With each long, steady breath, Meng Qi's inner force rose from his Dantian, passed through the three gates, crossed the Life Gate, entered the Niwan, and finally gathered at the chest, flowing down like snowmelt as a hundred rivers converged with the sea.
After several circuits, Meng Qi gradually mastered the secrets of circulating the Shaolin Heart Method. He drew his qi downward and opened his eyes.
The Xuan Chi who had taught him the Heart Method was nowhere to be seen. Outside the quiet room came the sound of fists striking flesh.
Meng Qi's heart stirred. He rose and headed out of the quiet room toward the Martial Arts Hall.
It wasn't that he neglected the cultivation of his inner power. But unless he was assigned to patrol or stand guard, the Martial Arts Hall was the only place he could currently get his hands on a Monastic Blade and practice saber techniques. As for circulating his qi and strengthening his inner power, he could easily do that after the hall closed and he returned to the Zen Room.
"Little Junior Brother, want to head out together?" Meng Qi saw that Zhenhui had opened his eyes too, so he asked casually.
Zhenhui's cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were hazy, as if he had just woken up. At Meng Qi's question, he said sheepishly, "Senior Brother, that warm little mouse is fun. I want to practice the Heart Method a bit longer."
"Mm. You're at the very stage when you need to build a foundation. Try to open your Dantian as soon as you can." Meng Qi smiled, pushed open the quiet room door, and returned to the hall.
Weapons racks stood in one corner of the Martial Arts Hall's left side, mostly filled with long staffs and Monastic Blades, with a few long swords and other weapons mixed in. Two yellow-robed Attendant Monks stood on each side, guarding against injuries during the monks' sparring matches.
Meng Qi looked around. Zhen Yong was in the thick of practicing Arhat Fist against someone, so Meng Qi didn't go over to greet him. He walked straight to the weapons rack, picked up a blunt Monastic Blade, weighed it in his hand, and assumed a stance. Following the Five Tigers Severing Gate Saber Technique Qi Xia had given him, he practiced from beginning to end, slowly and clumsily.
An Attendant Monk nearby saw Meng Qi practicing with a saber and narrowed his eyes instinctively, his gaze sharp as lightning. After watching for a while, he realized Meng Qi was practicing the most basic, ordinary saber technique. He shook his head, turned away, and resumed watching the other monks spar.
Meng Qi moved through each technique, gradually forgetting everything around him and sinking into his own world of saberplay. His blade swept like the wind, free and unrestrained, as he kept comparing his movements with the manual and correcting his mistakes.
After an unknown length of time, a thin sheen of sweat appeared on Meng Qi's forehead. He lowered the saber and savored what he had gained.
"Whew. If I make this much progress every day, I should have this saber technique down in about a month." Meng Qi exhaled, secretly pleased, then assumed his stance again and began swinging the Monastic Blade.
This time, Meng Qi's Five Tigers Severing Gate Saber Technique was rather chaotic, because his attention had shifted to his footwork. The saber technique was merely a cover for practicing Eight Steps of Divine Travel, so the Attendant Monks wouldn't notice.
Half an hour later, Meng Qi, whose memory was quite good, had more or less memorized the footwork of Eight Steps of Divine Travel. With inner force in his body, circulating his qi and bounding around was not difficult. But he was nowhere near mastering it—or even reaching the entry level. It felt as if something stood between him and the technique, a hazy barrier he could never quite break through. For now, he could only remember the complicated steps; they were of no use to him at all.
"Looks like I need to combine it with actual combat to figure out the trick to this footwork." After practicing all evening, Meng Qi was mentally and physically exhausted. He returned the Monastic Blade to the weapons rack and headed over to Zhen Yong.
"Whew, Junior Brother Zhending, you've mastered the Shaolin Heart Method?" Zhen Yong was bent halfway over, both hands braced on his knees as he panted heavily. The several sparring matches he'd fought earlier had taken a lot out of him.
Meng Qi smiled. "Senior Brother Zhen Yong, did you forget I opened my Dantian long ago?"
"Right, look at my brain!" Zhen Yong slapped his shaved head and slowly straightened up. "Heading back to the Zen Room now?"
