Meditation Scripture! Mediocre Talent!

At dawn, by the edge of the broad training ground.

Su Haoran wore gray monk's robes and dragged a broom along, laboriously sweeping the Mountain Road while looking toward the training ground.

His eyes were filled with undisguised envy.

"Ha!"

"Hah!"

From the training ground came shouts like thunder, soaring into the heavens.

Several dozen brawny Martial Monks stood bare-chested in horse stances, twisting their waists and punching. Every move was fierce and forceful, their Fist Wind even kicking up a thin wave of dust across the training ground.

And he himself...

Name: Su Haoran

Status: Weak (Hungry)!

Cultivation Methods: Meditation Scripture (Initiation), Arhat Fist (Not Mastered)

The faint-red word "Hungry" reminded Su Haoran of his current plight.

"Sigh, when will I ever be able to eat a truly filling meal?"

"With nothing in my stomach, even if I wanted to cultivate, I simply have no strength."

Dragging the heavy broom in his hand, Su Haoran thought helplessly.

Three months ago, he had still been an ordinary person in another world, carefree and without worries.

An accident had sent him into the body of a refugee boy with the same name. Prajna Temple had taken him in, and he had become one of the temple's lowest-ranking Sweeping Monk Disciples.

Those black-clothed Martial Monks before him, however, were Prajna Temple's Formal Disciples. They were the temple's face and its guarantee of force, and their treatment was as different from that of Sweeping Monk Disciples as heaven and earth.

They ate three meals a day, every meal made with refined rice and White Flour. Every few days, there would even be large chunks of fatty meat stewed in pots, their fragrance drifting for half a li.

Meanwhile, servants like him had to rise before dawn every day to work—sweeping, carrying water, chopping firewood, planting vegetables... all the rough and exhausting work fell to them. In return, they received only two Coarse Grain Steamed Buns that could choke a man to death, along with a bowl of vegetable soup so clear it reflected one's face.

"They say the coarse grains and clear soup are meant to temper the mind, but isn't it really just because they have no money?"

Su Haoran sighed inwardly, yet he could not bring himself to blame the temple for being miserly.

It was the end of the dynasty, and the world was in chaos. To survive, common folk either fled to the hills to become bandits or sought shelter with the Buddhist and Daoist Sects.

Thus, around Prajna Temple, there were as many Sweeping Monk Disciples like Su Haoran as one could want. The fact that Prajna Temple was willing to take him in and give him a bite to eat was already immense compassion.

But Su Haoran was unwilling to accept it.

"I may be a servant, but I'm still a servant with a system! I can't spend my whole life cowering like this, unable to afford even four dishes."

"Fortunately, Prajna Temple treats everyone equally when teaching basic cultivation methods. They do not discriminate against servants like us."

At that thought, Su Haoran recalled the two basic Kung Fu methods the monks had taught during Initiation.

The "Meditation Scripture" and the "Arhat Fist."

The "Meditation Scripture" was an Internal Cultivation Method. It emphasized calming the heart, focusing the mind, and tempering one's state of mind. It was said that cultivating it to profound heights brought all manner of unimaginable wonders.

The "Arhat Fist," meanwhile, was an External Martial Arts style and the foundation of Prajna Temple's many profound martial arts. Its techniques were fierce and powerful, opening and closing with grand force.

Unfortunately, for Su Haoran, who could barely fill his stomach, cultivating the fierce and domineering "Arhat Fist" was nothing more than a fool's dream.

Practicing martial arts consumed a tremendous amount of strength.

After finishing his heavy daily chores, his bones already felt as though they had fallen apart. The pitiful reserves in his stomach could barely sustain his everyday activities—where could he find spare strength to practice boxing?

Forcing himself to cultivate would only speed up the depletion of his body.

Su Haoran had seen more than once how Sweeping Monk Disciples forced themselves to practice Arhat Fist during morning lessons, only to suddenly collapse.

Therefore, including Su Haoran, the vast majority of Sweeping Monk Disciples practiced the seemingly useless "Meditation Scripture" in their daily lives.

Night fell, and the Servant's Quarters were deathly silent, permeated by a faint mix of sweat and mildew.

Candles were precious things, naturally beyond the reach of servants.

