FVN Chapter 7 Shaoshi Mountain, Xiao Jueyuan!
Chapter 7 Shaoshi Mountain, Xiao Jueyuan!
The carriage rumbled northward, its wheels grinding over the gravel on the official road, producing a monotonous and dull sound.
Inside the carriage, Ouyang Ke sat alone. He leaned against the carriage wall, his eyes slightly closed, seemingly resting, but in reality, his mind was churning with thoughts that never stopped.
We have been traveling for seven or eight days since we set off from Sheyang County. Our destination, Shaolin Temple, is still at least two or three days away.
He wanted to retrieve the "Nine Yang Manual," a manual comparable to the "Nine Yin Manual," from the Shaolin Temple's library.
He already knew in his later years that the Nine Yang Manual was kept in the Shaolin Temple's Sutra Repository. As a vital place in the ancient Shaolin Temple, the Sutra Repository was naturally heavily guarded, and ordinary people could not even get close to it, let alone enter it to steal the manual.
However, while all of this might stop ordinary experts, it might not necessarily make Ouyang Ke back down.
The simplest solution would be to inform his uncle so that Ouyang Feng could personally take action and infiltrate Shaolin Temple at night.
But Ouyang Ke was unwilling to do so.
Back then, in order to seize the Nine Yin Manual, Ouyang Feng once broke into the Chongyang Palace of the Quanzhen Sect at night shortly after the death of Master Chongyang.
Unexpectedly, Master Chongyang had only faked his death. He used this feigned death to lure the enemy deep into his territory, and finally used his Innate Skill and One-Finger Divine Skill to break Ouyang Feng's Toad Skill, forcing him to flee to the Western Regions and cultivate diligently for more than 20 years before he could recover his power.
After that battle, the Quanzhen Sect and the White Camel Mountain lineage became sworn enemies, forging an irreconcilable feud. Although the Seven Masters of Quanzhen were no match for their uncle with their current martial arts skills, the seeds of hatred had been sown, and trouble was bound to arise in the future.
If they were to force their way into Shaolin Temple again, offending this ancient temple with a history of thousands of years, it would be tantamount to creating another powerful enemy for the uncle and nephew in the future.
Moreover, the Shaolin Temple's foundation is far superior to that of the Quanzhen School.
With a thousand-year-old tradition and countless outstanding figures, there must be some masters among them!
Although my uncle is highly skilled in martial arts, given his temperament, he will not hold back once he makes a move, and we might end up having a deadly feud with the Shaolin Temple!
Moreover, the origin of the Nine Yang Manual is not simple.
As is known to later generations, after Chongyang Zhenren won the martial arts competition at Mount Hua, he encountered a strange man on Mount Song. This man claimed to be a monk, a Taoist, and a Confucian, and challenged Chongyang Zhenren to a drinking contest, which Chongyang Zhenren won, borrowing the *Nine Yin Manual* for a reading. Afterwards, feeling that the *Nine Yin Manual* was too focused on yin and yang, he combined the essence of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism, writing the *Nine Yang Manual* between the lines of the *Lankavatara Sutra* at Shaolin Temple, and preserving it in the Shaolin Sutra Repository.
This extraordinary man was known to later generations as the "Drunken Monk".
His true identity has been the subject of much debate and speculation in later generations. However, Ouyang Ke had a hunch that this person was very likely the last leader of the Xiaoyao Sect—Xu Zhu Zi.
Xu Zhu Zi was the son of Abbot Xuan Ci. He was born in Shaolin Temple and, although he was later taken to Tianshan by Tong Lao and others to take over the Xiaoyao Sect, his connection with Shaolin Temple never ceased. He possessed the combined internal energy of the three elders of the Xiaoyao Sect for over two hundred years and was also proficient in the Tianshan Plum Blossom Hand, the Life and Death Talisman, and other unique martial arts. His martial arts skills had reached a state of perfection. Only someone like him could effortlessly create the unparalleled Nine Yang Manual after reading the Nine Yin Manual.
