A Cunning Mind

The vast blue sky was clear as a wash, deep and pristine, without a single white cloud.

What beautiful weather... When Meng Qi opened his eyes, this lovely scene greeted him. For a moment, he felt as if he had just awakened from a long dream and could hardly bear to leave his soft bed.

The thought had barely crossed his mind when he felt his body being shaken violently. A tense, urgent male voice sounded by his ear. "Second Young Master, you're awake?"

Young Master? Meng Qi instinctively turned his head and saw a middle-aged man with a deeply worried expression. He had an extremely striking horse face and a long beard like five wisps of goat's hair, but none of that was the point. The point was that he wore a headcloth and a loose robe with wide sleeves.

What was going on?

"Second Young Master, are you all right?" The middle-aged man began patting Meng Qi up and down, frightening him into thinking he'd run into a lecherous pervert. He hurriedly rolled over and sat up, shrinking back, but the other man's hands were like a pair of iron pincers, making his struggles utterly useless. He also felt a warm current flow through his body, dispelling every discomfort. He was left feeling warm and cozy, as if soaking in a hot spring.

Seeing Meng Qi get to his feet, the middle-aged man nodded lightly. "You should be fine now."

After making this judgment on his own, he still asked Meng Qi, not quite reassured, "Second Young Master, is anything else bothering you?"

His concern was plain for all to see.

Meng Qi had no idea what was happening. His brain seemed to have turned to mush, and he answered woodenly, "No."

The horse-faced man's expression relaxed at once. Then he forced out a smile more painful than a cry. "Second Young Master, the Marquis had no choice. You're better off in the temple than at home. Think about it—ah, although you'll be far from the mortal world, with only a green lamp and an ancient Buddha for company, Shaolin is the greatest school of martial arts under heaven. Who knows, perhaps one day you'll have the chance to condense an Arhat Golden Body, command the world, and transcend the Sea of Suffering. And you were born with a connection to the Buddha, with a Jade Buddha Pendant given to you by a Nameless Old Monk..."

As he spoke, he seemed to realize how remote such a possibility was and grew ashamed. His voice gradually sank. After his lips moved a few times, he changed tack. "Even if attaining the Golden Body is beyond reach, each of the Shaolin Seventy-Two Unique Skills is wondrous in its own way. If you can learn a few, you'll roam the martial world and settle old scores to your heart's content. Wouldn't that be wonderful..."

As he went on, his voice grew fainter and fainter, like a mosquito's buzz. At last, he simply raised his left hand to cover his face, turned, and left, leaving behind a long sigh that faded like smoke.

Watching the horse-faced man's back disappear into the woods on the hillside after just a few steps, Meng Qi—dazed by his rambling—could only think to ask one thing:

"Uncle, who are you?"

This was simply incomprehensible!

Meng Qi had already realized he wasn't somewhere familiar, but in an exceptionally strange place.

A place much like ancient China!

I'd only stayed up late to watch the World Cup. Was it really necessary to do this to me? I'd fallen asleep and woken up in another world?

Meng Qi didn't suspect this was some prank, nor did he think he was on a historical drama set. When the horse-faced uncle had covered his face and left, his steps had been hurried and unsteady, as if Evil Ghosts were Claiming His Life. Yet he had moved as fast as a startled horse—far beyond the ability of an ordinary person!

"Clearly a martial arts expert!" Meng Qi "concluded," drawing on what he'd seen in novels and on television.

"Namo Amitabha Buddha. Come with me into the temple." Just as Meng Qi's thoughts were beginning to run wild, a low Buddhist invocation sounded behind him, nearly making him yelp in fright.

When had someone come up behind me?

I didn't sense him at all!

After turning his head so sharply he nearly twisted his neck, Meng Qi saw a monk in a yellow-brown robe. The man was very tall, yet thin as a bamboo pole. His features were unremarkable, except for a pair of eyes weighed down by an unshakable despondency. It was hard to judge his age: he could have been in his forties or just over thirty.

When the yellow-robed monk saw that Meng Qi had noticed him, he said nothing more. He gestured with his eyes, turned, and walked toward the temple's main gate.

Yellow walls, black tiles, a dark-red gate. The front of this temple looked no different from the temples Meng Qi had visited before, only much larger and wider.

What left Meng Qi stunned was the gilded plaque above the gate, bearing three characters that resembled regular script:

"Shaolin Temple"!

It really was Shaolin Temple!

The writing here was remarkably similar to ancient regular script!

Newly arrived in this strange, unfamiliar place, Meng Qi didn't dare ask questions. He swallowed his surprise and confusion and hurried after the yellow-robed monk.

Only then did Meng Qi realize that his arms and legs were short. After looking himself over, he wondered whether he should be glad or worried. "A different kind of 'returning to youth'..."

Judging from the size and pale complexion of his hands, as well as the Jade Pendant at his waist, this body was probably under fourteen and had been raised in comfort.

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

"In Shaolin Temple, with only a green lamp and an ancient Buddha for company, who needs a youth!"

"I wonder if I can refuse to join the temple. But with this little body of mine, I couldn't survive outside Shaolin. This is a world with martial arts. I wonder if demons and ghosts exist here too... Ah, in plenty of ancient records, those powerful households were all in the habit of keeping pretty boys..."

"According to the horse-faced uncle, even if this Shaolin isn't the same Shaolin I know, it's still a great martial arts school with the Seventy-Two Ultimate Techniques. I wonder if it has the Yi Jin Jing..."

