Vanishing

The White-Clad Buddhist conceded, and the disciples of Shaolin Temple were exhilarated.

The names of Xuancheng and his companions had become the absolute talk of the younger generation throughout the entire Shaolin Temple.

Over the past few days, they had been mentioned more times than one could count.

Li Su did not understand it at all. Of course, the most important thing was that this atmosphere of being stared at wherever he went made him feel incredibly uncomfortable.

Looking at the Xuan-generation senior brothers who gazed at him with reverence, Li Su felt a toothache. Originally, he was undoubtedly the one with the weakest presence among the eight. But following that day, after that single finger was pointed out, he leaped to become a figure who received even more attention than Xuancheng—no, even more than Xuancheng.

What Xuankong had displayed that day was a top-tier finger technique of Shaolin Temple, the most rigid finger technique in the world: the Second Finger Formless of the Formless Calamity Finger.

It was a powerful technique that even the elders of the Tian-generation had not managed to master.

And it was not just the Formless Calamity Finger; Xuankong had also mastered the Arhat Gong, which no one in Shaolin Temple had successfully cultivated for a hundred years.

Right, the Arhat Gong, its full name was the Arhat Divine Art.

It was the most difficult technique to cultivate in Shaolin Temple, aside from the Muscle Tendon Changing Classic and the Indestructible Diamond Divine Art, and once successfully cultivated, the future was boundless.

"Once Xuankong grows up, perhaps our Shaolin Temple will produce a number one in the world."

Somehow, such whispers began to spread through Shaolin Temple.

In such an atmosphere, Li Su's days were not easy.

Where is your conscience?

Where is your compassion?

You are all disciples of Shaolin Temple; what is there to be so happy about just because you beat the White-Clad Buddhist?

That lay disciple? And the Xuan-generation Xuanxin? Have you all forgotten them?

Li Su could not help but vent wildly in his heart. Why was the focus all on him? Since when did Shaolin Temple care about such hollow fame?

However, on the third day, seeing Xuanxin walk over with a smile to greet him, Li Su's face turned black.

The guy whose lower leg bone had been shattered—he was actually healed???

After asking, the corners of Li Su's mouth twitched, and for a moment, he felt sorrow for Wuyazi.

A dignified big shot, a figure who was number one in the world, yet he fell off a cliff and was crippled for a lifetime.

Over here, a comminuted fracture, and he recovered in three days.

How could he not feel sorrow?

Xuanxin and that lay disciple—no, the other party had already officially become a monk. Although he was quite old, he was also a Xuan-generation disciple with the dharma name Xuanye, and he still had to call Li Su "Senior Brother."

Both of them had recovered.

And what healed them was nothing else.

The Great Restoration Pill.

Legend in the pugilistic world says this pill has the effect of bringing the dead back to life and can treat all internal and external injuries.

Legend in the pugilistic world says this pill can greatly enhance a person's internal energy.

Heh, come to think of it, that makes sense.

In Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre, the Western Regions Diamond Sect had the Black Jade Intermittent Ointment, a divine medicine that could restore Yu Daiyan of the Wudang Seven Heroes, who had been crippled for over a decade. Heh, a comminuted fracture. Damn it, and he had been fractured for over a decade; was that something that could be healed just by re-breaking the bones and applying medicine? If one were to explain it using modern medicine, how many things would it involve? Nerves? Bones? Muscles? Cellular memory? If a mere Diamond Sect could produce such a divine medicine, how could Shaolin Temple, the source of the Diamond Sect, not have medicine of a precious grade?

Wuyazi, he was truly miserable.

Crippled for thirty years, relying entirely on a rope.

Shaking his head, Li Su steadied his mind and decided to ignore the reactions all around him.

There was no helping it; he was already exposed, so what else could he do?

Although he was very unhappy deep down, he did not have the time to dwell on these things.

Cultivation, restarted.

The day after the White-Clad Buddhist incident, the monk Tianming arrived, bringing a large quantity of medicine.

That's right, Li Su had started cultivating the Arhat Divine Art again.

After stopping for more than half a month, practicing it again had a unique flavor.

As his true energy increased, Li Su could not help but reveal a smile. Although he had paid a certain price, this return was not bad.

********

"Abbot Senior Brother."

In the Mahavira Hall, as Tianming arrived, the hall was soon closed.

At this moment, Abbot Tianjian's expression was extremely grave. Tianwen and the others also had their brows tightly furrowed, as if they could not be smoothed out.

Tianming asked with a puzzled look, "Has something happened?" Having repelled the White-Clad Buddhist, Shaolin Temple's prestige had undoubtedly soared, and the disciples had ignited their passion, constantly striving with Xuankong and the other seven as their goals.

Although the consumption was somewhat high, with such momentum, it would not be long before Shaolin Temple inevitably regained its former glory and once again displayed its style as the leader of the righteous path.

Amitabha, although Buddhism should not focus on these things, they were, after all, only practicing Buddhism, not yet Buddhas.

"Take a look!"

Tianjian took out the newly arrived intelligence.

Tianming paused, took the report, and began to read. A moment later, he could not help but widen his eyes.

"Kuxin has passed away? How is that possible? And the White-Clad Buddhist has publicly announced his withdrawal from Putian Shaolin Temple?"

Staring at the contents, Tianming was utterly bewildered.

