The Abbot

White Pagoda Temple, the abbot's meditation room.

Master Guanghui had just finished reciting the Diamond Sutra. Sitting cross-legged on his cushion, he was about to enter the meditative state known as the Realm of Neither Perception nor Non-Perception when someone suddenly pushed open the door.

"Zhong Cheng, you're back. Have you settled that person?" A moment later, Guanghui emerged from meditation and asked at once.

"He's been settled in a layman's home," Monk Zhongcheng replied, palms together. "I must thank you, Abbot, for making an exception."

"Making things convenient for others is making things convenient for oneself," Guanghui said. "Those of us who have left the household life receive offerings from the ten directions. We should therefore cultivate good ties far and wide."

"Thank you for your instruction, Abbot." Monk Zhongcheng bowed. "If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave."

"Zhong Cheng." Master Guanghui called him back. "There's no need to speak of your martial talent. You're so young, yet already have a chance of reaching the seventh rank. That talent is among the finest in all the Buddhist schools of the Central Plains."

"But for us monks, the Dharma must come first if we are to find our place in the world. Don't become attached to martial arts, lest you be blinded by the martial obstacle and make no further progress."

Hearing this, Monk Zhongcheng couldn't help composing himself. "Since you put it that way, Abbot, I have a question."

"Ask!"

"I've been staying at this temple for half a year. During that time, I've spent much time with you and learned a great deal. I know you're deeply learned and profound in the Dharma, not a foolish monk who blindly believes. Since you understand the circumstances behind the precept against handling money, why insist on keeping it?"

"Precepts are like a boat. Once you've crossed to the other shore, you shouldn't cling to whether the boat is big or small!"

"Excellent! To speak such words is to have attained samadhi!" Master Guanghui said with palms together. "I keep this precept precisely because I am not attached to it."

Seeing Zhong Cheng's confusion, Guanghui continued to explain. "Do I not understand that times change and the world moves on? Yet when we seek to change things in this world, we must return to antiquity. When we seek to advance, we must first step back."

"Seafaring ships now cross the oceans and link the world, and I've read some histories brought from Europa. Do you know the difference between the new and old churches in Europa?"

"I've heard a little about them," Monk Zhongcheng replied.

"The so-called new church in Europa sought to change the old church's rules. But it didn't accuse the old church of being too conservative. It claimed the old church wasn't conservative or ancient enough, and so it needed to overthrow it and restore the ancient faith to its original form. The new church's doctrines were, in fact, even more ancient and extreme than the old church's. Yet what it did was abolish the old church's rules and establish an entirely new order."

Monk Zhongcheng suddenly understood. "Isn't that just like the Confucian scholars' notion of using the ancient past to justify reform? To establish a new order, they first loudly proclaim the words of the Duke of Zhou and Confucius."

"Exactly!" Guanghui said, nodding as Zhong Cheng grasped the idea. "It's the same for us Buddhists. If you want to establish a new order, you need people like me, who loudly proclaim a return to antiquity, to hold the stage. That way, you won't be accused of destroying Buddhism and abandoning the Way."

"Only by upholding the ancient path and establishing a firm foundation, by raising the banner of Buddhism, can we break through and rebuild in this age of great change—and win Buddhism a chance at a future."

"I'm old. This is all I can do. You're still young, so you must understand: martial arts and precepts alike are boats to ferry you across the river, not the wisdom of the other shore." Guanghui's words grew ever more earnest.

"Thank you for your instruction, Abbot." Zhong Cheng bowed deeply, feeling he had gained much.

Chen Wu felt he had gained much, too—though he was even more shocked.

At the very beginning of the manual was a preface. It was written entirely in plain language, yet it left Chen Wu utterly astonished.

"Everyone says that the only Grandmaster in the past several centuries, Emperor Taizong, broke through to the Grandmaster Realm before the Battle of Jingzhou. Clad in armor and wielding a weapon amid the battle, he personally slew Lekedehun and turned the tide."

