Mechanical Heart

The vast sky was clear as if washed, a pure and thorough azure without a single white cloud.

What a beautiful day... After Meng Qi opened his eyes, this was the lovely scene that greeted him. He was immediately overcome by the feeling of having just awakened from a long dream, finding it hard to leave the softness of his bed.

Before the sigh in his heart could even fully form, Meng Qi felt his body being shaken violently. A hurried, nervous male voice reached his ears: "Second Young Master, are you awake?"

Young Master? Meng Qi turned his head subconsciously and saw a middle-aged man with a face full of anxiety. The man had an extremely striking horse-like face and a long, goat-like beard, but that wasn't the point. The point was the headcloth he wore and his wide-sleeved robes.

What is going on here?

"Second Young Master, are you alright?" The middle-aged man began to pat Meng Qi's body up and down. Terrified that he had encountered some perverted maniac, Meng Qi scrambled to sit up and retreat, but the man's hands were like iron pincers, rendering his struggles useless. He felt a warm current flowing through his body, dispelling all discomfort and leaving him feeling as warm as if he were soaking in a hot spring.

Seeing Meng Qi stand up, the middle-aged man nodded slightly and said, "You should be fine now."

Having made his own judgment, he asked Meng Qi with lingering concern: "Second Young Master, is there anywhere else you feel uncomfortable?"

His concern was evident in every word.

Meng Qi had no idea what his current situation was; his brain felt like a bowl of mush. He replied woodenly, "No."

The horse-faced man's expression relaxed instantly, and he squeezed out a smile that looked worse than a cry: "Second Young Master, the Marquis had no other choice. Being in the temple is better than being at home, anyway. Think about it—sigh, although it is nothing but Green Lamp Ancient Buddha and a life far from the red dust, Shaolin is a great sect of martial arts in the world. Who knows, you might have the opportunity in the future to condense an Arhat Golden Body, suppress the world, and transcend the Sea of Suffering. Besides, you were born with a Buddhist affinity; a nameless old monk even gave you a Jade Buddha Pendant..."

As he spoke, he seemed to realize how slim such a possibility was. Feeling ashamed, his voice gradually lowered. After mumbling a few times, he changed his tune: "Even if the Golden Body is hard to achieve, the Shaolin Seventy-Two Unique Skills are each miraculous. If you could learn a few, wouldn't it be wonderful to roam the world and settle scores with a free heart in the future..."

As he continued, his voice grew lower and lower, like a mosquito's buzz. In the end, he simply raised his left hand to cover his face, turned, and walked away, leaving behind only a long, smoky sigh.

Watching the horse-faced man's back disappear into the dense forest on the hillside within a few strides, Meng Qi, who had been left completely bewildered by the man's rambling, only wanted to ask one thing:

"Uncle, who are you?"

This is simply inexplicable!

Meng Qi had already realized that he was no longer in a familiar place, but in an exceptionally bizarre environment.

A place similar to the ancient times of our country!

I only stayed up late to watch the World Cup, did I deserve this? Did I transmigrate just by waking up from a nap?

Meng Qi did not suspect that this was someone's prank, nor did he think he was on a period drama set. When the horse-faced uncle had covered his face and left just now, although his steps were messy and hurried as if he had Evil Ghosts Claiming Lives behind him, his speed was like a startled horse—something no ordinary person could achieve!

"He's clearly a martial arts expert!" Meng Qi "judged" based on his experience with novels and television.

"Namo Amitabha, follow me into the temple." Just as Meng Qi's thoughts began to race, a low Buddhist chant suddenly sounded from behind him, scaring him so much he almost screamed.

When did someone get behind me?

I didn't feel a thing!

After turning his head so sharply he nearly strained his neck, Meng Qi saw a monk dressed in yellowish-brown robes. He was extremely tall but as thin as a bamboo pole. His features were unremarkable, save for a pair of eyes filled with an inescapable sense of despondency. This made his age difficult to judge; he could have been forty or fifty, or perhaps just in his early thirties.

Seeing that Meng Qi had noticed him, the yellow-robed monk said nothing more. He gestured with his eyes and turned to walk toward the main gate of the temple.

Yellow walls, black tiles, and dark red gates—the front of this temple was no different from the temples Meng Qi had visited before, only much larger and wider.

What shocked Meng Qi was that above the gate, a gilded horizontal plaque bore three large characters written in a style similar to regular script:

"Shaolin Temple"!

It really is "Shaolin Temple"!

The characters here are slightly different but mostly the same as ancient regular script!

Having just arrived in a strange and bizarre place, Meng Qi dared not ask questions. Suppressing his surprise and confusion, he stepped forward to follow closely behind the yellow-robed monk.

Only then did Meng Qi notice that his hands and feet were small. After a careful look, he thought, not knowing whether to be happy or worried: "A different kind of 'rejuvenation'..."

Judging by the size of his palms, their fairness, and the jade pendant at his waist, this body was likely under fourteen years old and accustomed to a life of luxury.

"I wonder what this body looks like. Only good-looking people have a youth worth having..."

"In Shaolin Temple, with nothing but Green Lamp Ancient Buddha, what need is there for youth!"

"I don't know if I can refuse to enter the temple, but with this small frame, I wouldn't survive outside Shaolin. This is a world with martial arts, and who knows if there are demons and ghosts... Sigh, many ancient records mention that the great noble families had a custom of keeping young boys..."

"According to the horse-faced uncle, even if this Shaolin isn't that Shaolin, it is still a great sect of martial arts, and it also possesses the Seventy-Two Unique Skills. I wonder if there is a Muscle Tendon Change..."

