Chen Du sat cross-legged in a grotto on the back mountain of the Hanging Temple and opened the Mahavairocana True Scripture.
The scripture was written in ancient Sanskrit, every character like gold. Each stroke contained the writer's comprehension of Buddhist teachings.
Unlike the ethereal elegance of the Cloud Sea Heart Sutra, the Mahavairocana True Scripture followed a path of utmost hardness and yang, illuminating all beneath its light.
It took the dharma form of Mahavairocana as its foundation; wherever its light shone, no evil could encroach.
He read slowly. With every sentence, the heaven-defying comprehension deep within his consciousness began working furiously, breaking down the mysteries of the scripture alongside all the martial arts he had created over the past four years.
The dharma form of the Immovable Wisdom King from the Wisdom King Vajra Art,
The Cloud Sea Heavenly Scripture's way of shaping cloud qi into forms,
The fragments and incomplete chapters of hundreds of Buddhist martial arts from Qianchuan Hall,
All of them were swept into this vast deduction.
The Wisdom King was the wrathful aspect of the Buddha, while Mahavairocana was the Buddha's pure dharma body.
One wrathful, one compassionate; one hard, one soft. They seemed opposed, yet sprang from the same source.
The Wisdom King Vajra Art focused on defense, while the Mahavairocana True Scripture focused on attack. If the Wisdom King Vajra Art was a shield as immovable as a mountain, then the Mahavairocana True Scripture was a light that shone in all ten directions.
Only by merging the two into one, uniting offense and defense and cultivating both inner and outer aspects, could he achieve a truly supreme Buddhist martial art.
He turned the final page of the scripture, and golden light blazed deep within his consciousness.
[You have read the innate martial arts manual "Mahavairocana True Scripture." Drawing upon your accumulated experience from creating martial arts, your heaven-defying comprehension has been triggered. You have comprehended the martial arts myth-level art "Great Sun Tathagata Divine Palm"!]
[Great Sun Tathagata Divine Palm: A martial arts myth-level art and the supreme Buddhist palm technique. With the dharma form of Mahavairocana as its foundation, a single palm strike spreads Buddha's light in all ten directions, breaking through all things.
Wherever Buddha's light reaches, all evil recoils and no demon can encroach. It forms the inner and outer halves of a whole with the Wisdom King Vajra Art: the Wisdom King is the shield, the Tathagata the sword. Shield and sword unite, offense and defense share a source, and together they form a complete system. Note: This martial art and the Wisdom King Vajra Art complement each other. Cultivating both doubles their power.]
Chen Du opened his eyes and looked down at his hands.
A faint "wan" pattern of light appeared on his left palm. Its golden glow was restrained, yet it radiated a hint of utmost yang power.
The three-ringed vajra seal on the back of his right hand also quietly emerged, its dark golden lines reflecting the Buddha's light of Mahavairocana.
One bright and one dark, one for attack and one for defense, like the two poles of yin and yang achieving perfect balance within him.
He raised his left hand and gently struck out toward the mouth of the grotto.
A ray of Buddha's light poured from his palm, silently crossing a hundred zhang of empty space to shine upon a boulder on the mountain opposite.
Under the Buddha's light, the boulder left only a circular gap in the mountainside, smooth as a mirror.
Chen Du had comprehended another martial arts myth-level art, and his strength had greatly increased.
Before long, half a month had passed.
The Hanging Temple's scripture repository was no smaller than Qianchuan Hall.
Eight hundred years' worth of Western Regions Buddhist martial arts were collected there, from introductory fist techniques to Houtian ultimate arts, their volumes as vast as a sea of smoke.
Chen Du stayed at the temple for a full half month, reading day and night and working his way through the entire system of Buddhist martial arts from beginning to end.
Though these martial arts did not point directly to the Xiantian realm like the Mahavairocana True Scripture, their strength lay in the completeness of their system.
Each one was a branch or leaf on the towering tree of Buddhist martial arts, making his understanding of the Buddhist Martial Dao more complete.
At first, the monks of the Hanging Temple had been somewhat reserved around an outsider like him. But when they saw him spend his days immersed in the scripture repository, reading with even greater concentration than the temple's own monks, they gradually let down their guard.
A few young monks plucked up the courage to ask him about difficulties in their martial arts. Chen Du casually gave them a few pointers, and enlightenment washed over them like a libation of sacred nectar, allowing them to break through on the spot.