"But if you ask me, that's all bullshit. Emperor Taizong entered the Grandmaster Realm only after killing Lekedehun—not the other way around."

Beside these words were a few small notes, clearly written by Old Jin: "Preposterous. I've never heard this theory."

Chen Wu also found it strange.

The Battle of Jingzhou was the battle that turned Great Shun's fortunes around. It was also the most brilliant battle in the life of Li Guo, who was suspected of being a time traveler. The Great Shun court had therefore tirelessly promoted it, mythologizing Li Guo and calling him the only true Taizong since Li Shimin.

Chen Wu had only been here a few days, but he already knew the story inside out.

Historians agreed that before the Battle of Jingzhou, Great Shun had suffered defeat after defeat while the Manchu Qing won battle after battle. At the time, there had been a vast gap in fighting strength between the Shun and Qing armies.

Even though Li Guo had seemingly cheated by predicting both the Southern Ming allies' blunders and Lekedehun's route of attack, and had laid an ambush, the battle had still been perilous. They had nearly failed.

At the critical moment, Li Guo had used the power of a Grandmaster to pierce through three layers of iron armor, leading his personal guards in a raid on Lekedehun's command banner. He had slain Lekedehun in battle and won by the narrowest of margins.

That was nothing like what the manual said.

As he read on, however, Chen Wu couldn't help nodding again and again.

"The nine realms of martial arts are divided into three stages. The first three—Bronze Skin, Iron Tendon, and Jade Bone—refine the body. The middle three—Channel Opening, Subtlety, and Zhoutian—refine qi. The final three—Concentrated Spirit, Mystic Realm, and Grandmaster—refine the spirit. They correspond precisely to the three treasures of man: essence, qi, and spirit."

This made a lot of sense. Old Jin had added a note beside it: "That's the correct principle."

"Yet one cannot reach the Grandmaster Realm through diligent cultivation of essence, qi, and spirit alone. That is why, over the past several centuries, Emperor Taizong has been the only Grandmaster. Not knowing the key, people blindly cultivate essence, qi, and spirit. What is that if not climbing a tree to catch a fish?"

"I stumbled upon a secret account of Taizong and learned that Emperor Taizong had not become a Grandmaster before the Battle of Jingzhou. So I had a sudden thought: could the Battle of Jingzhou itself have been the key to his becoming a Grandmaster?"

"If Emperor Taizong had not risen up during the Battle of Jingzhou, then by all reason the False Qing would have unified the realm, and the Divine Land would have fallen for a second time. Emperor Taizong charged forward on horseback, blade raised, and severed the False Qing's momentum. He changed the world, stole a sliver of Heaven's secrets, and made it his own. Only then could he break through the limits of the ninth rank and enter the Grandmaster Realm."

"The way of the Grandmaster can be called the way of severing Heaven—taking what is severed and making it one's own."

Old Jin had annotated this passage: "A startling claim, but it gives the False Qing too much credit." Yet Chen Wu was chilled to the bone as he read it.

Chen Wu knew that, because of Li Guo, who was suspected of being a time traveler, the people of Great Shun had experienced a different history from his own. Their lessons drawn from history were different, too, and their attitude toward the Manchu Qing was worlds apart.

In the eyes of the people of Great Shun, the Manchu Qing had risen while the Former Ming was weak. Then, when the Shun army and Wu Sangui had exhausted themselves fighting at Yipian Stone, the Manchu Qing had swooped in to steal the fruits of victory, taking a shortcut into the Central Plains. They had never been strong to begin with.

Though they had once occupied the entire north, declared themselves rulers, and established a dynasty, and had even overthrown the Southern Ming Hongguang regime and grown arrogant enough to issue the order to shave one's head, barely two years after entering the pass, they had been turned around by Li Guo at Jingzhou. In the years that followed, they suffered defeat after defeat until they were swept from the land.