In the darkness, Su Haoran sat cross-legged on the cold wooden bed, his eyes tightly shut as he struggled to adjust his breathing.

His previous meal had consisted of only two dry, hard Coarse Grain Steamed Buns. His stomach was now completely empty, with acidic fluid constantly rising into his throat.

This was the first obstacle Su Haoran faced in cultivating the "Meditation Scripture"—fighting hunger.

Gritting his teeth, Su Haoran sank all his focus into his mind. He visualized the method described in the scripture, attempting to enter the meditative state spoken of by the cultivation method, where "the heart held no external things."

He had been here for three months, and he had cultivated this "Meditation Scripture" for three months as well.

At first, he could not hold on for even One Incense Stick before the emptiness in his stomach and the exhaustion in his body interrupted him. Stray thoughts sprang up in profusion, filling his head with the fragrant pork knuckles, golden fried rice, and sizzling roasted meat from his previous life.

But Su Haoran possessed an unyielding stubbornness deep in his bones. The harder it was, the more determined he became to persist.

After finishing work each day, others would collapse into bed, but he would sit cross-legged in meditation without fail, time and again battling hunger and fatigue.

Tonight, as Su Haoran once more gritted his teeth against the hunger that seemed ready to devour him whole, a soft "buzz" suddenly sounded in his mind, as though some invisible shackle had quietly shattered.

In an instant, the hunger that had tormented him for so long receded like the tide!

The entire world seemed to fall silent at once. The faint snores of his companions, the wind outside the window, the chirping insects... everything became distant and blurred.

His consciousness was clearer and calmer than ever, as though he floated in warm water, entering a wondrous realm where self and world were both forgotten.

"Has... my Meditation Skill broken through?"

A flicker of delight crossed Su Haoran's face, but another thought immediately flashed through his mind. He quickly calmed himself and summoned the panel visible only to him.

Name: Su Haoran

Lifespan: 7 years

Cultivation Methods: Meditation Scripture (Initiation 93%), Arhat Fist (Not Initiated)

Comprehension: 1 (Unremarkable)

This was the panel he had checked every day after cultivation for the past three months.

The progress bar at "Initiation 93%" had been stuck for several days without budging in the slightest.

And now...

Su Haoran focused his gaze and saw that the data on the panel had undergone earth-shaking changes!

Name: Su Haoran

Lifespan: 7 years

Cultivation Methods: Meditation Scripture (Minor Accomplishment 1%), Arhat Fist (Not Mastered)

Comprehension: 3 (Mediocre Talent)

The realm of the "Meditation Scripture" had leaped from Initiation straight into Minor Accomplishment!

Yet what truly stirred his heart was the change in the Comprehension field below!

It had gone directly from "Unremarkable" to "Mediocre Talent"!

"My talent has changed!" Su Haoran's eyes immediately lit up.

"Could Comprehension be increased too?!"

He had always assumed this panel was merely a data recorder. He had never expected its true function to lie here!

As long as he broke through in cultivation methods, he could improve his Comprehension!

Comprehension! This was the most fundamental talent of a Martial Artist!

High Comprehension meant learning any cultivation method with twice the result for half the effort, advancing far faster than ordinary people!

At that thought, Su Haoran's breathing grew rapid. He glanced at the still-conspicuous words Lifespan: 7 years, and a bold speculation surged into his mind.

"Since breakthroughs in cultivation methods can improve Comprehension, does that mean that if I cultivate methods to higher realms—or cultivate stronger methods—even my lifespan can be extended?"

This conjecture was like a bolt of lightning tearing through the darkness, making it even harder for him to contain himself.

"Finally, I won't be limited to living only seven years!"

Su Haoran forcibly suppressed the excitement in his heart, closed his eyes again, and sank back into cultivation.

"Since my Comprehension has broken through, the speed of cultivating the Meditation Scripture will surely rise to another level!"

This time, the feeling was completely different.

His prior cultivation had been like rowing against the current, a bitter struggle against hunger and fatigue.

But now, with the Meditation Scripture at Minor Accomplishment, a mere shift of his thoughts easily shut out every external disturbance. The hunger in his abdomen was suppressed until it was almost imperceptible, and his entire being swiftly entered that lucid, crystalline state of Chan meditation.

