Chapter 49: It is not the wind that moves, it is not the banner that moves; it is the heart of the benevolent that moves

"Amitabha."

The gaunt old monk chanted a Buddhist name, using his profound internal energy to steady his mind and forcibly expel the strange power interfering with him, then said:

"The martial arts the little monk has created are truly vicious; they do not resemble the martial arts of our Buddha at all. Are you not afraid that one day, you will be harmed by them?"

"Martial arts are merely dead things; how could they harm anyone?" Zhuang Buran dispersed the aura swirling around his body and laughed:

"This martial art of mine uses the various unique skills within the temple, transforming them into physical manifestations capable of cultivating the myriad states of the world. By doing so, I stimulate my own strength. Once I have mastered the basics, I can dissolve all thirty-two manifestations, merging them into a single unified form. This concentrates my entire body's strength; once unleashed, nothing can withstand it."

"Only when one can freely control this strength, until it can be retracted or released at will, and the force is applied with perfect precision, does one truly need a corresponding foundation in Buddhist studies to advance further."

As he said this, the smile on his face grew even deeper:

"If one lacks profound cultivation in Buddhist dharma, one must possess immense luck. Without both, it is absolutely impossible to cultivate it to perfection."

"And my 'Dharma-Extinguishing Five-Precepts Turbid World Manifestation' is the true form condensed after witnessing the true nature of suchness; thus, it possesses the fearless and dauntless power to subdue demons."

"From now on, I am no longer confined to generating power through dharma manifestations. With only the divine intent remaining, I can reach the realm where the divine intent moves and strength is born, injuring others while sitting perfectly still."

"It is truly an extraordinary divine art that can be called invincible," the gaunt old monk sighed:

"However, observing the true form the little monk has condensed, I have a word—I do not know if I should speak it or not?"

"Naturally, you should not speak it," the young monk replied lazily:

"I know that the starting point of what you, old monk, want to say is good, but once you start saying it, it will not be good."

"It seems the little monk knows exactly what I want to say." The gaunt old monk gave a bitter smile.

Zhuang Buran stood up, placing the scripture in his hand back in its original place while saying:

"I have finished reading the Buddhist scriptures in the temple, and I have read enough of the Daoist scriptures I found. What I have practiced is still lacking, so I might as well go down the mountain for a walk. I will trouble you, old monk, to speak to my master and the abbot for me."

"I believe you certainly have a way to make the abbot not mind my leaving the temple without cause."

Watching the young monk's departing back, the gaunt old monk could not help but shout:

"Little monk, remember that you are a monk who has left the secular world."

Zhuang Buran waved his hand casually and, without looking back, said:

"Old monk, you watched me grow up; how can you not know that I have never liked to bother with the affairs of the red dust, nor do I like to meddle in others' business."

"If we speak of the attachment of monks in this world to the secular world, I feel that I am the most pure-hearted and desireless."

Having said this, he had already disappeared from the gaunt old monk's line of sight.

After a long while, the gaunt old monk sighed inexplicably:

"Sigh, being pure-hearted and desireless cannot be achieved by words alone. After this departure, I only hope you will not become a demon king who returns stepping on a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood."

Half a month later.

The back mountain of the main peak of Wuliang Mountain.

A young man in a green shirt, with a jade-like appearance and a bright, gentle demeanor, was fleeing in a panic. He only heard someone behind him shout loudly:

"Ahead is the forbidden ground of our sect; no outsider is allowed to enter without permission. If you take a few more steps forward, you will violate the taboos of our sect, and you will be left without a place to be buried."

The young man had only been focused on fleeing headlong. Upon hearing the shout from behind, he could not help but look up, and he saw a large waterfall pouring straight down from a high cliff in the northwest corner, like the Milky Way hanging upside down.

Immediately, he increased his running speed, but suddenly froze, catching a glimpse of a white shadow sweeping down not far away, and then he stepped into empty air, falling toward the bottom of the cliff.

"Ah!"

A scream echoed endlessly in the deep valley below the cliff.

Before long, the young man, now in tattered clothes and with multiple injuries on his body, climbed down to the valley floor in a rather disheveled state. Suddenly, he saw a familiar yet strange white shadow by a crystal-clear lake and hurriedly shouted:

"Immortal, save me!"

Seeing that the white shadow seemed not to have heard and was walking further and further along the lake, he hurriedly chased after it.

Not long after, he saw the white shadow in the distance stop in front of a huge rock.