The only possibility that could make Master Chongyang wager the Nine Yin Manual and willingly engage in a drinking contest with him is that the drinking monk's martial arts skills far surpass those of Wang Chongyang.
Who was Wang Chongyang? He was the leader of the Quanzhen Sect, the number one martial artist in the first Mount Hua Sword Tournament, and his martial arts were unparalleled in his time. His agreement to a drinking contest with the Drunken Monk, wagering the Nine Yin Manual, was only out of necessity—the monk's martial arts far surpassed his own, leaving him no choice but to agree.
If such a person is indeed Xu Zhu Zi, is he still alive today?
When internal energy cultivation reaches a high level, it has the wondrous effect of prolonging life. The fact that Zhang Sanfeng lived to be over a hundred and Zhou Botong also lived past one hundred is clear proof. If Xuzhu were still alive, what a magnificent life he would be!
Ouyang Ke was unwilling to gamble, nor did he dare to gamble.
He couldn't let his uncle take that risk.
Overt robbery and covert theft are two completely different concepts. Overt robbery would offend the entire Shaolin Temple and might even bring up the drunken monk whose fate is unknown; while covert theft only requires finding a way into the Sutra Repository, finding the Lankavatara Sutra, and copying the Nine Yang Manual from it.
Ouyang Ke understood this principle, which is why he chose the second path.
……
Several days later, in Luoyang City.
Ouyang Ke himself stayed at an inn. Over the next two days, he had the innkeeper take him around town to buy things, and he also hired more than a dozen local farmers as laborers, as well as several clever young servants to serve as his servants.
On the morning of the third day, a large procession set off from Luoyang and headed towards the Shaolin Temple on Mount Song.
At the head of the procession were eight porters carrying eight heavy chests filled with fine silk, tea, porcelain, and two chests full of silver ingots. Behind them followed six servants carrying an exquisite sedan chair, in which sat Ouyang Ke.
Further on, there were several porters carrying incense, candles, lamp oil, vegetarian food, and other items, which were also quite heavy.
This impressive procession attracted the attention of passersby, who began to discuss it amongst themselves.
"Whose young master is this? What a grand entrance!"
"Looks like they're going to Shaolin Temple to offer incense."
"Such extravagance suggests they must be from the family of high-ranking officials or nobles."
Ouyang Ke sat in the sedan chair, listening to the discussions outside, a slight smile playing on his lips.
This is exactly the effect he wanted.
……
Outside the Shaolin Temple's main gate, a wide and flat plaza paved with bluestone stands solemnly on both sides, flanked by ancient cypress trees. The vermilion temple gate is tightly closed, its copper nails gleaming, exuding the majesty of this ancient temple with a history of thousands of years.
A monk in a grey robe was on duty inside the temple gate when he suddenly heard a commotion outside. He frowned slightly, walked to the gate, and looked out through the crack in the door.
He was stunned by that one look.
Outside the temple square, a large group of twenty or thirty people stood, some carrying loads on shoulder poles, others carrying sedan chairs, and several porters unloading things from boxes—a scene of bustling activity.
The monk in charge of receiving guests was stunned for a moment, then quickly opened half of the temple door and hurried out to greet them.
"Amitabha! Esteemed benefactors, this is..." he said, while looking at the procession before him, his gaze falling on the exquisite sedan chair.
The curtain of the sedan chair was lifted, revealing a young and handsome face. The young man appeared to be around twenty-five or twenty-six years old, with a face as white as jade and clear, bright eyes. Although he sat upright in the sedan chair, he exuded the noble air of a scion of a prominent family. However, his legs were draped unnaturally to his side, clearly indicating that he had difficulty moving around.
The monk in charge of receiving guests was moved and quickly put his hands together and bowed, saying, "This humble monk was unaware of your esteemed presence and has failed to greet you properly. I hope you will forgive me."
