Tyrant of the Martial Arts Hall (Seeking Clicks and Recommendations)

With the rhythm of long, slow breaths, Meng Qi's internal energy flowed from his dantian, passed through the three gates, opened the life gate, entered the mud ball, and finally converged at the shanzhong, falling like snowflakes, a hundred rivers returning to the sea.

After several cycles like this, Meng Qi gradually grasped the essential techniques of the "Shaolin Heart Method," so he sank his breath and opened his eyes.

At this moment, Xuan Chi, who had just taught the heart method, was nowhere to be seen. From outside the quiet room came the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

Meng Qi's heart moved. He stood up, ready to walk out of the quiet room and enter the Martial Arts Hall.

It wasn't that he didn't value internal cultivation, but aside from being assigned patrol or guard duties, the only place he could currently touch a saber and practice saber techniques was the Martial Arts Hall. As for circulating his energy and strengthening his internal force, he could wait until the hall closed and return to his Zen room.

"Little Junior Brother, heading out together?" Meng Qi saw Zhenhui also open his eyes, so he asked casually.

Zhenhui's face was flushed, his eyes dazed, as if he had just woken up. Asked by Meng Qi, he said somewhat sheepishly, "Senior Brother, that warm little mouse is really fun. I want to practice the heart method a bit longer."

"Mm, you're at the stage of building your foundation. Strive to open your dantian as soon as possible." Meng Qi smiled, pushed open the quiet room door, and returned to the hall.

On the left side of the Martial Arts Hall stood a weapon rack, mainly filled with long staffs and sabers, with a few longswords mixed in. Four yellow-robed attendant monks stood at each side to prevent accidental injuries during sparring.

Meng Qi scanned the area, saw Zhen Yong sparring with someone in Arhat Fist at a heated point, so he didn't go over to greet him. Instead, he walked straight to the weapon rack, picked an unsharpened saber, weighed it in his hand, assumed a stance, and began practicing the "Five Tigers Severing Gate Saber Technique" from start to finish, slowly and clumsily, following the manual Qi Xia had given him.

An attendant monk nearby squinted as he watched Meng Qi practice, his gaze sharp as lightning. After watching for a while and seeing that Meng Qi was practicing the most basic, most ordinary saber technique, he shook his head, turned away, and continued watching the other monks spar.

Meng Qi moved through each stance, gradually forgetting everything around him, immersing himself in his own world of saber techniques. He swung the saber like the wind, free and easy, constantly comparing his movements to the manual and correcting his mistakes.

After an unknown amount of time, a thin layer of sweat formed on Meng Qi's forehead. He withdrew the saber and stood still, savoring the gains from his practice.

"Phew, if I can practice the saber with this level of effect every day, I'll master this technique in about a month." Meng Qi exhaled, secretly pleased, then assumed his stance again and swung the saber.

This time, Meng Qi's "Five Tigers Severing Gate Saber Technique" appeared quite messy, because his focus 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, who had a decent memory, had roughly memorized the steps of "Eight Steps of Divine Travel." With his internal energy, lifting and leaping wasn't difficult. However, far from mastering it, he felt he was still far from even entering the gate. It was as if something was blocking him, hazy and indistinct, impossible to pierce through. For now, he could only remember the complex steps, with no practical use at all.

"It seems I need to combine it with actual combat to find the trick to this footwork." After practicing all evening, Meng Qi was mentally and physically exhausted. He reinserted the saber into the weapon rack and walked toward Zhen Yong.

"Phew, Junior Brother Zhending, have you mastered the 'Shaolin Heart Method'?" Zhen Yong was half-bent, hands on his knees, breathing heavily. The previous sparring sessions had drained his stamina.

Meng Qi smiled. "Senior Brother Zhen Yong, have you forgotten that I've already opened my dantian?"

"Right, what was I thinking!" Zhen Yong patted his bald head and slowly straightened up. "Heading back to the Zen room now?"

The Warrior Monk Institute's Zen rooms were shared by two people. Meng Qi and Zhenhui lived next door to Zhen Yong.

Meng Qi nodded and was about to say he'd go fetch Zhenhui when he suddenly saw a burly, sturdy monk viciously crash into another monk.

With a slap, the thinner monk stumbled back several steps, staring at his opponent in shock and anger. But before he could speak, the tall, aggressive monk snarled, "You crashed into me? You want to spar? Fine, let's go!"

The thinner monk's face turned pale, his expression showing clear fear. Yet he didn't refuse. He assumed a stance and clashed with the tall, fierce monk.

The outcome was no surprise. The thinner monk's defense was broken in two or three punches, and he was beaten black and blue. Staggering, he limped toward the hall's entrance.

The bully-like monk waved his fists triumphantly, showing off to his companions.

Meng Qi watched, dumbfounded. It took him a while to snap out of it. He turned to Zhen Yong and said, "That's allowed?"

With eight attendant monks watching, he dared to commit malicious provocation and beat up a fellow disciple! And the beaten monk didn't even call for help! Where were the Shaolin Precepts?

Though where there are people, there are cliques, bullying, and being bullied, Meng Qi had thought Shaolin, with its enlightened monks, was a pure Buddhist land. Even if dirty deeds were inevitable, they wouldn't be so blatant.

Zhen Yong lowered his voice. "His monastic name is Zhen Liang. He entered the temple three years ago and recently reached Minor Qi Accumulation. He loves to use the hall's rules to bully the weak."

"Rules?" Meng Qi asked, puzzled.

Zhen Yong chuckled. "It's a rule of our Warrior Monk Institute: anyone in the Martial Arts Hall cannot refuse a sparring request from any other monk. After all, if you're walking the martial world and someone tries to kill you, you can't say 'I don't want to fight you,' right? It's meant to get us used to forced combat. But the institute also distinguishes: monks close to Major Qi Accumulation aren't allowed here; they have their own training hall."