Kuxin was the Head of the Bodhi Hall at Putian Shaolin, one of the few top-tier experts in Putian.

As for the White-Clad Buddhist, there was no need to even mention him; he was not yet twenty, yet the strength he had displayed was already infinitely close to the first-rate level.

In a dozen years or so, he would undoubtedly have been the pillar of the Putian Shaolin Temple.

One dead, one expelled?

What on earth were they thinking over in Putian?

"Is this news authentic? Why would it come to this?"

"The provocation against Songshan Shaolin was entirely the unilateral decision of Monk Kuxin, so he chose to commit suicide out of shame for having no face to return to Putian. As for the White-Clad Buddhist, he was so devastated by his defeat at the hands of a second-generation disciple of the Xuan generation that he cast off his monk's robes and announced his departure from Putian." Tianxing opened his mouth to speak; he had a rather fiery temper and held no good impression of Putian, feeling immense anger toward both Kuxin and the White-Clad Buddhist, yet at this moment, he did not know what to say. "This is..."

Why???

For a time, a massive question hung over the minds of the few.

Incomprehension. It was impossible to understand.

Why would Master Kuxin do such a thing? Why would he also sacrifice the most talented disciple the Putian Shaolin Temple had seen in a century?

Although the South Shaolin had been at the height of its power over the last hundred years, with its reputation growing ever louder, things were now completely different after such a turn of events.

"A gecko severing its tail."

A voice suddenly rang out, extremely aged, like a candle flickering in the wind.

"Master!"

Hearing the voice, Tianjian and the others immediately bowed.

An extra person had appeared in the great hall—unkempt, with sparse hair, the scars on his scalp faintly visible. Even his eyebrows were white, and his face was covered in wrinkles.

He was Monk Lingquan, one of the only two remaining elders of the Ling generation at Shaolin Temple.

"Master, have you left the Shaolin Temple?"

Seeing the elder's travel-worn appearance, Tianjian and the others could not help but be startled.

"If people have already fought their way to our mountain gate, how could I just sit around in the temple?"

Old Monk Lingquan found a stool, sat down, poured himself a cup of tea, and drank it before saying, "Tianjian."

"I am here!"

"Make preparations. Open the Shaolin Temple's reserves and use everything to cultivate the new generation of disciples."

"Ah?"

"I met that little fellow Kuxin three times. Once fifty years ago when he was still young, and once twenty years ago when he was already the Head of the Bodhi Hall in Putian."

Old Monk Lingquan slowly set down his teacup. "The first time we met, he was very young, full of vigor, and possessed a compassionate heart. The second time, he had matured, his grasp of Buddhist principles was profound, and his cultivation had reached the realm of 'seeing mountains as mountains.' Everything is empty—that boy's understanding of Zen was even better than what I had learned."

At this point, Old Monk Lingquan paused. "And then, the third time, I saw him two days ago."

Tianjian and the others froze at these words. Tianming could not help but exclaim, "Master, you didn't take action, did you?"

Old Monk Lingquan smiled. "We monks, though we cultivate the 'four elements are empty' and speak of having no desires, how could such things be so easy?

If one truly saw through everything, what would be the point of living? Enlightenment, enlightenment—if one truly became a Buddha, it would be time to die.

Since this old monk is still alive, I naturally cannot be devoid of emotion or nature. They fought their way to our door; if we had just let them walk away, then the next hundred years of Shaolin would likely never know peace again. Fortunately, the juniors were up to the task and fought with such prestige that it didn't require us old fossils to step out and lose face. By the way, what was the name of that little fellow who used the Formless Calamity Finger?"

Tianming replied, "His name is Xuankong."

"Xuankong, is it? Good, very good."

He picked up the teapot, but instead of pouring, he drank directly from the spout, gulping down large mouthfuls.

Not until the pot was drained did Lingquan set it down. He looked at Tianjian and the others and said, "Use all your strength to cultivate them. Do not worry about the cost, do not be frugal. Cultivate them as quickly and as thoroughly as you can."

Tianjian and the others exchanged glances, then Tianjian nodded and said, "I understand, Master. Everything will be done as you say."

"Mm!"

Lingquan nodded, but before he could speak further, blood slowly trickled from his mouth.

"Master!!!"

The group was shocked.

"It is nothing." Old Monk Lingquan waved his hand. "On the way back, I exchanged blows with someone. Heh, that fellow was quite formidable. I took a punch from him; the internal force was bizarre—it looked icy enough to freeze bone, but in reality, it was scorching enough to burn the heart. However, he didn't fare well either; I struck him with a palm. Still, I must admit, one cannot help but bow to old age. If this were thirty years ago... never mind."

Blinking his eyes, Lingquan did not continue. "So that is how it is. The 'four elements are empty' is not about discarding, nor is it about giving up; it is about still holding onto it in one's heart. I kept wondering, since I had already reached the realm of 'seeing mountains as mountains,' why I still returned to this mortal world. It turns out I never really left."

"Remember, no funeral."

As the words fell, Lingquan slowly lowered his head and fell silent.

In an instant, the three of them were struck with a jolt, their eyes widening in disbelief.

"Master...?"

Yet, the voice they had been accustomed to for decades never sounded again.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!"

Tianxing was the first to break down, his eyes bloodshot and filled with tears. Who was it? Who? Who on earth was it???