Ouyang Ke smiled slightly and returned the greeting with a cupped hand: "Master, you are too kind. My name is Qu Fuzhi, a native of the Western Regions. I came here to offer incense and pay homage to the Buddha while passing through Luoyang, admiring the ancient Shaolin Temple with its thousand-year history, to fulfill my lifelong wish."
As he spoke, he gave a wink to the servant beside him. The servant understood and quickly opened a box, revealing it filled with silver ingots that gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight.
Ouyang Ke said, "This is but a small gift, meant to express my sincere wishes. I hope it will be offered to the Buddha to contribute to the incense offerings. Furthermore, I would like to have a golden Buddha statue sculpted in the temple to pray for blessings. Is that permissible?"
Looking at the full box of silver ingots and listening to Ouyang Ke's words, the monk immediately understood—this was a great benefactor from the Western Regions!
His smile grew even more respectful, and he repeatedly said, "Amitabha! Young master's devotion to Buddhism is commendable and truly admirable!"
The monk in charge of receiving guests sighed, "However, this matter is beyond my control. I need to inform the abbot. I hope you will not take offense, young master."
After saying that, he turned around hurriedly and ran into the temple gate.
Ouyang Ke watched his retreating figure, his smile deepening.
……
Before long, the temple gates opened wide.
An elderly monk in a red robe emerged, surrounded by other monks. His beard and eyebrows were white, his face kind, though a hint of sorrow lingered between his brows. He approached slowly, his hands clasped in prayer. His steps were steady, his breath deep and resonant. Though aged, his eyes remained bright and piercing. He was none other than Abbot Kucheng of Shaolin Temple.
"Amitabha! This humble monk is Abbot Kucheng of Shaolin Temple. I greet you, benefactor. You have traveled a long way and must be tired."
Abbot Kucheng's voice was not loud, but every word was clear, carrying a calming power. As he spoke, his gaze slowly swept over Ouyang Ke.
That gaze seemed peaceful, but it actually concealed a sharp edge. From Ouyang Ke's face to his figure, then to his immobile legs, and finally to his pale yet clear eyes—this one glance had already revealed most of Ouyang Ke's true nature.
Ouyang Ke felt that the old monk's gaze was like a deep, still pool, seemingly calm and undisturbed, yet leaving no room for concealment. A chill ran through him; he knew that while the old monk's cultivation was not yet as high as his uncle's, he himself was far inferior. Even a starved camel is bigger than a horse; the Shaolin Temple, with its thousand-year history, even if its influence had waned, was by no means something he could underestimate.
Without showing any outward expression, he quickly bowed in the sedan chair: "Junior Qu Fuzhi greets Abbot. I have long admired the prestige of Shaolin, and it is truly an honor to meet the Abbot's countenance today."
Abbot Kucheng nodded slightly, his gaze lingering on the man's face for a moment before he suddenly said, "Benefactor, you possess martial arts skills and a strong foundation. However, your legs... are they seriously injured?"
Upon hearing this, Ouyang Ke was slightly startled.
This old monk was indeed extraordinary; he could tell at a glance that the man possessed martial arts skills. The abbot of Shaolin Temple truly lived up to his reputation.
He nodded calmly, without a trace of panic in his expression: "Abbot, your insight is truly remarkable. I have practiced martial arts since childhood and am usually fond of fighting. Some time ago, I fought a powerful enemy and was defeated, and both of my legs were seriously injured, leaving me unable to walk. I have come to this temple to offer incense, firstly to pay homage to the Buddha, and secondly because, having suffered this calamity, I wish to study Buddhist scriptures to seek peace of mind and body."
His words were half true and half false; they were both honest and a test.
Upon hearing this, Abbot Kucheng's gaze lingered on the man's face for a moment, as if trying to discern the truth in his words. After a while, he slowly nodded, the scrutinizing look in his eyes gradually fading, replaced by a touch of compassion.
