume for his own study, resulting in the loss of one of the secret manuals covering the extraordinary meridians— the Chong, Dai, Yang Wei, and Yin Wei vessels.

Kumarajiva had no choice but to steal the remaining seven volumes, return to Tubo, and, following the instructions, practice from the first volume through the sixth; he then mastered the extraordinary meridians described in the eighth volume, and afterward turned back to practice the extraordinary meridians that were supposed to be in the missing seventh volume.

He encountered several obstacles, but since the practices of the Chong and Dai meridians are not frequently used, he paid them no mind, thinking that once the flow of the remaining twelve regular and eight extraordinary meridians were integrated, the remaining extraordinary meridians' practices would come naturally and be able to merge.

However, after arriving in the Central Plains, he was defeated by Feng Yi; yet on Lei Drum Mountain, Feng Yi discussed the essence of martial arts.

Although Kumarajiva is possessed of greed, hatred, and delusion in full measure, his comprehension is exceptionally high; otherwise he could not, relying on a deficient volume of the Minor Formless Skill secret manual, have trained it to the point of deploying Shaolin's supreme techniques without the notice of the assembled high monks.

Feng Yi's words on Lei Drum Mountain were, to those like Murong Fu, merely a faint insight, but to Kumarajiva they stirred his heart deeply; he felt the speech contained great significance, prompting him to leave immediately.

He found a secluded spot, lit incense, and contemplated the divine art. Although he had been defeated by Feng Yi, his mind remained troubled, yet he felt that over the past half year of training he had made tremendous progress, and his resentment toward Feng Yi had lessened considerably.

Next he intended to fuse the Shaolin supreme techniques he had painstakingly trained for years with his own martial arts, incorporating them into himself. But upon hearing that Shaolin Temple was to convene a martial arts assembly, he planned to use the Minor Formless Skill to execute Shaolin's various supreme techniques, thereby gaining entry to Shaolin and defeating all the monks, leaving the Shaolin school in utter ruin.

By single-handedly overthrowing this renowned ancient monastery of the contemporary martial world, he could indeed achieve fame for eternity and establish unprecedented merit for Tubo, not wasting his title of National Master.

After all, the hosts of the Heroes' Assembly are no longer present; what kind of gathering could the Central Plains martial world still hold?

Afterwards, Kumarajiva became a legendary figure in the martial world, enough to surpass the Shaolin patriarch Bodhidharma.

Unexpectedly, his Minor Formless Skill was recognized by Feng Yi and A Zi, making the Shaolin Temple feel they had been deceived.

A crowd of monks wanted to swarm him—how could he possibly resist?

He then used words to provoke, demanding that the Shaolin School fight him one-on-one.

Hearing this, the Shaolin monks naturally understood his intention; the senior monks of the Xuan generation exchanged glances, all feeling that today's affair was too thorny.

Xuan Nan was Shaolin's second-best fighter after Xuan Ci, yet even he was easily defeated by Kumarajiva, and Xuan Ci going up would also end in utter defeat.

But if they really swarmed him, the Shaolin Temple's reputation would be ruined; even if they drove off Kumarajiva, how could they ever stand in the martial world afterward?

Either way, the Shaolin Temple would lose face.

It's a victory that is worse than a defeat!

Xuan Ci's face showed a mournful hue: 'Merciful Buddha, the Shaolin calamity; I, as abbot, am ashamed. Fellow brothers, please step back for now.'

The old monk declared, 'Today I will share Shaolin's fate!' Saying this, he stepped forward slowly, his gaze calm yet focused, fixed on Kumarajiva.

More than thirty monks of the Xuan generation chanted in unison 'Amitabha Buddha'; their voices sounded solemn and mournful, and they realized the Shaolin Temple had reached a critical juncture of survival or disgrace.

Abbot Xuan Ci single-handedly took on the Great Wheel Bright King, showing he already had the resolve to die for the temple.

Because he could neither order a mass attack nor send the Shaolin disciples to seek refuge in other temples; besides death, there was no escape.

'Good!' Kumarajiva said nonchalantly, raising his voice: 'Whether the Shaolin Temple's fame is empty or not, and whether it will be expelled from the martial world, all depends on the abbot's capability!'

Before his words faded, a loud laugh came from outside the mountain gate; a bold, mighty voice rang out: 'Who dares to expel the Shaolin Temple from the martial world? What big talk!'

Though the voice wasn't particularly loud, it was clearly heard by everyone present.

Everyone stared at each other in shock; Feng Yi was no exception—he felt both surprised and amused, thinking, 'My goodness, does the Shaolin Temple truly have Buddha's blessing? This is insane!'

In the blink of an eye, a burly man flashed out from the doorway of the Mahavira Hall.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a square face; though dressed in plain cloth, his brow still bore a stern aura.

Upon seeing his face, everyone was moved.

Dao Qing Grand Master of Pudu Temple, skilled in reading people, couldn't help but exclaim in admiration: 'What a heroic figure! He has the makings of a great general!'

(End of chapter)