The Scripture Repository of Prajna Temple stood in the deepest part of the temple grounds, an ancient wooden tower rising nine stories high.
Having weathered a thousand years of wind and rain, the tower had taken on a deep blackish-brown hue. Its upturned eaves and bracket sets brimmed with antique charm.
This was the heart of Prajna Temple. Though its defenses appeared lax, with only an old monk sweeping fallen leaves at the entrance, Su Haoran's senses were sharp enough to clearly detect several powerful yet concealed auras lurking within the old tower's shadows and the surrounding woods.
Loose on the outside, tight within—the security was airtight.
Su Haoran's heart could not help but burn with excitement.
Martial arts manuals!
These were the true foundation of a Martial Artist!
As he walked, his mind raced through the possibilities.
What martial art should he choose?
Arhat Fist may be fierce and forceful, but it is ultimately only a basic fist technique. It is enough against ordinary Martial Monks, but against a true expert, its power may prove insufficient. Should I replace it with a stronger offensive martial art?
Iron Cloth Shirt has already reached Major Accomplishment, and its defensive power is astonishing. Choosing another hard-body technique might conflict with the circulation of my Qi and Blood. The cost-effectiveness is too low. I can set that aside for now.
Meditation Scripture is an excellent method for strengthening the foundation, nurturing vitality, and tempering the mind. It is immensely helpful for controlling myself and improving my comprehension. There is no need to replace it either.
Thought after thought flashed through his mind, only to be rejected one by one.
Until the scene from yesterday atop the plum blossom stakes surfaced in his mind.
Movement technique!
Su Haoran's gaze abruptly sharpened.
During the assessment, I crossed the plum blossom stakes through the extraordinary bodily control and on-the-spot calculations brought by my fifteen points of comprehension. I took the most stable, most precise route. In truth, I had not used the slightest bit of movement technique.
His thoughts were crystal clear. The Martial Monks present may not have seen through it and only thought I was fast and steady. But an expert like Elder Hui Jue would surely see through my true measure at a glance.
A movement technique was a Martial Artist's weakness in battle—and also his trump card for survival!
No matter how hard one's fists were, it was futile if they could not hit anyone. No matter how strong one's defense was, if one faced an opponent one could not defeat and could not escape, there was only a dead end.
I'll choose a movement technique! Su Haoran made up his mind. In battle, I can use it to maneuver and entangle my opponents, seizing the initiative. And when I truly reach the end of the road, I can rely on it to escape alive!
With a clear goal in mind, he no longer hesitated and climbed the steps toward the Scripture Repository.
The old monk sweeping at the entrance did not even raise his eyelids. He merely said flatly, "Token."
Su Haoran respectfully handed it over.
The old monk took it, glanced at it, and casually tossed it back. "First floor. Go choose for yourself, and come out within one hour. Do not damage anything. Do not copy anything."
"Yes."
Su Haoran pushed open the heavy wooden doors, and a distinct scent of books and aged timber washed over him.
The first floor of the Scripture Repository was vast. Rows upon rows of bookshelves, each several zhang tall, stood silently like giants.
They were filled with every kind of martial arts manual, dazzling in their variety.
He did not linger in the sections for fierce fist arts or domineering saber techniques. Instead, he went straight to the movement technique section in the farthest corner.
The manuals on the shelves came in all varieties.
"Golden Goose Skill"—taking its meaning from a golden goose crossing the sky, light and swift.
"Swallow Three Drops of Water"—focusing on explosive short-distance bursts, moving like a startled hare.
"Cloud Nine Skill"—said to have been created by Patriarch Bodhidharma, emphasizing borrowing force and redirecting force, making one as light as a swallow.
Every manual represented a different path. For a moment, Su Haoran was dazzled and found it difficult to make a decision.
He picked them up one by one, reading their general principles and sensing the martial intent within.
Some were too light and agile, incompatible with his fierce and forceful path. Others focused too heavily on explosive bursts and lacked endurance.
Just as he hesitated, his attention was drawn to a thin, dust-covered booklet on the lowest shelf.
Su Haoran's heart stirred. He reached out and took down the "Soaring Dragon Startling Swan Art."
The booklet was exceedingly light in his hand. The ink mark on its cover had faded somewhat, showing that no one had read it for a long time.
He opened its general principles. After reading only a few lines, his eyes lit up.
This art did not pursue ultimate speed, nor did it emphasize bizarre footwork. Instead, it focused on a single word: momentum.