"I used to fantasize about becoming a Great Hero, settling scores with a free heart. Now I have a chance, but why am I still not happy? My computer, my phone, the internet, and... my family..."

"Learning some martial arts seems okay, eh, what is an Arhat Golden Body?"

Meng Qi followed the yellow-robed monk, appearing calm as he passed by gray-robed and yellow-robed monks, but no one knew that his mind was a chaotic mess of thoughts that wouldn't stop.

No matter how erratic his thoughts were, Meng Qi eventually had to face reality. Given the age of this body and the fact that he had been abandoned, his only option was to settle down and learn martial arts in Shaolin Temple for a while.

"I wonder if I can return to secular life after learning the arts? I can give up alcohol, but I can't give up meat!" Meng Qi felt he was truly "farsighted," planning a hundred steps ahead, already thinking about what he would do after his training.

Along the way, the yellow-robed monk did not pass through the halls where Buddha statues were enshrined, but instead bypassed them. After crossing several courtyards, he pushed open the door to a hall for the first time.

The door creaked open. Meng Qi peered inside and saw dozens of children under the age of fifteen, the youngest likely only eight or nine. They were sitting cross-legged on cushions, their gazes focused on a monk with a broad face and large ears at the front. This monk was also dressed in yellow robes, his expression stern, holding a ruler in his hand.

"Namo Amitabha, Junior Brother Xuanzang, what brings you here?" The broad-faced, large-eared monk had a resonant voice.

Tsk, he could definitely sing opera. The more nervous Meng Qi became, the more he couldn't help but let his mind wander. At the same time, he learned that the bamboo-pole monk who brought him into the temple was named Xuanzang.

After a soft Buddhist chant, Xuanzang said: "Junior Brother Xuanku, this is the child I mentioned earlier."

He was open and honest, with no intention of keeping anything private. The only flaw was that his voice was dry and unpleasant, a stark contrast to Xuanku's.

Xuanku glanced at Meng Qi and said without a smile: "Come in, one by one."

Meng Qi looked at him, not quite understanding, while Xuanzang beside him pointed to an empty prayer mat: "Wait to be questioned."

"Yes." Having worked for several years, Meng Qi could at least grasp this much of the situation, so he nimbly followed the other children and sat cross-legged on the mat.

Xuanku did not look at Meng Qi again; holding a ruler, he asked a certain child: "What is your secular name? Why did you enter our Shaolin?"

The child was in his early teens, with red lips and white teeth, looking quite handsome, though his expression was a bit dull: "My name is Fang Aqi. Because I couldn't get enough to eat, I was sold to the monks."

Pfft—several children burst into laughter. They were among the older group, and Fang Aqi's answer was practically insulting the monks to their faces! It seemed there was something wrong with his head.

Xuanku frowned, his face darkening slightly: "Do not use your secular name again. Your dharma name is 'Zhenhui'. Enter the Servant Courtyard."

A faint intake of breath came from the older, more sensible children. Their expressions told Meng Qi that the Servant Courtyard did not seem like a good place to be.

"Fang Aqi is Zhenhui, Zhenhui is Fang Aqi..." Fang Aqi, now "Zhenhui," muttered to himself.

Xuanku shifted his gaze to a relatively older child: "What is your secular name? Why did you enter our Shaolin?"

This child must have been thirteen or fourteen. His expression was slightly nervous, but he still answered fluently: "Reporting to Master, this disciple is named Liu Zhi. Because my family admires the Dharma and reveres the martial way, I was sent to Shaolin."

They were children who had been selected, and their innate foundations were all quite good.

Xuanku nodded slightly: "That is honest enough. If you had only said you admired the Dharma, I would have sent you to the Servant Courtyard. From today on, your dharma name is 'Zhende'. Enter the Warrior Monk Institute."

"Thank you, Martial Uncle Xuanku," Zhende said, pressing his palms together.

According to what he knew, once one had a dharma name, based on the sequence "Xin Kong Wu Xuan Zhen, Qing Jing Zhi Hui Shen," he could address Xuanku as Martial Uncle directly before having an official master.

Xuanku did not acknowledge his cleverness, skipping over him to start questioning other children.

Zhende's inner heart tightened. It seemed Martial Uncle Xuanku was just as the rumors said: extremely upright and not to be swayed by flattery.

Regarding Xuanku's questioning, Meng Qi had initially held a relaxed, spectator-like mindset to gather information, but suddenly, his expression solidified.

What is my name?

What is this body called?

Meng Qi racked his brains and scratched his head, but he could not recall the name of this body at all. He hadn't inherited even a shred of memory!

It's impossible to just say Meng Qi; Xuanzang is still watching!

He must know the origin and name of this body!

I have to find a way to bluff my way through this!

In front of the seemingly strict and serious Xuanku, Meng Qi dared not speak too much, dared not secretly probe Xuanzang, and dared not feign amnesia. He could only silently ponder other methods to avoid exposing the fact that he had transmigrated—there seemed to be real Arhats here!

"What is your secular name? Why did you enter our Shaolin?" Before Meng Qi could come up with a good idea, Xuanku had already stood before him, ruler in hand.

Meng Qi opened his mouth, and suddenly, a thought flashed through his mind. He blurted out: "Having entered Shaolin, the secular name is already forgotten."

After answering, Meng Qi secretly applauded himself. How witty and perfectly in line with the true meaning of the Dharma!

Xuanku looked at Meng Qi carefully, the ruler in his hand swaying slightly. He did not press for the answer to the second question, instead stating sternly:

"Too much calculating intent. Enter the Servant Courtyard. Your dharma name is 'Zhending'."