Many obscure passages in the scripture now flowed through his mind, bringing with them countless new insights.

He even recalled the boxing techniques practiced by the Martial Monks during the day. Every movement and every stance appeared vividly before his eyes!

"My Comprehension only increased by two points, and together with the aid of the Minor Accomplishment Meditation Scripture, it is already this miraculous!"

After completing one recitation of the scripture, Su Haoran opened his eyes, his heart overflowing with joy.

That night, he did not sleep. He immersed himself in the wondrous sensation brought by Chan meditation until the sky turned the pale white of a fish's belly.

The next day brought another full day of heavy chores.

As the sun set, the evening glow dyed half the sky red.

Su Haoran and the many Sweeping Monk Disciples dragged their utterly exhausted bodies back to the Labor Courtyard.

Yet waiting before them were not the usual two Coarse Grain Steamed Buns to stave off hunger, but a middle-aged monk with a gentle expression and a hint of scrutiny in his eyes.

Su Haoran naturally recognized the man. His name was Cao Yi, a Formal Disciple of Prajna Temple who happened to oversee their group of servants.

"Before today's meal, follow me to the Side Hall. I will assess your progress in cultivating the 'Meditation Scripture.'"

Cao Yi's voice was not loud, yet it reached every person's ears clearly, without the slightest trace of emotion.

The servants immediately let out a chorus of groans, but none dared voice a complaint. They could only weakly answer, "Yes," then follow Cao Yi toward the Side Hall.

After a day of hard labor, their intestines were so hungry they could have tied themselves in knots. Their minds and bodies were at their most exhausted, and being tested on scripture recitation now was simply torture.

The Side Hall was dimly lit.

Following instructions, the servants sat down cross-legged one after another.

"Begin," Cao Yi said flatly, his gaze sweeping across the crowd.

"Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, when practicing deep Prajna Paramita..."

Scattered recitations began, weak and listless, filled with exhaustion.

Most of the Sweeping Monk Disciples hung their heads, their eyelids drooping. Let alone entering a state of Chan meditation, even concentrating enough to recite the scripture smoothly was extremely difficult.

At that moment, every one of them could think only of Coarse Grain Steamed Buns.

The scripture?

Making their lips move and producing a little sound was already due to Cao Yi's intimidating presence.

"Steady your hearts, focus your minds!"

A trace of disappointment appeared in Cao Yi's eyes. Without warning, he let out a loud shout, startling the servants into shuddering as they became slightly more serious.

Yet amid this dispirited scene, Su Haoran sat cross-legged with his back ramrod straight, like a spear planted in the ground.

He was hungry as well, but his eyes were half-closed and his expression tranquil.

His voice was not loud as he recited, yet each word and sentence carried a peculiar rhythm, as if every syllable contained a power capable of soothing the heart.

Not a trace of fatigue showed on him. Instead, he radiated vigor and spirit, forming an incomparably stark contrast with the companions around him, who were dizzy with hunger and swaying every which way.

"Hmm?"

A servant seated near Su Haoran barely forced his eyelids open. Seeing him like this, he froze.

"What's with this guy...? Today he swept hundreds of steps along the Mountain Road and carried more water than I did. How does he not look tired at all?"

"Did he slack off?"

Whispers arose. Quite a few people cast uncertain, suspicious, even somewhat contemptuous looks his way.

In their eyes, the only explanation was that Su Haoran had cut corners during the day's work and saved his strength.

Otherwise, when they all ate so little, could he possibly endure hunger better than everyone else?

Naturally, these faint disturbances could not escape Cao Yi, seated at the head.

At first, he had felt some regret over these Sweeping Monk Disciples' disgraceful attitude. In a Chaotic World, such an attitude would not keep them alive for long. Prajna Temple could not support these servants forever.

But when Cao Yi's gaze fell upon Su Haoran, he was slightly taken aback.

The others did not know, but he had personally watched this group of servants at work.

The tasks assigned to Su Haoran today had been no fewer than those given to anyone else—indeed, they had been more. He could be certain that this boy had not slacked off.

But if he had not slacked off, and had not eaten either, why was his condition so much better than everyone else's?

A trace of surprise flashed through Cao Yi's eyes.