Stone Chamber

Under the Glazed Pagoda, Xin Ji's smile was serene and peaceful. Gazing at Du'er Cha, who appeared like a heavenly demon, he spoke calmly: "Benefactor, your injuries are not light."

"So what? Killing you is more than enough!" Du'er Cha said coldly, then lunged forward, his fists wrapped in hurricanes, lightning flashing across the sky, ferocious and overbearing beyond compare!

Xin Ji's smile grew even more indifferent, his voice ethereal and tranquil: "All conditioned phenomena are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, shadows, like dew and like lightning—thus should they be contemplated."

The sound was not loud, echoing all around. Xin Ji raised his right hand, making a gesture like plucking a flower.

Behind him, the Glazed Pagoda shimmered radiantly, beams of Buddha light scattering, wisps of Zen chants drifting faintly: "All conditioned phenomena are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, shadows, like dew and like lightning—thus should they be contemplated."

The Buddha light scattered like specks, as if countless arhats, vajra warriors, bodhisattvas, and buddhas together intoned a solemn yet ethereal Zen chant.

Du'er Cha's gaze sharpened, and for the first time, shock appeared on his face: "You can actually perform 'Self-Sacrifice'?"

"This old monk has merely gained some insight in recent years." Xin Ji's figure gradually faded, dissolving bit by bit into the Buddha light, vanishing between heaven and earth.

"Damn it!" Du'er Cha's black robe billowed, gales of wind sweeping in, making him seem like a humanoid storm, with threads of electric light swirling around him.

Xin Ji's physical body completely disintegrated, leaving only a faint silhouette where he stood. His right hand, still in the plucking gesture, brushed out gently, his smile pure and open, untouched by any dust.

The sky full of buddhas and bodhisattvas vanished, all the Buddha light converging into that single finger. The surroundings became peaceful and tranquil, only the Zen chant still echoing: "All conditioned phenomena are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, shadows, like dew and like lightning—thus should they be contemplated."

Creak, creak, creak. Meng Qi and Qi Zhengyan entered the secret passage. After fumbling along the inner wall for a while, they finally found the mechanism to close it.

"Now Du'er Cha shouldn't be able to find us..." Meng Qi used idle words to cover the storm raging in his heart.

Qi Zhengyan pulled a flint and a tinder from his bosom, dispelling the darkness and illuminating the area nearby.

This was a corridor wide enough for two people. The stone overhead was uneven, the left and right walls rough and undulating, covered in moss.

"It doesn't look purely man-made. It should be a natural passage that was modified," Qi Zhengyan said after a careful inspection. He quickened his pace and, at a wider, gentler spot ahead, set Zhang Yuanshan down.

Meng Qi suppressed his inner turmoil, imitated Qi Zhengyan, chose a smooth patch of ground, and set Jiang Zhiwei down. Then he said solemnly: "Senior Brother Qi, I'll go ahead to scout the path, so we don't end up unaware of any enemies hiding inside."

Since even an ordinary young monk could come and go from the back mountain, Meng Qi believed that only the Sarira Pagoda was here, with no demons or monsters. So he steeled his nerves, intending to explore this secret passage. Since the terrain of the Shaolin Temple in both worlds was so similar, the end of this passage might reveal the secrets of his own Shaolin's hidden tunnels—perhaps he would gain considerable benefits from it.

Moreover, as someone who "understood" the "infinite flow" genre, after learning about "mission evaluation" at the end of the last cycle, Meng Qi had been speculating about this aspect. Exploring hidden secrets might be an important criterion for mission evaluation.

Qi Zhengyan glanced at Meng Qi expressionlessly, took another tinder from his bosom, lit it, and handed it over: "Junior Brother Zhending, I'll trouble you. I need to stay here and watch over Senior Brother Zhang and the others, to keep poisonous insects and snakes from disturbing them."

Huh? Meng Qi had prepared a whole bellyful of arguments to keep Qi Zhengyan from following him on the exploration—after all, who knew what was in there? If he got greedy, things would get troublesome. But to his surprise, Qi Zhengyan was so perceptive that he volunteered to stay and guard before Meng Qi had even said a word!

"Then I'll leave it to you, Senior Brother Qi." Meng Qi didn't dwell on it. Lighting the tinder, he headed deeper into the passage, keeping one eye on possible enemies lurking in the darkness ahead and the other on any potential ambush from behind.

