Chapter 48: The Dharma Eradicates the Five Heinous Crimes in a Turbid World

The hour when the setting sun sank.

A young monk in plain white robes entered the Cangjingge, then, familiar with the way, came to a quiet corner on the first floor, bent over, and pulled out several decent-looking Buddhist scriptures.

He sat cross-legged straight away and began to read leisurely.

After the time it takes to finish a cup of tea, a thin old monk in tattered blue robes, holding a broom, came sweeping slowly.

"Old monk, why do I always feel you're doing this on purpose?" Zhuang Buran said without lifting his head.

"Every time you come to sweep the room just when I'm reading the sutras."

The thin old monk's few long whiskers were all white; he moved slowly, looking weak and listless, sweeping the ground slowly.

"I have examined Buddhist scriptures for most of my life, yet I have never seen a sutra whose opening line reads: 'Heaven and Earth is the gate of the Book of Changes, the mother of all hexagrams.'"

"Nor have I ever seen a sutra named 'Peace' that seeks the harmonious beauty of the spacetime dynamics of heaven, earth, and man."

"Old monk, you're so rude, rummaging through others' belongings." The young monk didn't mind, replying with a smile.

"You're a Buddhist disciple; why do you keep reading scriptures that only Daoists would study?" The thin old monk said, his tone hinting at surprise.

Zhuang Buran raised his eyes and asked with a smile:

"If I say that Buddhism is essentially Daoism, would you want to slap me to death with one palm?"

The thin old monk sighed lightly:

"Alas, who would have thought that throughout the temple, the ever-clear-minded, amiable yet dignified Xu Zhu Little Monk, whose Buddhist cultivation is not shallow, would privately behave so listlessly?"

"What the old monk says isn't quite right; my master knew from childhood that I have no ambition, just drifting along." Zhuang Buran corrected lazily.

"No ambition, just drifting along?" The thin old monk showed a hint of helplessness:

"You, who only started martial arts at twenty-two and know only a set of Arhat Fist, are truly the complete you?"

The young monk replied unhurriedly:

"Among the temple's fellow disciples and uncles, who doesn't know that I have poor foundations, mediocre martial talent, and that learning one fist style per year is already my utmost effort?"

"You speak such falsehoods; do you realize you've already broken the precepts?" The thin old monk shook his head slightly.

"But what I say is common knowledge throughout the temple!"

Seeing the thin old monk silent, the young monk closed the scripture in his hand:

"Alright, then I must speak the truth: I have been a monk since childhood, accompanying the ancient Buddha under the green lamp for twenty-three years, and by the age of twenty I had already mastered many Buddhist scriptures, so there is nothing left to read in the sutras; I can only turn to Daoist texts."

The corners of his eyes lifted slightly, carrying a hint of a half-smile.

"With such an answer, are you satisfied, old monk?"

"Just by saying that?" The thin old monk stood still and looked over.

"Old monk, you see me with an eternally youthful appearance; how can you say I'm relying only on words?" The young monk seemed puzzled.

The thin old monk, unsure whether to believe it or not, only said:

"Everyone in the temple says your Buddhist affinity is deep, that you accumulated vast merit in past lives, altering your appearance with this blessed countenance, yet they do not think it comes from mastering many Buddhist sutras and cultivating this appearance."

Zhuang Buran smiled at the corners of his mouth and asked out of the blue:

"Old monk, you said that besides Bodhidharma, is there anyone in the world capable of mastering all Seventy-Two Absolute Skills?"

"Although the manuals of the Seventy-Two Absolute Skills have always been kept in this pavilion, and disciples are never forbidden to browse them, since the founding of Shaolin Temple, throughout history only Bodhidharma has ever mastered all the skills."

The thin old monk continued speaking slowly:

"Because each of the Seventy-Two Absolute Skills can harm vital points, take lives, is fierce and cruel, and disrupts heavenly harmony; therefore, mastering each one requires a corresponding compassionate Buddhist practice to resolve it."

"Unfortunately, this principle is not known to everyone in the temple; only after practicing four or five of the skills and gaining some insight in Chan can one gradually sense the obstacle."