He ran over without stopping, and when he reached the back of the white shadow, panting for breath, he discovered it was a monk. A happier smile appeared on his face, and he said:

"I am Duan Yu, greetings, Great Master."

"This monk is no Great Master; my dharma name is Xu Zhu."

Upon hearing this, Duan Yu walked in front of the monk and discovered that this was a young monk with an extremely handsome appearance that was unforgettable. Judging by his age, he felt he was even younger than himself.

"Little Master, just now I saw you leap down from the high cliff; you must have extraordinary martial arts. Could you trouble yourself to take me out of this predicament?"

"See this rock?" Zhuang Buran gestured:

"There is a small rock underneath. If you remove the vines and creepers between the two, push aside the mud and sand, and then reach out to push this large rock, you will find the path to escape."

Duan Yu was overjoyed. Without a shred of doubt, he did as the young monk said. Afterward, he pushed the large rock with all his might, and he saw the rock slowly rotate, opening like a large door, revealing a cave three feet high.

"Little Master, you are truly divine; there really is a different world behind the large rock."

Zhuang Buran did not reply, ignoring the pitch-black darkness inside the cave, and walked in with large strides.

"Little Master, wait for me!" Duan Yu hurriedly followed, vaguely seeing the young monk moving freely in the darkness, and could not help but admire him in his heart:

"It seems my guess was correct. Don't look at how young this Little Master Xu Zhu is; he must have profound martial arts cultivation, otherwise, how could he be unaffected by the cave environment."

A moment later, the crisp "clack-clack" of a door knocker echoed through the cave, followed by a "boom" as the young monk pushed open a heavy door cast from copper and iron.

Then came the sound of the door being pushed further, and the cave was illuminated; a crystal the size of a copper basin cast a clear light over the area where the two stood.

"So this is the bottom of Sword Lake. The owner who built this place is likely long gone; everything is covered in rust."

Duan Yu surveyed the stone chamber and spoke with a leisurely air:

"But I must say, building such a place at the bottom of a lake must have required a great deal of effort."

Zhuang Buran still had no interest in chatting; he walked around the stone chamber a few times on his own, then suddenly stopped before a stone wall with a crack, reached out, and pushed. The wall transformed into a stone door, revealing an opening.

After he entered, Duan Yu, thinking it was the path to escape, hurriedly followed.

Once inside, he saw the young monk standing before a white jade statue of a beautiful woman. When he looked at the statue's face, he was instantly stunned, unable to help but mutter in a daze:

"Fairy Sister, I, Duan Yu, have seen your beautiful face today and have no regrets in death. Living here alone in seclusion, Sister, you must be quite lonely."

At the same time, Zhuang Buran seemed not to care about Duan Yu at all; he half-knelt on the prayer mat before the jade statue, pulled with a bit of force, and revealed a silk bundle about a foot long.

Ignoring the fine lines of text written on the white silk, he opened the bundle, took out a rolled-up scroll, and spread it on the ground. The first line read "North Dark Divine Art," followed by thirty-six illustrations of a naked woman demonstrating acupoints and cultivation techniques.

"This—"

After Duan Yu regained his senses, he glanced at it and felt as if struck by lightning; the existence he had just regarded as a Fairy Sister had been drawn in the nude, without reservation.

Especially seeing the portraits—some happy, some sad, some with affectionate gazes, others with light pouts or thin anger—each with a different expression, he felt as if his heart were being cut by a knife.

"Little Master, you are a monk; how can you look at these..."

Duan Yu stopped mid-sentence. It was one thing for the Fairy Sister to be drawn in such a way, but now that she was being viewed by another person, he felt even more stifled and hurriedly advised:

"As a monk..."

Before he could finish, the young monk interrupted him unhurriedly:

"Form is emptiness, emptiness is form; form does not differ from emptiness, emptiness does not differ from form. Feeling, perception, volition, and consciousness are also like this."

"Donor Duan, a monk should understand Buddhist principles better than you."

"That may be so, but isn't it ultimately inappropriate for you to look at someone else's private things like this?" Duan Yu said with an indescribable expression.

"Once, the wind blew the banner. One monk said the wind was moving, another said the banner was moving. They argued endlessly. Huineng stepped forward and said: It is not the wind moving, nor the banner moving; it is the hearts of the benevolent that are moving."

Zhuang Buran replied casually while looking at the illustrations:

"When a monk views these illustrations, his eyes are empty and his heart is empty. Where is the inappropriateness?"

"It is clearly Donor Duan whose heart is fluttering, leading you to first become infatuated with the white jade statue, and then to develop improper delusions about these illustrations."

(End of chapter)