By the time Meng Qi's figure disappeared around the corner and his footsteps grew distant, Zhang Yuanshan suddenly opened his eyes and said weakly but steadily: "Junior Brother Qi, I didn't expect you to choose to stay directly."

"I'm suffering from backlash, my strength has greatly diminished, and I'm no match for Junior Brother Zhending," Qi Zhengyan replied, leaning against the wall and sitting cross-legged, his tone flat. "If I rashly followed and we encountered a secret or treasure meant for only one person to know, would you have Junior Brother Zhending kill me, or not? Everyone has greed. I won't risk 'testing' Junior Brother Zhending's Buddhist heart, so I simply stayed behind."

Zhang Yuanshan nodded slightly, then suddenly smiled: "You really do talk more after being severely injured."

Qi Zhengyan's face instantly darkened. He turned his head to look aside.

Zhang Yuanshan chuckled, closed his eyes again, and continued healing. Jiang Zhiwei remained completely focused, as if utterly unaware of the outside world.

Along the passage, Meng Qi advanced for a while, feeling that he had already gone deep into the back mountain.

The firelight flickered, its dim yellow hue staining the path with a dull, oppressive gloom, giving Meng Qi an indescribable pressure—as if the tinder might go out at any moment, plunging the world back into darkness, with demons and monsters surging from the blackness to devour him alive.

After another stretch, Meng Qi stopped in confusion, for it seemed he had reached the end of the passage. The mountain wall curved into a semicircle, enclosing what appeared to be an open stone chamber.

There, a rotting meditation cushion sat, along with a stone bed and a stone table.

"Could this be the hermitage of some great master?" Meng Qi speculated inwardly. He scanned the surroundings warily once more, then stepped forward.

As he drew near, the firelight cast onto the mountain wall, and Meng Qi vaguely saw several lines of text.

"Huh, it's Sanskrit." As a "top student" of the Sutra Lecture Hall, Meng Qi was no stranger to Sanskrit. He squinted, straining to decipher it.

"If one does not enter the mundane world, does not traverse the sea of suffering, does not break the precepts, how can one know the true meaning of the rules, how can one see through the illusions of the world, illuminate one's own Buddha nature, and realize the true emptiness and wondrous existence?"

Meng Qi's Sanskrit proficiency was not deep. He struggled to piece the words together, and couldn't guarantee there were no errors or omissions, but he grasped the general meaning.

"This saying is quite profound..." Meng Qi muttered to himself. He lowered the torch, shining it on the signature.

"A... nan... Ananda?" Meng Qi's jaw dropped in astonishment. Wasn't this the venerable attendant before the Buddha?

Wait—wasn't there a Buddhist scripture story about him breaking his precepts and leaving?

The Sanskrit characters of "Ananda" were bold and flowing, as if carved with a knife and chisel, carrying a hint of sharpness yet also a faint, tranquil Zen intent. Meng Qi's gaze was drawn in. He reached out his right hand, trying to touch it.

The moment his palm made contact, Meng Qi suddenly felt a bone-piercing chill. A blade of light burst before his eyes—like a true dragon entering the sea, like a fierce tiger returning to the mountain. All obstacles, under that single slash, were severed.

The blade light was dazzling. Meng Qi couldn't react at all. He could only watch helplessly as the light descended upon him, evolving into countless variations, transforming into the myriad illusions of the mortal world.

The suffering of birth, the suffering of old age, the suffering of sickness, the suffering of death—the blade light evolved infinite mysteries, finally converging into one slash, breaking through the shackles all around!

Within the light, Meng Qi vaguely saw a monk—neither old nor young, neither beautiful nor ugly—only able to faintly sense his face full of bitterness and heavy resolve.

The firelight dimmed. The Sanskrit on the mountain wall turned to dust, rustling down.

Only then did Meng Qi snap back to reality, slightly dazed as he looked at the scene before him. What had just happened? The meaning of that blade light's transformation, the sorrow of the mundane world, seemed to be deeply etched into his mind.

Dust settled, forming words:

"Obtained the true intent inheritance of the 'Ananda Breaking Precepts Saber Art.' Comprehended the remnant form of the first saber, 'Severing Purity.'"