"Zhen Liang exploits this. He picks monks he has grudges with to spar. As for crashing into people, that's considered a reasonable provocation in the hall, to help monks get used to similar situations and control their emotions."

Meng Qi nodded, understanding the reasoning. "But the attendant uncles and senior brothers should be able to tell whether a spar is malicious or friendly, right?"

"I heard Zhen Liang has an older brother in the Discipline Institute..." Zhen Yong said quietly. "So as long as he doesn't break the precepts, the attendant uncles and senior brothers turn a blind eye. Heh, Zhen Liang is pretty much the bully of the Martial Arts Hall."

Meng Qi thought of the monks struggling in the Servant Courtyard and snorted. "Someone like that gets into the Warrior Monk Institute? I thought Martial Uncle Xuanku was a truly upright man!"

"I heard Martial Uncle Xuanku only handled the first few batches. Later batches were picked by other attendant uncles. Anyway, when the uncles and masters come to choose direct disciples later, they'll consider daily conduct." Zhen Yong didn't seem to hold a grudge against Xuanku.

Meng Qi reflected on his own hasty judgment, then narrowed his eyes at Zhen Liang, who was laughing loudly with others.

"Heh, what I need most is actual combat sparring. I've been looking for a suitable opponent!" Suddenly, he strode over.

The death pressure of the Reincarnation World left him no room for hesitation. And if he got expelled from Shaolin for this, it would fulfill his wish.

Seeing Meng Qi walk toward Zhen Liang, Zhen Yong didn't immediately understand what was happening. He just watched his back with slight confusion.

"Hmph, refusing to clean my courtyard." Zhen Liang stared at the hall entrance.

A nearby monk chuckled. "He doesn't know your strength, Senior Brother Zhen Liang. Who in the entire Martial Arts Hall can beat you?"

"Haha, they think I'm easy to deal with because I'm usually friendly?" Zhen Liang laughed loudly.

At that moment, Meng Qi reached him, bumped his shoulder, and knocked him aside with a slap.

Zhen Liang stumbled back several steps, staring at Meng Qi in disbelief. He was always the one crashing into others to provoke them. Today, someone actually dared to crash into him?

Meng Qi smiled faintly, switching hands to crack his knuckles, and looked at Zhen Liang. "You crashed into me? You want to spar? Fine, let's go!"

Huh?

The reversed situation stunned Zhen Liang. His companions stared at Meng Qi in disbelief. Where did this little monk come from? Handsome-looking, but brainless?

Wasn't this too bold?

Zhen Yong's expression shifted, and he was about to step forward to stop it, but then he suddenly remembered that even the teaching monk Zhen Miao had lost to Zhending that afternoon, so he slowed his pace and watched the two with a smile.

"Bastard! Damn it!" Zhen Liang came to his senses, fury surging. He was the one who bullied others—how could anyone dare to provoke him? He also imitated Meng Qi, cracking the knuckles of both hands, producing a series of popping sounds, and said with a vicious grin, "Fine, let's spar! If I don't make you beg for mercy crying, I'll call you Junior Brother!"

The surrounding Attendant Monks' expressions remained unchanged, as if no conflict was happening at all.

As soon as the words left his mouth, Zhen Liang charged at Meng Qi, his strikes heavy and forceful.

Half an incense stick later, smack smack smack, Meng Qi landed a few punches on Zhen Liang, who was lying on the ground. Amid the dazed, dreamlike expressions of the surrounding martial monks, he stood up, leisurely patted his monk's robe, and said, "Thanks for the bout. Ah, Junior Brother, you still need to train your martial arts more."

In the exchange just now, Meng Qi had first been familiarizing himself with the "Eight Steps of Divine Travel" and the "Arhat Fist," struggling at first, which made Zhen Liang wildly excited, as if he could already see Meng Qi wailing under his beating. But as Meng Qi gradually grew accustomed, eager to pause and digest his gains, he launched a fierce offensive. With the help of his Iron Cloth Shirt and the momentum of having fought for his life, he quickly knocked Zhen Liang to the ground and gave him a thorough beating.

"Junior... Brother..." Zhen Liang ground his teeth in a low growl, utterly unable to believe he had lost. Just a few breaths ago, he had been firmly in control—how had this Little Monk suddenly turned into a ferocious beast? His own punches landing on him were like scratching an itch!

Meng Qi's gaze dropped, looking down at Zhen Liang. "Eh, Junior Brother still doesn't seem convinced? Want to keep going?"

Faced with this guy who was even more of a bully than himself, Zhen Liang had no choice but to clench his teeth, stay silent, and slowly get up.

Having mastered the Arhat Fist and vaguely grasped some essence of the "Eight Steps of Divine Travel," Meng Qi was in high spirits. He looked around, clearly itching to find someone else to spar with.

In a whoosh, the surrounding martial monks scattered like birds and beasts.

"Really no sense of face..." Meng Qi shook his head and looked again at the bruised and swollen Zhen Liang.

Zhen Liang inexplicably shuddered, and without a second thought, turned and ran.

"Junior Brother Zhending, your Iron Body Skill is truly remarkable." Zhen Yong stepped up to offer a flattering remark, just as Zhenhui emerged from the Quiet Room.

So Meng Qi reined in his fighting spirit and walked back with them to the Zen Room to practice the "Shaolin Heart Method."

The next day, it was still carrying water, learning characters, and training. As the session neared its end, Zhen Miao stood in front of Meng Qi with his hands behind his back. "Junior Brother Zhending, are you ready?"

"I am." Meng Qi answered in a low voice and stepped out of the formation. Facing a stronger opponent both put pressure on him and made him feel excited.