"Amitabha. Despite suffering such a calamity, you still sincerely turn to the Buddha, which shows your deep roots of goodness. This humble monk is deeply impressed." He paused, his gaze falling on the boxes and trunks, and continued, "You have come from afar and brought such generous gifts, so our temple should treat you with the utmost courtesy. Since you have difficulty walking, please come into the temple to rest; there is no need for further formalities."
Having said that, he stepped aside and personally led the way, welcoming Ouyang Ke into the temple. A group of monks followed behind, carrying in the dozen or so large boxes as well.
Ouyang Ke sat in a sedan chair, being carried through courtyard after courtyard, secretly rejoicing.
Although Abbot Kucheng had keen insight, he was ultimately moved by Kucheng's honesty and generous gift, and did not delve deeper. If Kucheng insisted on asking, Kucheng, though he had prepared his explanation, would inevitably cause unnecessary complications.
Inside Shaolin Temple, ancient trees reach for the sky, and the halls stand majestically. Everywhere the eye can see, there is a solemn and dignified Buddhist atmosphere. Ouyang Ke secretly admired the extraordinary grandeur of this ancient temple.
The group arrived at the abbot's courtyard and took their seats according to their status as guests and hosts. Abbot Kucheng ordered tea to be served and began exchanging pleasantries with Ouyang Ke.
Ouyang Ke responded politely and humbly, reiterating his wish to sculpt a golden Buddha and add incense. Abbot Kucheng naturally expressed his gratitude repeatedly, his smile growing even more benevolent.
After a long conversation, Ouyang Ke suddenly said, "Abbot, I have a request that you would be so kind as to make, and I hope you will grant it."
Abbot Kucheng said, "Please speak, benefactor."
Ouyang Ke said, "I have been quite interested in Buddhism since childhood, but the Western Regions are remote, and it is rare to see Buddhist scriptures from the Central Plains. This time, in addition to offering incense and paying homage to the Buddha and commissioning the sculpting of a golden Buddha to express my sincerity, I would also like to borrow some Buddhist scriptures from your temple, copy them down, and take them back to the Western Regions to study and cultivate my character. Is that alright?"
As he spoke, he took out a gift list from his sleeve and presented it with both hands: "This is a small token of my appreciation for the temple's additional donation of one thousand taels of silver for incense oil."
Abbot Kucheng took the gift list, glanced at it, and his smile deepened. He pondered for a moment but did not answer immediately.
Shaolin Temple is a large and powerful institution, with daily expenses amounting to enormous sums of money, which it naturally relies on donations from various devout men and women. However, since the internal strife twenty years ago, the temple has been severely weakened and has had to close its doors to outsiders. In addition, with the turbulent political situation in recent years, with the Mongol and Jin armies fighting endlessly in the Central Plains, many wealthy families are too busy to care for themselves, let alone have anyone who would specifically come to Mount Song to worship Buddha.
Now that the temple's incense offerings have dwindled and its treasury is running low, this generous benefactor from the district is so lavish, immediately ordering the casting of a golden Buddha and the addition of incense, and now he wants to donate another thousand taels of silver to the Sutra Repository—such a magnanimous guest would have been rare even twenty years ago when the temple was at its peak.
Moreover, all he asked for was to borrow a few ordinary Buddhist scriptures, copy them, and take them back with him. If they were to refuse such a request, it would seem that the Shaolin Temple was being unreasonable.
Abbot Kucheng considered several thoughts, but his expression remained kind and gentle. He slowly said, "Since you are so sincere in your devotion to Buddhism, how could I refuse? However, the Sutra Repository is an important place in our temple, the legacy of our past masters, and outsiders are not allowed to enter. If you wish to copy Buddhist scriptures, simply tell me the title, and I will have someone fetch it and deliver it to your meditation room for you to copy."
His words satisfied Ouyang Ke's request while upholding the rules of the Sutra Repository, achieving the best of both worlds.
