Chapter 47

Below the Five Milk Peaks of Mount Shaoshi, the blue stone steps wind upward, and where the moss is mottled, the footprints of generations of pilgrims can be faintly seen.

Two thousand-year-old ginkgo trees stand on either side of the mountain gate, yet where the vermilion lacquer on the gate has faded, the wood grain shows through, and the plaque above bears the three characters 'Shaolin Temple' in iron‑brush silver‑hook calligraphy.

Inside the temple, in a relatively secluded meditation room.

A monk named Huilun, about thirty years old and of ordinary appearance, sits cross‑legged, and below him sits likewise a seven‑ or eight‑year‑old little monk in gray robes.

"Xu Zhu, your talent for martial arts is poor, basically nothing; we are monastics outside the world, and it's possible we'll never leave the temple in our whole lives, so the strength of one's martial arts doesn't matter much."

Huilun said this, adding emphasis:

"But as a monastic, Buddhist practice is very important; I've had you study the Diamond Sutra these past days—what insights have you gained?"

One could see that the little monk in gray robes had a rare tranquil aura; he spoke in an orderly manner:

"Master, through regular study, I have come to see that all phenomena mentioned in the sutras are illusory; if one sees phenomena yet is not attached to them, one has gained some insight into the Tathagata."

Huilun, upon hearing this, immediately asked:

"What does the character 'xiang' mean?"

"'Xiang' means phenomenon, referring to all things in the world that can be seen or felt," the little monk in gray robes replied.

"Although this is rather superficial, it's not wrong," Huilun then asked:

"What is illusion?"

The little monk in gray robes spoke slowly and calmly:

"What is called illusion is not to deny its existence, but to point out that all phenomena arise from causes and conditions, are impermanent and lack intrinsic nature—that is, they have no independent, unchanging essence; to cling to appearances as real is illusion."

Huilun's face could not hide his surprise, and he couldn't help but ask further:

"What does 'seeing phenomena yet not being attached to them' mean?"

"Transcending discriminating attachment to phenomena, perceiving their empty nature, the Tathagata spoken of in the sutra is likely not the Buddha himself but the realized true nature."

After the little monk in gray robes finished speaking, Huilun sighed:

"Xu Zhu, you are born with wisdom roots; if you wholeheartedly pursue study, you will surely become a great monk of an era."

"Master, you overpraise me." The little monk in gray robes seemed to reveal his true nature, a lazy smile appearing on his face:

"All I want is to live peacefully in the temple, preferably staying within the rules, without seeking advancement, just passing this life."

Huilun lightly shook his head:

"For a moment, I, as master, cannot tell whether the earlier little monk with profound Buddha-nature or the present unambitious little monk is my disciple."

"Master, do you know where I gained those insights just now?" The little monk in gray robes asked and answered himself:

"Although I have never clearly distinguished beauty from ugliness, by observing my fellow disciples of the same generation and using water as a mirror to examine my own face closely—a large, flat, sunken nose, protruding ears, thick lips—I naturally came to understand the word 'ugly'."

"Perhaps because I am still young, I cannot truly be called ugly, but the two words 'cute-ugly' truly apply."

"Furthermore, the monastic brothers in the temple surely know my appearance is not good, yet none of them mocks me."

"Thus, how could I not have a preliminary understanding of the 'phenomena' in the Diamond Sutra? I gradually came to understand the distinctions of beauty and ugliness, gain and loss, success and failure, and realized that one should meet the world with an equal mind."

"This also means I realize I am still caught up in the self‑attachment of the 'self‑phenomenon'."

Huilun seems more extroverted in nature, his expression becoming increasingly excited:

"Master, I was not mistaken in you; you indeed have considerable wisdom roots; based on your insight into the Dharma, in twenty or thirty years you will likely be able to enter the Hall of Verification where senior monks cultivate the Dharma."

"Master, why not the Dharma Hall?" the little monk in gray robes asked with a smile.

