Testing Zen Fingers in the Snowy Courtyard, Discussing Heroes Over Boiled Tea

Snow filled the sky, blanketing the courtyard in white.

The two stood silently facing each other from several yards apart. Snowflakes drifted down with a soft rustle, settling on their shoulders and soon covering them with another thin layer.

Zhu Yingxiong stood quietly amid the snow, calm and composed, showing no haste to make a move. The aura around him was perfectly harmonious, as though he had become one with the freezing snow and the silent courtyard. Only his eyes, clear as cold pools, reflected the wavering shadows of the falling snow.

"This time," Yuan Cheng said, exhaling a plume of white vapor that quickly dispersed in the cold wind. The usual smile had vanished from his face. "Your senior brother won't be as passive as last time."

Before Yuan Cheng had finished speaking, he moved.

With a tap of his toes against the snow, he borrowed the force to leap into the air and pounced forward.

Descending from above amid the wind and snow, he brought the index and middle fingers of his right hand together like a sword. While still five feet away from Zhu Yingxiong, he jabbed through the air with the Clear Still Finger.

His finger force tore through the air with a faint whistle, carving a clear trail through even the curtain of falling snow.

It seemed that over the past month or so, Yuan Cheng had not slacked off either. His Clear Still Finger had improved considerably.

He could now launch attacks at a distance while moving, making up for his former weakness of being able only to respond to stillness with stillness and strike after his opponent while arriving first.

Faced with that sharp finger force, Zhu Yingxiong neither dodged nor retreated. He had been wanting to test the power of One-Finger Zen, so he raised his right index finger like a halberd and jabbed forward to meet Yuan Cheng's incoming force.

Yet he used only half his strength.

"Pop..."

A soft sound rang out, like a pebble falling into a deep pool. The two streams of finger force collided in midair, sending a faint ripple of air outward and scattering the surrounding snowflakes in a sudden swirl.

Before Yuan Cheng landed, he shifted his breath in midair and rapidly jabbed twice more, each burst of finger force faster than the last.

"Pop... pop..."

Zhu Yingxiong remained as steady as a boulder. He merely tapped twice with his right index finger, accurately neutralizing every incoming burst of finger force.

Snow mist burst apart where their forces met, like white lotuses blooming in the air.

After three unsuccessful strikes, Yuan Cheng drifted to the ground. His expression turned solemn as he gave a low shout. "Good!"

His feet shifted, and his body began to weave about in a blur. Sliding across the snow, he circled Zhu Yingxiong at speed, lunging from the left one moment and advancing from the right the next, trying to unleash finger force from different angles. His footprints formed a ring in the snow, scattered in varying depths.

Yet no matter how his movement changed, Zhu Yingxiong met motion with stillness. Often, he needed only to turn slightly or lift an arm a little, then point a finger from afar to effortlessly dissolve those tricky bursts of finger force several feet before they reached him.

His movements were relaxed and unhurried, carrying something of the Zen serenity of a leisurely stroll through a garden.

Yuan Cheng had already launched seven bursts of finger force through the air, yet had achieved nothing.

Attacking from a distance in this manner consumed inner strength greatly. Sweat had appeared on his brow, and his breathing had grown somewhat heavy.

Zhu Yingxiong, meanwhile, was also attacking through the air, yet his expression remained unchanged and his breathing long and even, as if it cost him no effort at all.

Yuan Cheng could not help clicking his tongue inwardly. He knew that in such a contest of distant force, he could never last long.

He immediately decided to change tactics and close in for hand-to-hand combat.

Just as he gathered strength in his legs to pounce, Zhu Yingxiong seemed to have anticipated it. His right index finger was already loosely pointed at the Dubi acupoint beside Yuan Cheng's knee.

Though the finger force had not truly touched him, a sharp chill pierced through the air, making his skin prickle. Yuan Cheng's attack faltered, and he could only twist away to evade it.

His body flashed as he slid sideways, intending to rush in again from an oblique angle.

But the moment his feet moved, Zhu Yingxiong's finger was once more waiting on the path he intended to take as though it had foreknowledge, loosely pointing at the Liangqiu acupoint on his leg.

Again and again, whenever Yuan Cheng tried to move, his opponent's finger seemed to be waiting in advance, subtly sealing off every route of attack. He was forced to change direction repeatedly, his footwork gradually falling into disorder. In the end, he could not step within three feet of Zhu Yingxiong at all.