"I used to fantasize about becoming a great hero, roaming the world and settling old scores. Now I might actually get the chance, so why am I still unhappy? Computers, phones, the internet, and my family..."

"Learning some martial arts doesn't sound bad. Uh, what's an Arhat Golden Body?"

Meng Qi seemed calm as he followed the yellow-robed monk, passing monk after monk in gray and yellow robes. But no one knew that his mind was full of tangled, chaotic thoughts that simply wouldn't stop.

However far his thoughts wandered, in the end Meng Qi could only face reality. Given this body's age and the fact that someone had abandoned him, his only choice was to settle down and study martial arts at Shaolin Temple for a while.

"I wonder if I can return to lay life after mastering the arts? I can give up alcohol, but I can't give up meat!" Meng Qi thought he was being truly "far-sighted," planning a hundred steps ahead as he already considered what to do after he finished his training.

Along the way, the yellow-robed monk never passed through the main halls that enshrined Buddha statues. Instead, he went around them, passing several courtyards before opening the door to a main hall for the first time.

The door creaked open. Meng Qi peered inside and saw several dozen children under fifteen, the youngest perhaps only eight or nine. They sat cross-legged on meditation cushions, their eyes fixed on a broad-faced, large-eared monk seated at the front. He too wore yellow robes, and his expression was stern as he held a ruler in his hand.

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

Tsk, he could have been a professional singer. The more nervous Meng Qi got, the more his mind wandered. At the same time, he learned that the bamboo-pole monk who had brought him here was called Xuanzang.

Xuanzang chanted a Buddhist invocation in a low voice, then said, "Junior Brother Xuanku, this is the child I mentioned before."

He spoke openly and without the slightest hint of a private arrangement. The only flaw was that his voice was dry and unpleasant, nowhere near as rich as Xuanku's.

Xuanku glanced at Meng Qi and said without a smile, "Wait your turn."

Meng Qi looked at him, unsure what he meant. Xuanzang beside him pointed to an empty meditation cushion. "Wait to be questioned."

"Yes." Meng Qi had worked for several years, after all. He could understand a situation like this. He quickly learned from the other children and sat cross-legged on the cushion.

Xuanku didn't look at Meng Qi again. Holding the ruler, he questioned one of the children. "What was your lay name? Why did you join Shaolin?"

The child looked a little over ten, with red lips, white teeth, and a handsome face, but his expression was somewhat dull. "My name is Fang Aqi. I was sold to the monks because I couldn't get enough to eat."

Pfft. Several children burst out laughing. They were among the older ones. Fang Aqi's answer was practically calling the monks bald donkeys to their faces! It seemed he wasn't quite right in the head.

Xuanku frowned, his face darkening slightly. "Don't use your lay name from now on. Your Buddhist name is Zhihui. You'll join the Servant Courtyard."

A few older, more sensible children drew in quiet breaths. Their expressions told Meng Qi that the Servant Courtyard was probably not a good place.

"Fang Aqi is Zhihui, and Zhihui is Fang Aqi..." Fang Aqi, now Zhihui, murmured.

Xuanku shifted his gaze to a somewhat older child. "What was your lay name? Why did you join Shaolin?"

This child looked thirteen or fourteen. He seemed a little nervous, but still answered smoothly. "Master, my surname is Liu, and my given name is Zhi. My family admires Buddhist teachings and reveres the martial way, so they sent me to Shaolin."

These children had been selected, and all had decent Root Bones.

Xuanku nodded slightly. "At least you're honest. If you'd only said you admired Buddhist teachings, I'd have sent you to the Servant Courtyard. From today on, your Buddhist name is Zhende. You'll join the Warrior Monk Institute."

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

From what he knew, once they received Buddhist names, following the sequence "Xin Kong Wu Xuan Zhen, Qing Jing Zhi Hui Shen," they could address Xuanku as Martial Uncle even before they had an official master.

Xuanku didn't nod in approval of his cleverness. He simply moved on and began questioning the other children.

Zhende's heart tightened. It seemed Martial Uncle Xuanku was just as upright as the rumors said. Flattery wouldn't sway him.

At first, Meng Qi had watched Xuanku's questions with a relaxed interest, hoping to pick up useful information. Then, all of a sudden, his expression froze.

"What's my name?"

"What was this body called?"

Meng Qi racked his brains and scratched his head, but still couldn't remember this body's name. He hadn't inherited a single memory!

"I can't just say Meng Qi, can I? Xuanzang is still watching!"

"He definitely knows where this body came from and what its name is!"

"I need to think of a way to bluff my way through!"

Facing Xuanku, who seemed so strict and solemn, Meng Qi didn't dare say much. He didn't dare quietly coax Xuanzang into telling him, and he didn't dare pretend he had amnesia. He could only silently come up with another plan so he wouldn't expose the fact that he'd crossed into another world. It seemed there might really be Arhats here!

"What was your lay name? Why did you join Shaolin?" Before Meng Qi could think of a good answer, Xuanku was already standing in front of him, ruler in hand.

Meng Qi opened his mouth. Suddenly, inspiration struck, and he blurted out, "Now that I've entered Shaolin, I've forgotten my lay name."

After answering, Meng Qi silently applauded himself. That was so clever—and perfectly in keeping with Buddhist teachings!

Xuanku studied Meng Qi closely. He gently swung the ruler in his hand twice, didn't press him for an answer to the second question, and simply said sternly:

"Too cunning. You'll join the Servant Courtyard. Your Buddhist name is Zhending."