Upon hearing this, Ouyang Ke was overjoyed, but remained outwardly composed. He quickly cupped his hands and said, "Thank you for your kindness, Abbot! I only need some common scriptures; I dare not trouble you with anything more."
Abbot Kucheng nodded and immediately instructed his disciples to arrange accommodations for Ouyang Ke.
……
Ouyang Ke was settled in a quiet guesthouse within the temple. The guesthouse had its own courtyard, with a few slender bamboos and a stone table, quiet and elegant, perfect for copying scriptures and reading.
After settling in, Ouyang Ke had his servants bring him paper, ink, brush, and inkstone, and then invited the monk who was in charge of fetching the scriptures for him.
The monk was a young novice, appearing to be no more than twelve or thirteen years old. He was handsome with clear features and a calm demeanor beyond his years. Dressed in a grey robe, he clasped his hands together and bowed to Ouyang Ke: "This humble monk, Jueyuan, greets you, benefactor. The abbot has instructed me to fetch and deliver scriptures for you. Please do not hesitate to ask if you require anything."
Jueyuan?
Ouyang Ke was slightly taken aback when he heard the name.
He remembered that the monk who guarded the scripture pavilion in "The Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber" was named Jueyuan. This man possessed profound internal strength but was unaware of it. Later, by chance, he discovered the "Nine Yang Manual" and, on his deathbed, passed the manual to Zhang Junbao and Guo Xiang, which led to the later establishment of the Wudang and Emei sects.
I never expected that Jueyuan would still be such a young novice monk.
Ouyang Ke secretly pondered the matter, but his face remained calm as he smiled and said, "Thank you for your trouble, young master. I would like to borrow some scriptures. I wonder what Buddhist classics are available in the library?"
Jueyuan thought for a moment and said, "The Sutra Repository has many scriptures. Which type would you like to borrow? Is it a Mahayana classic like the Lotus Sutra or the Avatamsaka Sutra, or a Hinayana classic like the Agamas? Or perhaps a Vinaya or Abhidharma text?"
Ouyang Ke listened to the man's detailed explanation and secretly praised him, thinking that this man was indeed born to guard the library. He pondered for a moment and said, "I am quite interested in the classics of the Chan (Zen) school. Do you have the Lankavatara Sutra?"
Jueyuan nodded: "Yes. The Lankavatara Sutra is an important classic of Zen Buddhism, and the library has several versions of the manuscript. If you wish, I will go and fetch it."
Ouyang Ke was secretly delighted, but his face remained calm as he said, "Thank you for your trouble, young master."
Jueyuan turned and left. After about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, he returned carrying a stack of scriptures.
"Benefactor, this is the Lankavatara Sutra." Jueyuan placed the sutra scrolls on the table; there were four volumes in total, and they looked quite thick.
Ouyang Ke reached out and took it, casually turning to a page. His gaze swept over the words, but his heart was searching for the legendary "Nine Yang Manual".
However, after turning the pages one by one, no unusual things were found.
A thought suddenly struck him: the Nine Yang Manual was written between the lines of the Lankavatara Sutra. In other words, one had to carefully examine the margins of each page to find those tiny characters.
He calmly closed the scroll and said to Jueyuan, "Thank you, young master. I wish to study this scroll slowly, which may take several days. May I leave it here for the time being?"
Jueyuan said, "Please feel free to study it. The abbot has instructed that you are a distinguished guest of our temple, and you may ask for anything you need."
Ouyang Ke smiled slightly and said, "Then I'll trouble you, young master. By the way, are there any other versions of the Lankavatara Sutra in this library?"
Jueyuan said, "Yes. Besides this copy, there are several other copies from different eras, as well as a Song Dynasty edition printed in the first year of the Daguan era. If you need them, I can get them all."
Upon hearing this, Ouyang Ke's heart stirred. This "Daguan First Year" was the reign title of Emperor Huizong of Song. He immediately nodded and said, "Then I will trouble you, young master, to bring the Song Dynasty woodblock print as well, so that I can compare and study it to correct any errors."