Word spread, and a long line formed outside the scripture repository. In the end, the old abbot had to step in and persuade the monks to leave.
Half a month later, Chen Du bid the old abbot farewell. The old abbot accompanied him to the mountain gate and put his palms together. "Benefactor, you have an affinity with Buddha. If you have time in the future, please come visit again."
Chen Du returned the gesture, then turned and rode a cloud away.
With two martial arts myth-level arts at his disposal, his strength grew with every passing moment.
His final stop was the Sword Pavilion in the East Sea.
On the shore of the East Sea.
Chen Du had spent three days searching along the coast.
Information on the Sword Pavilion was pitifully scarce. All the jianghu knew was that it stood on a solitary island beyond the East Sea. But the East Sea was vast, its islands scattered like stars, and searching them one by one was no different from fishing for a needle in the sea.
He was in no hurry. At sunrise, he rode the waves out to sea; at sunset, he returned to shore to rest. In his spare time, he meditated on the reefs and watched the tides rise and fall.
That evening, the setting sun melted into gold, dyeing the sea crimson.
Sitting on a reef, Chen Du spotted an old fisherman in the distance, leisurely poling a small boat toward him from the horizon where sea met sky.
The fisherman wore a bamboo hat and a straw rain cape. He held a green bamboo pole, with a thin line hanging from its tip, looking like an utterly ordinary seaside angler.
Chen Du watched him for a while, then suddenly smiled knowingly.
He had searched these waters back and forth for several days. They were riddled with hidden currents, and ordinary fishing boats did not dare approach them. Yet this old fisherman was angling here at his leisure, which was unusual in itself.
The little boat reached shore. The old fisherman reeled in his line, planted the bamboo pole in the sand, and looked up at Chen Du.
Beneath the bamboo hat was a face weathered by sea winds, its wrinkles as deep as knife cuts, yet its eyes were astonishingly bright.
"Young man," the old fisherman said, his voice hoarse but full of vigor, "are you looking for the Sword Pavilion?"
Chen Du was not surprised. He rose from the reef and cupped his hands. "Indeed. I wish to see the Sword Pavilion's Xiantian ultimate art."
The old fisherman grinned, revealing teeth yellowed by the sea wind. "You want to see the Sword Pavilion's ultimate art? Easy. Beat me, and I'll hand over the Sword Pavilion's inheritance with both hands."
Before his words had faded, he flicked his wrist. The green bamboo pole pulled free of the sand and landed in his hand.
The bamboo pole was no longer a bamboo pole. Its shaft remained perfectly still, yet an invisible sword intent took shape at its tip.
The old fisherman's gaze sharpened like a sword's edge. His straw cape stirred without wind, and the aura around him climbed higher and higher.
Sword intent at the peak of the innate realm swept outward like a raging tide. It stirred up the fine sand on the beach, forming a wave of sand more than a zhang high behind him.
"I lived in seclusion beyond the sea for thirty years, believing myself invincible under heaven."
The old fisherman swung the bamboo pole.
A bolt of sword light slashed through the air like a strip of white silk. Wherever it passed, it plowed a deep trench through the sea, sending water surging to either side and exposing the reefs on the seabed.
"I never imagined there would be heavens beyond the heavens, and people beyond people."
Chen Du struck out with his palm. The Buddha's light of the Great Sun Tathagata Divine Palm lit up in its center, the "swastika" pattern intertwining with the golden radiance.
The palm strike carried no earth-shaking force, only a light of utmost purity that silently met the sword light capable of cleaving the sky and splitting the sea.
Before the Buddha's light, the sword light melted away inch by inch. It was not shattered, but delivered!
The Buddha's light faded, the sea grew calm again, and the sword light vanished.
The old fisherman looked down at the bamboo pole in his hand. Fine cracks covered its shaft.
He was silent for a long while. Then he planted the bamboo pole in the ground and gave a bitter smile. There was desolation in that smile, but more than that, there was relief.
"A fine palm technique. I have wielded a sword for sixty years, yet only today do I understand that the Martial Dao has no end."
As he spoke, the fisherman reached into his robes and took out a sword manual. It was bound from thin plates forged of East Sea black iron, cold and heavy to the touch. Four ancient seal-script characters were engraved on the cover... "Nine Swords of Heaven’s Inquiry."
The old fisherman held out the sword manual with both hands. "The Sword Pavilion's inheritance is here. Please, take it."