The Supreme Secret Art

A scholar's guiding principle was to see beauty without losing his composure, and treasure without letting his heart grow restless. "Thus have I heard? This scripture was recorded by someone who personally heard the Buddha preach?" Hong Yi asked in puzzlement. Buddhist scriptures that began with "Thus have I heard" had all been left behind by people who had truly heard the Buddha preach in ancient times. To keep one's heart steady before treasure did not mean looking down on it. Rather, it was a warning not to let the thrill of obtaining treasure go to one's head, but to stay calm; otherwise, one would reveal all kinds of weaknesses, alert those with designs on it, and invite disaster. "Past Amitabha Sutra? One of the Great Zen Temple's three legendary temple-guarding scriptures, famed for its mystery and supreme soul-cultivation arts? Even Ziyue, one of the Eight Great Demon Immortals of the World, traveled thousands of miles to search for it, and it was actually hidden inside this court-printed Martial Classic?" Clutching the Amitabha Sutra, Hong Yi took several deep breaths and steadied himself. How could he not be cautious—especially when reading a legendary scripture like the Amitabha Sutra? He had drawn it from the place where he kept it against his skin; its silk-smooth texture felt wonderfully soft in his hands. Once he had calmed himself, Hong Yi rose and washed his hands, then closed his eyes and sat quietly until the incense had burned down. His whole being was utterly composed. He suddenly opened his eyes and swept his gaze around, listening carefully. Only after making sure no one was nearby did he cautiously take the scripture from his robe and unfold it for a close examination. Looking at the Buddha image, Hong Yi was stunned. He had read widely and knew how to appreciate calligraphy and painting; he also understood some of the Buddhist doctrines. By all logic, a manual for cultivation would not contain these four words, because the Buddha did not pass down methods of cultivation. He only told people to understand their own minds and see their true nature. It was somewhat like the ancient sages teaching scholars to cultivate righteous qi: they gave only a general direction, while the particulars—how to understand one's true nature or cultivate righteous qi—had to be discovered for oneself. Everyone reached their own understanding and achievements. From this alone, Hong Yi, who excelled at reading and discerning an author's intent, could draw a conclusion. A true Buddha image was neither imposing nor enormous. Rather, when people looked at it, they felt as if the Buddha had been themselves in a previous life, awakening the Buddha-nature and the heart of the Dao within them. The writing also held a force that seemed to sink into one's very bones; after looking at it, one could almost feel the tiny characters stirring and rising into the air. The characters seemed alive. The scripture was soft as silk, yet fire could not burn it. Anyone who understood the truth, like Hong Yi, would know it was a treasure—and even a fool could tell. After putting it away securely, confident that he had left no trace, Hong Yi sat upright, lit a stick of incense, and gently ground his ink. Then he wrote the character "stillness" on the paper. The Amitabha Sutra was a supreme art of soul cultivation; the Tathagata Sutra taught the martial path to Human Immortality; the Wusheng Sutra was the most mysterious of all. It was said that if the three scrolls were combined and their meaning fully understood, one could transcend the sea of worldly suffering and truly reach the other shore. Whether Buddha or the ancient sages, they had only pointed out a clear path and direction. As for how to walk it, perhaps even those sages themselves did not know; later generations would have to discover the way bit by bit. "What beautiful calligraphy!" The text opened with four words: "Thus have I heard..." "This is a true image of the Buddha. That expression, that bearing—it resonates with people, conveying the sense that they too can become Buddhas." After writing more than ten characters for "stillness," his thoughts finally settled completely. The Great Zen Temple was an ancient monastery with a history of a thousand years. Its incense had burned without pause, and its masters had been as numerous as clouds. Before its destruction, every sect under heaven had been forced to acknowledge it as the greatest temple in the world, a holy ground where cultivation reached its highest heights. In martial arts as well as the immortal path of soul cultivation, the Great Zen Temple had spent centuries absorbing the essence of various schools and refining it. At the center of the scripture was a golden Buddha seated in the void, surrounded by countless suns, moons, and stars, all pouring their radiance upon him. That meant the three scrolls truly contained supreme secret arts. Hong Yi realized that he had nearly lost his composure just moments ago. He looked at the scripture roll in his hands, thin as a cicada's wing, square, dark gold, and soft as water to the touch. The bright golden characters filled him with indescribable shock. This book was far superior to the crude, flaw-ridden Martial Classic and Daoist Classic. The difference between them was too great even to be described as the difference between pearls and filth. Once Hong Yi had steadied himself, he deftly folded the silk-like scripture into a handkerchief-sized square and tucked it against his skin. He did not hurry to read it. The golden Buddha's eyes were half-closed. He sat cross-legged with his hands forming a mudra, his expression peaceful. Unlike the imposing Buddha images in other temples, this one radiated a familiar, intimate air. Even Li Yan, founder of the Li School, who looked down on gods and Buddhas more than any other scholar and was always explaining them through the principles of scholarship, had lamented in his notes that he had never seen these three scrolls with his own eyes. The Great Zen Temple's highest cultivation secrets were recorded in the three scrolls of Past, Present, and Future. The Past was the Amitabha Sutra, the Present was the Tathagata Sutra, and the Future was the Wusheng Sutra. "Perhaps, as the Great Zen Temple was on the verge of destruction, the monks feared the scripture would be seized, so they hid it inside the most ordinary Martial Classic. That makes sense—the court printed the Martial Classic itself, so no one would think to steal it. What a pity. The thing Ziyue was searching for had been right here all along..." The scripture lay spread across the table, square and three feet wide, like a large painting. Its writing was tiny, in the finest regular script, yet perfectly clear, as if carved with a knife, without a single blurred stroke. Seeing the characters, Hong Yi couldn't help exclaiming inwardly. He had been confident in his own handwriting, but compared to the writing in this scripture, it was utterly amateurish. Even if the Amitabha Sutra was not a supreme orthodox scripture, at first glance, it was already a supreme work of painting. "Forget everything else—just the calligraphy and painting alone would be priceless." Hong Yi sighed, then began reading the scripture's text. "Although the Amitabha Sutra is reputed to contain the highest secrets of soul cultivation, the Great Zen Temple had so many monks, including no shortage of peerless talents, yet it seems not one of them achieved Yang God. Otherwise, the temple could never have been wiped out so completely by the army. It seems this scripture isn't easy to practice or comprehend. I only know a little about the soul leaving the body; I'm afraid I can't make sense of it yet. If only Ziyue were here. We could study it together, but unfortunately..." Buddhist doctrine held that all living beings were equal and that everyone could become a Buddha. Unfortunately, someone capable of painting such a Buddha image appeared only once in five hundred years. In painting alone, that person was a sage among artists. Those four words were what distinguished an Outer Dao text from an orthodox scripture. Orthodox scholars all followed this set of rules. Before reading, they quieted their minds, burned incense, washed their hands, and completed a series of preparations. These were not pointless rituals but ways to regulate body and mind, allowing them to focus completely. Only then could they read well. Hong Yi even had the feeling—no, the certainty—that this Buddha was the source of his own countless past lives. "Never mind. Perhaps the author only wanted to make the scripture look more formal. I should see what the cultivation methods actually say." Hong Yi did not dwell on the matter, and continued reading...