The Warrior Monk Institute's Zen Rooms housed two people each. Meng Qi and Zhenhui lived right next door to Zhen Yong.
Meng Qi nodded, about to say he would go call Zhenhui, when he suddenly saw a stocky, muscular monk viciously slam into another monk up ahead.
Smack! The thinner warrior monk staggered back several steps. Shocked and angry, he stared at his opponent, but before he could speak, the tall, burly monk who had rammed him snarled, "You dared to bump into me? Want to spar with me, then? Fine, let's go!"
The thinner warrior monk turned pale, obvious fear showing on his face. Yet he didn't refuse. He took up a stance and fought the tall, fierce monk.
The result was no surprise. The stocky monk broke through the warrior monk's defenses in just two or three punches and beat him black and blue. Staggering, the victim headed toward the Martial Arts Hall's entrance.
The bully of a monk swung his fists triumphantly, showing off to those around him.
Meng Qi stared in astonishment. It took him a long moment to recover before he asked Zhen Yong, "He can get away with that?"
Eight Attendant Monks were watching nearby, yet the man dared to deliberately provoke and beat up a fellow monk! And the warrior monk who'd been beaten hadn't even called for help! What had happened to the Shaolin Precepts?
It was true that wherever people gathered, there would be rivalries, with some bullying and others being bullied. But Meng Qi had thought Shaolin, with its eminent monks who had attained enlightenment, was at least a pure and peaceful Buddhist sanctuary. Even if there were dirty dealings, surely they wouldn't be so brazen.
Zhen Yong lowered his voice. "His dharma name is Zhen Liang. He entered the monastery three years ago and has just reached Minor Qi Accumulation. He loves using the rules in the Martial Arts Hall to bully the weak."
"The rules?" Meng Qi asked, puzzled.
Zhen Yong chuckled. "They're rules for our Warrior Monk Institute. Anyone in the Martial Arts Hall can't refuse a sparring request from any warrior monk present. After all, if you're walking the jianghu and someone comes to kill you, you can't exactly say, 'I don't want to fight you,' can you? It's supposed to help us get used to being forced into battle. The institute does make distinctions, though. Warrior monks close to Major Qi Accumulation aren't allowed in here. They have their own sparring hall."
"Zhen Liang takes advantage of this. He picks fights with warrior monks he has a grudge against. As for ramming into someone, that's considered a legitimate provocation in the Martial Arts Hall, to help warrior monks get used to such situations and keep their emotions in check."
Meng Qi nodded, understanding the reason. "But the Attendant Monks should be able to tell whether a spar is malicious or friendly, shouldn't they?"
"I heard Zhen Liang has an older brother in the Discipline Institute..." Zhen Yong whispered. "So as long as he doesn't break the precepts, the Attendant Monks turn a blind eye. Heh, Zhen Liang's practically the bully of the Martial Arts Hall."
Meng Qi thought of the monks struggling desperately in the Servant Courtyard and gave a short, bitter laugh. "People like that can get into the Warrior Monk Institute? I thought Martial Uncle Xuanku was a truly upright man!"
"Apparently Martial Uncle Xuanku was only in charge of the first few batches. Other Attendant Monks selected the rest. Ah, anyway, when the martial uncles and senior uncles choose their direct disciples later, they'll take their conduct into account." Zhen Yong held no prejudice against Xuanku.
Meng Qi reconsidered his hasty judgment, then narrowed his eyes as he looked at Zhen Liang laughing loudly with the others.
"Heh, what I need most is actual sparring. I was just worrying I wouldn't find a suitable opponent!" Suddenly, he strode over.
The pressure of death in the Reincarnation World left him little room to worry about the consequences. Besides, if this got him expelled from Shaolin, it would be just what he wanted.
Seeing Meng Qi walk toward Zhen Liang, Zhen Yong didn't understand what was going on. He could only watch Meng Qi's back in mild bewilderment.
"Hmph, and he wouldn't even help me sweep the courtyard." Zhen Liang looked toward the hall's entrance.
