Entering Shaolin

Yellow walls, black tiles, dark red gates. Above them hung a gilded plaque bearing three large characters. Wang Anfeng had studied writing with his father for a time; though the characters looked somewhat different, he could still recognize Shaolin. Only the third character was one he had never seen before.

Just as he was about to ask, the young man had already taken his hand and led him across the ancient gate. His confined view slowly opened up—

Bluish-gray stone slabs stretched beneath his feet, with buildings lining both sides, solemn and dignified in style. Monks in gray and yellow robes conversed or swept the ground, their movements unhurried and full of rhythm. Buddhist bells rang long and clear. Up ahead, on the training ground, nearly a hundred gray-robed Martial Monks could vaguely be seen practicing a set of exceptionally fierce and powerful fist techniques in perfect unison. Every punch and kick displayed the full grandeur of strength and force. Their shouts were like the roars of dragons and tigers.

"Practice its Way!"

"Ha!"

"Move in its circle!"

"Ha!"

"Know its wonder!"

"Ha!"

"Understand its Zen!"

"Ha!"

"This..."

A trace of shock appeared on Wang Anfeng's face, though there was even more bewilderment. With only this single glimpse, the weight and deep foundation accumulated by a great martial sect over a thousand years unfolded magnificently before the boy's eyes. The young man beside him guided him forward at an unhurried pace. Wang Anfeng felt as though his mind had gone hazy. His feet stepped lightly onto the ancient bluestone, while monks chanting sutras and fists tearing through the air sounded on either side. Green leaves from thousand-year-old trees drifted softly onto his shoulder, then were blown away.

He was no longer a spectator. He had truly stepped into this vastness. At his ear, the young man spoke in a calm, measured voice:

"My Shaolin was founded by Patriarch Bodhidharma and has stood for a thousand years. Its foundational inner arts, the Muscle Tendon Change and the Xi Sui Jing, are ranked among the peerless arts beneath heaven. From them evolved many paths of inner cultivation. As for arts of attack, there are the Seventy-two Ultimate Skills. Yet ultimate skills are difficult to obtain. One must cultivate Buddhist teachings to dissolve their killing aura, and one must not greedily seek too much. Since you have only just entered Shaolin, you should first focus on the basics."

"After meeting Abbot Uncle-Master, you will enter Shaolin's gates. There is no need to speak of the monastic rules and precepts: no killing, no sexual misconduct, no drinking, along with many other commandments. Otherwise, the brothers of the Discipline Hall will have words with you. At best, you will be confined for reflection; at worst, your martial arts will be crippled and you will be driven down the mountain. Do you understand?"

"I..."

Wang Anfeng's bewildered eyes stirred. He thought of the Master of the Martial Arts School's boldness in drinking from a great bowl, and how his father and Uncle Li always liked to take a sip or two of mild wine. He asked instinctively:

"I understand the rest, but why can't I drink... The Master of the Martial Arts School said that there is a Mad Spear Guest out in the martial world who loves drinking most of all. He often says drinking is one of life's pleasures. And Green Lotus Guest only produced those exquisite poems passed down through the ages after drinking."

"Because wine can disorder the heart."

The young monk said calmly, "Wine can make a timid man bold, make people say what they dare not say and do what they dare not do. But that is no longer their true nature. If one's nature is truly steadfast, why borrow courage from wine? Instead, it brings forth many troubles."

He turned slightly, gently placed his palm on Wang Anfeng's hair, and rubbed it. His voice became warmer and mellower:

"What I speak of is merely the precepts of our Buddhist school. Those who have left the secular world must not drink. But you are still young and not yet an adult. Even if you did not enter Shaolin, you still should not drink, lest you damage your foundation. Do you understand?"

"Mm, I understand..."

Wang Anfeng looked at the tranquil young man before him and nodded lightly. Though this was their first meeting, he did not know why, but he felt an instinctive closeness to this monk. The man's patient instruction somewhat resembled his father teaching him to read. The young man smiled, raised a hand to rub his head, and said with a smile:

"Good child. Abbot Uncle-Master is in the Mahavira Hall ahead. Come along..."