Like a dragon swimming through an abyss, its movements could split rocks and shake the heavens; like a wild goose soaring high, its stillness left no trace to be found.
What it sought was perfect control over one's own strength and speed—a realm where movement and stillness followed the heart, where one could release and withdraw at will.
This was simply a match made in heaven with the extraordinary bodily control brought by his fifteen points of comprehension!
This is the one.
Su Haoran did not hesitate any longer. After registering the thin booklet with the old monk who swept the grounds, he returned to his firewood room.
He did not immediately begin cultivating it. Instead, he circulated the Meditation Scripture through several cycles, adjusting his mind to its optimal state—still as an ancient well, without a ripple—before opening the main text of the Soaring Dragon Startling Swan Art.
The next day, the dining hall of Prajna Temple's kitchen was exceptionally lively.
Unlike the Labor Courtyard's mess hall, which forever carried the smell of coarse grain husks, the Martial Monk Courtyard's kitchen was filled with the rich aroma of meat and the sweet fragrance of white rice.
Su Haoran carried a wooden tray holding a bowl of gleaming white rice, a plate of glistening braised pork, and a bowl of medicinal soup that nourished Qi and Blood.
This was the treatment afforded to Martial Monks.
Martial cultivation consumed enormous amounts of energy. Without sufficient oily food and nutritional supplements, the body simply could not hold up.
He found a corner, sat down, and ate quietly.
The braised pork was fatty without being greasy, melting in his mouth. A stream of warmth slid down his throat into his stomach, swiftly transforming into pure Qi and Blood energy that nourished his limbs and bones.
This feeling was worlds apart from the days when he had gnawed dry, hard coarse-grain cakes just to fill his stomach.
At that moment, a figure timidly approached his table.
The newcomer was a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old sweeping monk, clad in a faded gray robe washed nearly white. He was exactly as Su Haoran had been not long ago.
"Ha... Haoran, Senior Brother." The sweeping monk pressed his palms together, bowing so deeply that his waist nearly formed a right angle. His voice was full of awe.
Su Haoran set down his chopsticks and looked at him calmly. "What is it?"
"It... it is a senior brother from the Martial Monk Courtyard who ordered me to deliver a message." The sweeping monk did not dare raise his head as he said softly, "The hall has assigned Senior Brother a new duty. After your meal, please report to the Scripture Repository."
"The Scripture Repository?" Su Haoran was slightly taken aback.
"Yes. They said Elder Hui Jue personally gave the order, assigning Senior Brother to guard the Scripture Repository."
"I understand." Su Haoran nodded.
The sweeping monk looked as though he had been granted amnesty. After bowing once more, he carefully backed away with his body still bent.
Su Haoran continued eating, but his mind was already calculating at high speed.
Guarding the Scripture Repository?
That was no ordinary assignment.
The Scripture Repository was an important site of the temple. Everyone assigned there was an expert trusted by the temple.
Elder Hui Jue's move was both a show of esteem and, most likely, carried a measure of surveillance.
Still, for him, it was indeed tremendous news.
The Scripture Repository is quiet and undisturbed, and I can remain stationed there year-round without having to run about everywhere. It is perfect for cultivating in peace and training the newly acquired Soaring Dragon Startling Swan Art to Major Accomplishment!
He finished his meal in a few quick bites, returned his bowls and chopsticks, and headed straight for the Scripture Repository.
It was still that same old monk sweeping the grounds. When he saw Su Haoran, he did not raise his eyelids. He merely took a pitch-black wooden token from his sleeve and tossed it over.
"Your token. From today onward, you are a Guardian Martial Monk of the Scripture Repository. During the day, stand guard outside the tower and do not allow anyone to trespass. At night, go cultivate on your own. You need not remain here."
Su Haoran caught the token. It was icy cold to the touch, and the character "Guard" was written upon it in cinnabar.
"Yes, this disciple obeys."
And so, Su Haoran began his duty guarding the Scripture Repository.
Just as he had expected, the days were as tranquil as a pool of stagnant water.
Apart from the occasional elder or specially authorized disciple who came to consult the texts, no one approached it during ordinary days.
Su Haoran gladly embraced the leisure. Every day, he stood before the tower's entrance like a statue, appearing to carry out his duties faithfully, while in truth his mind had long since sunk inward. He silently circulated the Meditation Scripture and contemplated the methods of the Soaring Dragon Startling Swan Art.
His body underwent wondrous changes at a speed visible to the naked eye.
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