A monk beside him chuckled. "He doesn't know how powerful you are, Senior Brother Zhen Liang. Who in the whole Martial Arts Hall can beat you?"
"Haha! They see how kind I am usually and think I'm easy to push around?" Zhen Liang burst out laughing.
Just then, Meng Qi came up beside him, rolled his shoulder, and slammed into him with a smack.
Zhen Liang stumbled back several steps and stared at Meng Qi in disbelief. He was always the one who bumped into others to provoke them. Had someone really dared to bump into him today?
Meng Qi switched his hands back and forth, cracked his knuckles, and gave Zhen Liang a half-smile. "You dared to bump into me? Want to spar with me, then? Fine, let's go!"
Huh?
The reversal left Zhen Liang stunned. The companions beside him stared at Meng Qi in disbelief too. Where had this little monk come from? He looked so pretty and delicate—how could he be so stupid?
Wasn't he being far too bold?
Zhen Yong's expression changed, and he was about to step in and stop them. But then he suddenly remembered that even the teaching monk Zhen Miao had lost to Zhending that afternoon, so he slowed down and watched the two with a smile.
"Damn it! You bastard!" Zhen Liang came to his senses, his anger bursting forth. He was the one who bullied others; who did this guy think he was, provoking him?
He copied Meng Qi, switching hands to crack his knuckles until they popped, then said menacingly, "Fine, let's have a go! If I don't make you cry and beg for mercy, you can call me Junior Brother!"
The Attendant Monks nearby didn't so much as blink, as if no conflict had taken place.
As soon as he finished speaking, Zhen Liang charged Meng Qi, throwing a heavy, forceful punch.
Half an incense stick later, smack, smack, smack! Meng Qi punched Zhen Liang a few times as he lay on the ground. Amid the warrior monks' terrified, bewildered expressions, as if they were dreaming, he stood and leisurely dusted off his monk's robe. "You were a worthy opponent. Ah, Junior Brother, you need to practice your martial arts more."
At first, Meng Qi had been using the fight to familiarize himself with Eight Steps of Divine Travel and Arhat Fist. He had struggled quite a bit, which had Zhen Liang terribly excited; he seemed to already see Meng Qi howling as he beat him black and blue. But as Meng Qi gradually grew more familiar with the techniques, he grew impatient to stop and think over what he had learned, and launched a fierce attack. With Iron Cloth Shirt and the momentum he had gained from fighting for his life, he quickly knocked Zhen Liang to the ground and gave him a sound beating.
"Ju... Junior Brother..." Zhen Liang growled through gritted teeth, unable to believe he had lost. Just a few breaths ago, he had clearly had the upper hand. How had this little monk turned into a ferocious beast in an instant? His fists landed on Meng Qi like he was merely scratching an itch!
Meng Qi lowered his gaze to Zhen Liang. "Huh? Junior Brother, you still don't accept it? Shall we keep going?"
Faced with someone who seemed even more like a bully than he was, Zhen Liang could only grit his teeth and say nothing as he slowly climbed to his feet.
Now that he'd grown familiar with Arhat Fist and vaguely grasped a little of the essence of Eight Steps of Divine Travel, Meng Qi was in high spirits. He glanced around, looking eager to find someone else to spar with.
In a flash, the warrior monks around them scattered like birds and beasts.
"You don't have to be so unfriendly..." Meng Qi shook his head and looked again at Zhen Liang's swollen, bruised face.
Zhen Liang inexplicably shivered. Without a second thought, he turned and ran.
"Junior Brother Zhending, your Iron Body Skill is truly impressive." Zhen Yong came over to compliment him. Zhenhui had just emerged from the quiet room as well.
So Meng Qi reined in his fighting spirit and returned to the Zen Room with them to practice the Shaolin Heart Method.
The next day, he went back to fetching water, learning to read, and practicing martial arts. As the session drew to a close, Zhen Miao stood before Meng Qi with his hands behind his back. "Junior Brother Zhending, are you ready?"
"I'm ready." Meng Qi answered in a low voice and stepped out of line. Facing a strong opponent put him under pressure, but it also thrilled him.
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