Guided onward, they crossed the training ground and passed one solemn Buddhist hall after another, until they arrived before the most grand and solemn structure of all. Every inch of it exuded vastness and antiquity. A plaque above bore the words Mahavira Hall, magnificent and imposing. Through the doors and windows, he could see a towering Buddha statue. Before it stood an elderly man in a yellow monk's robe and a red kasaya, his brows and eyes kind and gentle, no different from the Buddha statue beside him, smiling faintly as it held a flower.

The young man led Wang Anfeng inside, raised his left hand before his chest in salute, and said with some respect:

"This disciple greets Abbot Uncle-Master."

"Heh... Yuan Ci, you have traveled down the mountain for several years. Your return to the mountain today is also a joyous occasion..." The old man stroked his white beard, and his kindly gaze fell upon Wang Anfeng. Smiling, he asked, "Is it for the Young Hero behind you?"

"Yes."

Yuan Ci nodded slightly. "This child is named Wang Anfeng, a native of Yanjing. He wishes to roam the martial world and uphold justice, but possesses only a few crude fist-and-kick skills. This disciple saw that he possessed the innocent heart of a child and should become an outstanding figure of the righteous path. Unwilling to see him broken by the martial world, I brought him back to Shaolin. I wish to accept him into my school and teach him martial arts."

Those words made Wang Anfeng's face burn wave after wave, until he could barely lift his head. Yet the old man seemed to harbor not the slightest doubt. He merely uttered, "Amitabha," then smiled and nodded, clearly having believed the account. Wang Anfeng wanted to speak up and deny it, but when he saw Yuan Ci's tranquil face with its hidden concern, he did not know why, but the words of denial simply would not leave his mouth. All he could do was lower his head even further.

Just as his face flushed scarlet, the old man had already walked to his side. He smiled gently. "Child, my Shaolin accepts disciples far and wide, but there are still a few questions I must ask you. Your reason for entering Shaolin is already clear. There is only one question left..." His voice paused slightly. Stroking his white beard, the old man asked solemnly, "If you were to learn martial arts and encountered someone wielding a blade to murder another, what would you do?"

"Murder someone?"

Wang Anfeng answered honestly, "That depends on who he is killing."

"Oh?"

A stream of azure data flashed through the old man's smiling eyes. An intrigued expression appeared on his face as he asked, "How so?"

The boy thought for a moment, then looked at him seriously. "There are many kinds of people. If he is killing a good person, then I will definitely stop him. If he is killing an evil person, then I will not interfere. There are so many people in the world, but if there is one less evil person, that is a good thing for everyone."

The old man asked with a smile, "But evil people are people too. They are lives too. Wouldn't that make you too cruel?"

"Cru... el?"

The boy looked at him. First there was astonishment in his eyes, then it turned into indignation as he shouted:

"Evil people hurt many, many good people!"

"Evil people are people, and their lives are lives, but good people are people too, and their lives are lives too!"

"I don't want to learn martial arts here. Uncle Yuan Ci, please take me down the mountain..."

"Hehe, interesting, interesting. Child, there are far more ways to eliminate evil than killing alone. Killing one evil person merely kills one evil person. But if you reform an evil person, then you save a life, the world has one less evil person, and one more good person. Would that not be better?"

The old man was not angry in the slightest. He simply explained with a warm laugh, causing Wang Anfeng to freeze slightly. His face felt a little awkward, but without realizing it, a new line of thought had appeared in his mind. At that moment, the old man had already turned to Yuan Ci beside him, nodded, and smiled:

"This child's nature is good, but he carries a strong urge to kill in order to protect life. He may enter your school. Guide him in proper cultivation, and do not let him stray down a crooked path."

"Yes."

Yuan Ci bowed slightly, then led Wang Anfeng out of the Mahavira Hall. Even then, the boy was still somewhat dazed. Looking at the young man beside him, he asked:

"Uncle Yuan Ci..."

"Call me Master."

"...Yes, Master. That old grandpa just said evil people can be turned into good people. How do you do that..." Wang Anfeng scratched his head and asked honestly. "I truly cannot figure it out."

"..."

The young man fell silent for a moment, then replied:

"Beat them until they submit."