"That's wishful thinking; the Dharma Hall is a key place in our temple, and without profound martial arts attainment one is not qualified to enter. Among the martial uncles and elders of the Xuan generation, there are over thirty, all highly skilled, yet only eight are qualified to enter the Dharma Hall."

"Not to mention the Dharma Hall; the main focus of the Prajna Hall is external martial arts of our sect, and the Bodhi Hall studies swordplay and various esoteric weapons—given your martial aptitude, you would hardly qualify for either."

"Even the Arhat Hall would be a stretch for you."

"And the Precept Hall, Guest Hall, and Medicine King Hall—given your usual lax demeanor, you would hardly gain entry there either."

"Master, I think you missed one." The little monk in gray robes chuckled:

"I think the Sutra Storage Pavilion would suit me well; I would only need to sweep and tidy the scriptures each day."

"Rascal, you really are consistent in word and deed—only knowing how to drift along, getting by."

After Huilun laughed and scolded, thinking of his disciple's concern about appearance, he couldn't help but say:

"There is no distinction between beauty and ugliness; appearance arises from the mind. If you wholeheartedly cultivate from now on, your looks will naturally improve day by day."

The little monk in gray robes nodded seriously:

"Master, I also think so; cultivation is hardly such an inconvenient thing."

Huilun blinked in puzzlement, feeling that what his disciple said seemed different from what he meant; his original intention was that after gaining deep Buddhist knowledge he could break his self‑attachment, and then appearance would be irrelevant.

Seeing the little monk in gray robes take it seriously, appearing to have fully understood, Huilun saw no point in saying more and sent him off to do today's lessons.

A side room of the meditation chamber.

The little monk in gray robes sat cross‑legged, while silently reciting the sutras, his mind bored and wandering:

"Indeed, it really is a pit as usual; I thought I could go to a world of higher power than the Condor Heroes world, but it turned out to be the Heavenly Dragon world, and I became a seven‑year‑old Xu Zhu, with a bunch of vexing matters clinging to me."

Zhuang Buran immersed his mind and spirit in the depths of his brow, and there he saw a faint, illusory half‑body arhat image, which then emitted a divine sound:

"'With the wrathful eyes of the Vajra, I kill but do not save; this too is compassion. May you reap the fruit of the wisdom‑mind practice, not forget your original aspiration, and attain the bodhisattva fruit.'"

The little monk in gray robes remained silent for a while, then murmured:

"To be able to further penetrate the inner essence of all things in the world, not be veiled by complex appearances—that is, this increase is the insight into essence."

He slightly raised the corners of his mouth:

"'What does it matter which world? In my previous life I exhausted my lifetime seeking a reverse birth; that is merely the path of an ordinary person.'"

"'This lifetime, Zhuang Buran simply changes his main path, to see if he can grasp a thread of the essence of heaven and earth, and master the changes of all things in the world.'"

Time flies like a white horse passing a gap; sixteen years seem to have passed in an instant.

Unbeknownst to anyone, the cute‑ugly little monk of Shaolin Temple, as he grew older, underwent a transformation akin to shedding the old self and being reborn.

In the eyes of many monks of the Xu generation, if he had not been seen growing up right before their eyes, they would think he had become a completely different person; consequently, even without mentioning the Hui generation, most of the highest‑ranking Xuan‑generation elders of the present day have heard of him.

And for a while, Huilun puzzled over his disciple, unable to imagine that the initially unsightly gray-robed little monk would turn out like this today.

He had a stunning appearance that left one breathless, skin like snow, as if jade formed from condensed moonlight, exuding a faint, cold radiance.

His figure was tall and slender, his steps light as if walking on clouds, his nose bridge high and straight, his lip color faint like cherry blossoms, and the corners of his mouth often bore a barely-there smile.

Although he was already twenty-three, he looked no older than about seventeen.

Precisely because of this excellent appearance, he was directly appointed to the Guest Hall, showing his reputation within the temple.

Moreover, after he became a guest monk, the number of visitors increased at a visible pace; even though the head of the Guest Hall, Great Master Xuanjing, was a capable administrator, he found his attitude toward a certain young monk improving day by day.

(End of Chapter)