Meng Qi's mouth took a long while to close. He finally understood what he had encountered. According to what Jiang Zhiwei had said earlier, divine arts and techniques at the Dharmakaya level and some peak Outer Scenery level did not rely on written words but on true intent inheritance. However, the objects that carried such true intent could sometimes only bear it once, while others could pass it down for years. How much one comprehended from the true intent—whether much, little, or nothing at all—depended on the individual. And once one fully mastered these divine arts and techniques, they themselves could leave behind a true intent inheritance.

Thus, Jiang Zhiwei had only grasped the surface of "Sword Comes Without Self," and if the content she comprehended were turned into a secret manual, it would be worth at most eight or nine hundred Merit Points, less than a tenth of the original.

"I remember that the temple's 'Ananda Breaking Precepts Saber Art' isn't a true intent inheritance..." Meng Qi thought in confusion. Because the Vajra Temple specialized in saber arts, Xuan Xin had specifically mentioned that Shaolin possessed a saber art that could rival theirs—the "Ananda Breaking Precepts Saber Art." It was at the peak Outer Scenery level, and when perfected, it could touch the Laws of heaven and earth. He had also mentioned that a previous generation eminent monk had borrowed the secret manual, mastered this saber art, and become a great master of the saber path.

Therefore, Meng Qi knew that this saber art was a secret manual inheritance within the Shaolin Temple.

Knowing little about the temple's internal lore, Meng Qi had no direction for speculation. Moreover, he couldn't afford to dwell on it. He quickly closed his eyes, focused his mind, and recalled what he had just gained, turning over and over the changes within the remnant form of "Severing Purity."

After all, the exchange price for the "Ananda Breaking Precepts Saber Art" was nine thousand Merit Points—three thousand for the general outline and twelve hundred for each of the five forms. Forgetting it would be a huge loss!

And having obtained the true intent inheritance, he had essentially received the general outline, just one that required slow pondering and gradual comprehension. Moreover, compared to the general outline, the true intent inheritance allowed him to directly comprehend the five saber forms.

Of course, this demanded extremely high comprehension. For example, Meng Qi, having just received the inheritance directly, had only comprehended the remnant form of the first saber.

"Why is it a remnant form..." Meng Qi opened his eyes, slightly disappointed. A remnant form meant it couldn't be practiced yet.

Although truly unleashing the power of the "Ananda Breaking Precepts Saber Art" required stepping into Outer Scenery and triggering changes in the Outer World, if he could grasp even its surface now, it would serve as a trump card. Even if it lacked the overwhelming force of Jiang Zhiwei's "Sword Comes Without Self," it would surely earn praise for its subtlety and terror.

Taking a light breath, Meng Qi set this matter aside for now and continued searching the stone chamber for anything else.

After walking half a circle around the chamber, Meng Qi spotted something that looked like a stone door under the firelight.

Only faint traces of it remained on the stone wall, and around it were carved characters in a script he recognized.

"Righteousness, Kindness, Benevolence—do not enter this door."

Meng Qi read the words aloud and, out of habit, gently pressed his right hand against the stone door, intending only to feel it, with no thought of pushing it open.

The moment his hand touched it, an indescribable chill and terror invaded Meng Qi's mind. Mutilated corpses, rotting limbs, evil ghosts, and heavenly demons appeared one after another before his eyes.

Then, a blaze of fire ignited amidst the black mist that filled the sky, burning everything away and pointing straight at Meng Qi.

His face turning pale, Meng Qi retreated hastily, pulling away from the stone door. The sights before him slowly faded.

After catching his breath for a moment, Meng Qi found that a dense layer of cold sweat had broken out on his back. His entire body felt weak and sore, as if he had been severely injured.

"How eerie..." Meng Qi regulated his breathing to recover, no longer daring to touch the stone door.

At this moment, he noticed a deep, bottomless small hole beneath the stone door, as if an indescribable flame was burning within it. Beside it were a few tiny characters.

"Those who are fickle and unfaithful in love—kill!"

What is all this... Meng Qi thought helplessly.

At the edge of the forest, Du'er Cha stood still, gazing at the remaining traces.

His left shoulder and left hand had completely vanished, and his entire body trembled uncontrollably, yet he still stood straight.

--Heartache, begging for recommendations~