To a typical person of Great Shun, the Manchu Qing was merely an ordinary separatist regime that had gotten lucky. Among similar borderland regimes, it was nowhere near as formidable as Western Xia, which had endured for nearly two hundred years. At most, it was a successful version of Bo Bai's Ningxia rebellion.

With that reputation, even though the Manchu Qing had once been invincible on the battlefield, few people of Great Shun truly believed it would have brought about a second fall of the Divine Land. They assumed that resistance would surge across the realm under the order to shave one's head, and that sooner or later a hero would rise up and overthrow the Manchu Qing.

There's a saying: a revolution that succeeds too well can make later generations question whether it was necessary at all. Li Guo, who was suspected of being a time traveler, had fought the Manchu Qing so successfully that people greatly underestimated them.

History shaped the present, but often the present also shaped how people viewed history.

Thus, in the eyes of the people of Great Shun, the Manchu Qing was a lucky, arrogant clown, fit to be made the butt of jokes in all sorts of lurid little books.

The Battle of Jingzhou, promoted as Li Guo's triumph, mainly highlighted his brilliance and prowess: how he had foreseen the future, slain generals, and seized the enemy's banner. Lekedehun was merely a foil, with a reputation no better than Yan Liang and Wen Chou.

But Chen Wu knew that without Li Guo's rise, the Manchu Qing really could have unified the realm and ruled for a long time. Lekedehun had become an iron-capped prince of the Manchu Qing, and his princely estate had lasted until before Chen Wu traveled through time.

The author of this preface had actually struck right at the heart of the matter. Chen Wu couldn't help taking his words seriously.

Could the Grandmaster Realm really have something to do with the Battle of Jingzhou?

Did becoming a Grandmaster require changing the course of history, as Li Guo had done?

"Emperor Taizong severed the Manchu Qing's momentum and attained the Grandmaster Realm. I am of limited learning, and could only think of a way to sever another person's Concentrated Spirit cultivation. My thoughts are shallow and incomplete; I do not know whether this method can work. I hope those who come after me will examine it carefully and improve upon it."

By this point, Chen Wu was speechless. So this so-called manual, despite its intimidating name, was just an unfinished conjecture. The original owner really had been reckless. Even the author didn't know whether it would work, yet he'd dared to start practicing it.

Even Old Jin couldn't help commenting from the sidelines: "Chen Gawa really had a hard head."

Old Jin's outlandish assessment wasn't wrong. If the author hadn't pointed out that Li Guo had severed the Manchu Qing's momentum, Chen Wu would have thought Old Jin's comment was rather restrained.

By now, Chen Wu was at a loss. The manual was clearly full of pitfalls, yet somehow he had inexplicably managed to practice it. Even he didn't know whether he should keep training in this bizarre manual.

After less than a second of agonizing, Chen Wu decided not to think about it and to finish reading first.

The next morning.

At first light, Monk Zhongcheng saw Chen Wu, bleary-eyed with sleep.

"Did you not sleep well last night, sir? Are you worried about Old Ma?"

"Mm-hmm." Chen Wu went along with him.

Wasn't it because he'd stayed up too late reading the manual? It really was a heretical text, and Old Jin's notes were as sharp and sarcastic as comments scrolling across a screen. Yet they also revealed the martial insights of a Mystic Realm expert, sparking flashes of inspiration time and again. Chen Wu couldn't stop himself from reading it all in one sitting. Only then did he remember the letters he needed to write to Old Ma and Shui Ziyi.

"Sir, there's no need to worry. Old Ma is usually kind and does good deeds, and he's a clever man. He'll surely be safe," Zhong Cheng said. "If you have a message to send, you can give it to me now."

Chen Wu nodded and took out the two letters he'd stayed up late writing the previous night. "I'm counting on you! One is for Old Ma, and the other is for General Shui."

"I'll make sure they reach their destination!"