"Precisely for this reason, your grand-uncle Xuancheng, with his transcendent martial cultivation, though he forcefully mastered thirteen of the skills and was praised by senior monks as the temple's foremost martial artist in two hundred years, nevertheless, in a single night, his meridians were all severed, rendering him a cripple."

"This is due to insufficient Buddhist cultivation while forcefully studying multiple superior martial arts, leading to the fate of going berserk."

Having said this, his gaze fell upon the young monk.

"Everyone who comes to the Cangjingge in the temple first searches for their favorite of the Seventy-Two Absolute Skills; when I first saw you, I saw you wandering east and west in the pavilion, looking here and there, searching nonstop, and I assumed you were also looking for the skills."

"But instead, you cast all those skills aside and began reading the sutras on your own."

"Hahaha, didn't you, old monk, at that time look at me with new eyes, deeming me a promising talent destined to become a generation-defining divine or holy monk in Buddhism?"

Zhuang Buran shifted the conversation:

"Old monk, over the past twenty-plus years, I have read every sutra you have read, and also every sutra you have not read."

"We are all monks; what use is there in employing compassionate Buddhism to harmonize and dispel the hostility generated by practicing the skills?"

"You can deceive outsiders, or pretend to be an exalted person, coax the monks inside the temple, and surely you'll succeed every time you try, fooling them with a single trick."

"What lofty views do you have, little monk?" The thin old monk's expression remained unchanged.

"Outsiders, unfamiliar with our Buddhist terminology, rely solely on their innate aptitude to train hard; the more they practice, the more they inevitably develop chronic ailments."

"Temple insiders, lacking sufficient aptitude and comprehension, yet insist on mastering multiple skills—how could they avoid going berserk?"

"As the saying goes, a person should know their own limits; if they fail to recognize their own capabilities, they inevitably bring about self-immolation."

"As for our temple's Seventy-Two Absolute Skills, aside from the Yi Jing Marrow-Washing Two Classics, there is no skill I haven't examined; they are merely divided into the aspects of substance and function."

Zhuang Buran said faintly:

"Do you also know, old monk, that although my foundations are poor, I consider my comprehension not inferior to anyone in the world?"

He seemed afraid the thin old monk hadn't grasped the implication, and continued with deep meaning:

"Whether in ancient times, the present, or the future, I am never inferior to others."

"Little monk, you're breaking the precepts again." The thin old monk reminded him.

"It's just speaking the truth; how could that violate the precept against self-praise and disparaging others?" Zhuang Buran said offhandedly.

"Actually, I don't need to come specially to the Cangjingge to look for skills; there are who knows how many living secret manuals in the temple—just a brief glance at their training scenes makes everything clear to me."

"Thus, these years have not been wasted; using the various skills, I have thoroughly perfected the martial art I created."

The thin old monk's face showed not a trace of surprise, and he said:

It seems the old monk's guess was correct; the little monk has indeed trained an extraordinary martial art, which is why he now bears such a blessed appearance.

The old monk wouldn't think that the little monk, by practicing this martial art, gains the ability to keep eternal youth. Zhuang Buran gave a light laugh:

With the little monk's comprehension, how could he have created only one martial art?

In the world's martial arts, first refine essence, i. e., train the body; then practice qi, cultivate internal true qi; upon reaching the peak, one can refine spirit; using Buddhist words, it means to illuminate the mind and see nature, break ignorance, and perceive the true nature of suchness.

He sat half in lotus, placing his left foot on his right thigh, so that the toes of his left foot aligned with his right knee, and the toes of his right foot aligned with his left knee.

The little monk then transformed all the supreme skills within the temple into the thirty-two aspects of my martial art, making it more profound and extensive, no longer limited to oneself; and this "Great Diamond Divine Power" is the supreme art capable of refining spirit.

The young monk's vital energy suddenly surged, and a mysterious divine intention coiled around his whole body, causing the emaciated old monk to feel an alien force invading his meridians, burning his mind and spirit; he instantly felt as if he had fallen into hell, suffering unbearably.

This is the little monk's martial art nearing the state of great completion.

Zhuang Buran said lightly:

The five grave sins are the karmic cause of the Avici Hell; committing this sin, one will at death fall into the Avici Hell, called the "Dharma-extinguishing Five Rebellions Turbid World Appearance".

(End of chapter)