After trying twice more, Yuan Cheng finally faltered and abruptly stopped. He no longer forced an attack. Exhaling a long stream of white vapor, his chest rose and fell slightly as he looked at Zhu Yingxiong, his eyes filled with astonishment and confusion.

"You... What supreme technique are you practicing? How can you predict my next move every time?"

"One-Finger Zen." Zhu Yingxiong withdrew his stance and answered frankly.

"Good heavens..." At those words, Yuan Cheng's face immediately took on an exaggerated expression that mixed realization with amazement. "So it's One-Finger Zen, Shaolin's foremost finger technique. No wonder it's so wondrous!"

Naturally, he did not know that Zhu Yingxiong could use One-Finger Zen to anticipate his enemy so well not only because the finger technique emphasized intent over form, but also because he had secretly paired it with the fourth realm of Ten Forms of Formlessness, "Reflection."

With his heart-mirror clear, he could reflect the flow of qi around him and the movements of hostile intent. Thus, when his opponent's force was on the verge of being released and their body was about to move, he could already discern the signs, strike later, and yet arrive first.

"I lose, I lose. No more fighting!"

Yuan Cheng suddenly stepped back and withdrew his stance, waving a hand.

He brushed the snow from his monk's robes. "Come on, come on. It's freezing and snowy out here. Come to my little courtyard with me. I happen to have gotten some wild mountain tea recently. We can brew a pot over the stove and warm ourselves up!"

As he spoke, he warmly dragged Zhu Yingxiong out through the courtyard gate without allowing any refusal.

After the two left the meditation courtyard, it returned to silence. Only the jumbled footprints in the snow and the snow pellets still drifting in the air recorded the silent contest of fingers just now, one filled with hidden sharpness.

Yuan Cheng's meditation courtyard was nearby. It was not large, but it was kept exceptionally neat. He led Zhu Yingxiong to sit beneath the eaves, then briskly carried out a small red-clay stove from inside, set a copper kettle on it, and brought over tea ware along with a jar of greenish-brown tea leaves.

The charcoal gradually glowed red, and the water in the kettle began to boil. Steam curled upward, complementing the falling snow beyond the eaves. With practiced motions, Yuan Cheng warmed the cups, added the leaves, and poured the water. A crisp tea fragrance with a faint roasted note soon filled the air.

"In ancient times, there was 'discussing heroes over boiled wine.'" Yuan Cheng pushed a cup of clear jade-green tea toward Zhu Yingxiong and smiled. "Today, auspicious snow has fallen from the heavens. Why don't we follow the example of our predecessors and discuss outstanding figures over boiled tea?"

"Discuss outstanding figures over boiled tea?" Zhu Yingxiong accepted the teacup and inhaled its fragrance with interest. "And which outstanding figures are we discussing?"

"Of course, the most watched figures in this year-end competition—counting you, junior brother, one acknowledged standout from each of the four halls: Dharma, Prajna, Discipline, and Arhat." Yuan Cheng also lifted his teacup and blew on the steam.

Zhu Yingxiong took a light sip. The tea was slightly bitter upon entering his mouth, but its aftertaste was clear, sweet, and lingering. He nodded. "Then I would be glad to hear the details."

"The first person to mention," Yuan Cheng said after a brief pause, his gaze turning toward the snowy curtain beyond the eaves, "is Junior Brother Yuan Hui of the Prajna Hall."

"Why start with him?" Zhu Yingxiong asked.

"Because when he first entered Shaolin, he was hailed as the greatest martial arts prodigy Shaolin Temple had seen in nearly a century. He was the most famous." Yuan Cheng drew back his gaze and looked at Zhu Yingxiong. "But that is no longer the case. Now you're even more famous than he is."

"Do you know why?" Without waiting for Zhu Yingxiong to answer, he continued, "Because you mastered the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture."

He paused, took a sip of tea, and only then continued. "But back to the point. Of the four of you, he is actually the one I think least highly of."

"Oh? Why?" Zhu Yingxiong looked ready to listen.

"The reason for that, allow me to explain later." Yuan Cheng deliberately kept him in suspense and gave a sly smile.

Hearing this, Zhu Yingxiong did not press him. He merely raised his cup to signal for him to continue, with not the slightest impatience in his expression.