Jueyuan, unsuspecting, agreed and turned to leave.
Ouyang Ke watched his retreating figure, a slight smile playing on his lips.
This little novice monk is indeed very naive.
Before long, Jueyuan returned carrying another scripture scroll. This scroll was thicker and heavier than the previous one, with yellowed paper, clearly indicating that it was quite old.
"Benefactor, this is the Song Dynasty edition of the Lankavatara Sutra." Jueyuan placed the scroll on the table and added, "If you have any other needs, please feel free to ask me."
Ouyang Ke nodded and said, "Young Master, you've worked hard. How long have you been in the temple?"
Jueyuan said, "I have been growing up in the temple since I can remember, which is more than ten years ago."
Ouyang Ke asked, "Has that young monk ever read the Lankavatara Sutra?"
Jueyuan shook his head: "This humble monk is only responsible for guarding the scripture pavilion. I clean the scriptures on weekdays and occasionally flip through them, but I have never studied them in depth. The master in charge of the scripture pavilion said that this humble monk is still too young and should not delve into profound classics too early."
Ouyang Ke smiled slightly and said, "Although my young master is young, he already has such a calm and composed mind. He will surely achieve great things in the future."
Jueyuan felt a little embarrassed by what he said and lowered his head, saying, "You flatter me, benefactor. I was just doing my duty."
Seeing his humility, Ouyang Ke's goodwill towards him grew even stronger. He thought for a moment, then suddenly asked, "Young Master, has anyone read through the scriptures in this library? Has anyone discovered anything unusual?"
Jueyuan thought for a moment and said, "The scriptures in the Sutra Repository are only occasionally borrowed by the monks of this temple; outsiders are not allowed to enter. As for anything special..." He tilted his head and thought for a moment, then suddenly said, "This humble monk does remember that there seem to be some small characters between the lines of one of the Lankavatara Sutras, as if someone had made annotations. However, this humble monk has not looked closely and does not know what it says."
Upon hearing this, Ouyang Ke's heart skipped a beat.
He suppressed his excitement, maintaining a calm expression, and said, "Oh? Is that so? May I ask which scripture it is?"
Jueyuan thought for a moment, then pointed to the stack of scriptures and said, "This is the Song Dynasty edition. I remember the annotations were written in very small characters, like tiny regular script, densely packed, numbering in the tens of thousands."
Ouyang Ke took a deep breath and slowly said, "I see. Has the young master informed anyone of this matter?"
Jueyuan shook his head: "This humble monk felt that it was just a commentary from someone before, nothing serious, so I did not report it."
Ouyang Ke was overjoyed, but remained calm on the surface, saying, "Young Master is indeed of pure heart. Such a trivial matter is indeed not worth disturbing the Abbot. When I study the scriptures, if I come across those annotations, I will certainly ponder them carefully to see what insightful opinions the predecessors have."
Jueyuan nodded and said, "If you need anything, please feel free to call me." With that, he turned and left.
Ouyang Ke watched him leave until the door closed gently, then he let out a long sigh of relief.
He reached out and picked up the Song Dynasty edition of the Lankavatara Sutra, and gently opened it.
Lines of scripture came into view, the characters clear and the printing exquisite. His gaze slowly moved down the text, and suddenly, between the lines of a certain page, he saw lines of extremely small characters.
The handwriting was as thin as mosquito legs, so dense that it was almost impossible to notice unless you looked closely.
Ouyang Ke's heart suddenly raced.
He took a deep breath, steadied himself, and began to read it word by word.
……
Outside the window, the setting sun cast a golden glow on the windowpanes of the meditation room.
Ouyang Ke sat by the window, turning the pages of the scripture one by one, his eyes burning with intensity, never leaving it for a moment. Those tiny characters, each sentence, entered his eyes and settled into his heart.
"Let him be strong, the breeze still caresses the mountain ridge. Let him be arrogant, the bright moon still shines over the great river..."