Chapter 262: Starting to Shake Kunlun

Border horse bandits were as numerous as locusts, but as he ventured deeper into Beiman territory, their numbers rapidly dwindled. As Wen Hua, wielding his wooden sword, observed, His Royal Highness was quite melancholic now. Indeed, only amidst the chaos of war and turmoil did decent folk turn to prostitution or banditry. If the world were peaceful, who would willingly risk their lives to be a brigand? This indicated that the situation within Beiman was far from the "people living in destitution" that scholars and gentry claimed. Having witnessed Feihu City, which rivaled the south in its flourishing prosperity, Xu Fengnian grew even more anxious. Even if subtly influenced by the vices of the Spring and Autumn remnants, how many years would it take to soften a Beiman whose customs were as robust as a strong man's into a delicate woman akin to Southern Tang? Thirty years? Fifty years? A hundred years? How could Beiliang afford to wait? Xu Fengnian rode north, spending his journey diligently studying the "Swimming Fish" technique on the seventh page of his blade manual. Because he couldn't grasp its essence, he never looked at the eighth page. Besides his twelve sword-nurturing techniques, and occasionally indulging a dark humor by using his sword to kill snakes and scorpions, he repeatedly practiced the "Rolling Dragon Wall of Sword Qi," which seemed to share a similar mastery with extreme "Rolling Blade" techniques. Under the cool moonlight, in a desolate, unpopulated area, he yelled or cursed without restraint. He cursed countless emperors and generals, including the old emperor, Zhang Julu, and Gu Jiantang. He also thought of many people and events, but regrettably, there was no longer little Tao Manwu to rub away his furrowed brows.

That day, the scorching sun remained relentless. Without the Grand Yellow Court cultivation, even breathing felt like drinking scalding tea. Walking through the desert with a parched water skin seemed to be a form of ascetic practice. Xu Fengnian was reluctant to ride his inferior horse, which struggled in the intense heat, so he walked alongside it, mimicking Old Huang from years past. His ear twitched, and Xu Fengnian walked to the top of a sandy dune to scan the horizon. He could faintly discern two blurry figures in the heat haze, riding horses towards him. Upon spotting Xu Fengnian, their path abruptly changed, and they galloped closer. Xu Fengnian smiled. "Damn it, I've finally run into horse bandits!" It had nothing to do with good eyesight; these two young bandits were simply too conspicuously dressed. Their upper bodies were bare, and their hemp riding trousers revealed poorly done dragon and tiger tattoos. It was as if they had "bandit" tattooed on their faces. When they saw Xu Fengnian, their eyes lit up. These two didn't seem eager to ambush him for money; instead, they whispered to each other. Xu Fengnian, with his keen hearing, stifled a laugh after listening. It turned out they weren't after money, but after *people*. Apparently, their bandit leader was a female hero, somewhat infatuated, and had sent her men to abduct a handsome, fair-skinned, preferably literate young man to be her "husband" of the fortress. The two bandits clearly weren't very impressed with him. They muttered that his arms and legs were too slender and he probably couldn't withstand their leader's rough handling. He was indeed fair, but if such a "pretty boy" stood beside their chief, wouldn't they look like the "Black and White Fiends"? It would be too embarrassing for their chief to bring him out to drink and wrestle with leaders from other strongholds.

Seeing Xu Fengnian frozen, seemingly terrified and unresponsive to their presence, the two bandits grew even more speechless. "Was this pretty boy an idiot?" Usually, nomadic herders they encountered, even if not wetting themselves in fear, were always highly wary. Yet, this young man just stood there foolishly, holding his horse, unmoving. One of the bandits, tattooed with a black tiger, couldn't stand it anymore. He spurred his horse up the slope, pointed his whip at the "pretty boy," and cursed in a rough, crude accent: "In a hurry to be reborn?"

Xu Fengnian ignored the pointing whip and smiled, "I'd like to buy some water from you two brothers." The tiger-tattooed bandit paused for a moment, then swung his whip. Xu Fengnian grabbed the whip, yanked the attacking bandit off his horse, and kicked him. Using more skill than brute force, he sent the bandit's back crashing into his horse's back, sending both man and horse flying off the sandy slope. The dragon-tattooed bandit stared, dumbfounded. Xu Fengnian took down his own shriveled water skin and floated down to the base of the slope, ignoring the struggling, groaning bandit. The bandit's mount, an excellent warhorse, sprang up and shook off dust from its mane. Xu Fengnian transferred the water from the bandit's full water skin to his own, then casually took a straw hat. Without bothering to argue with the two bandits, he whistled and slowly rode away with his inferior horse. Once Xu Fengnian was out of sight, the tiger-tattooed bandit, who had been wailing for his parents, quickly sat up. He rubbed his chest; it was only a slight ache, no serious injury. Still shaken, he said to the dragon-tattooed bandit, "We ran into a tough one." The other bandit clicked his tongue and remarked, "So the pretty boy was hiding his true abilities. The chief will definitely like him!" The tiger-tattooed bandit quickly mounted his horse. "Come on, let's go tell the chief."

Xu Fengnian traveled alone, leading his horse through the desolate, rarely frequented wilderness. According to the Beiman geographical records kept by the Beiliang King's Residence, he was only a few days' journey from the grasslands. He believed he would then have a chance to encounter the nomadic herders who followed water and pasture. While he was fine, his inferior horse struggled with the constant travel through the sandy desert. He thought that once they reached the grasslands, it would be best if his "old brother" could join a wild horse herd, so he decided to remove its saddle and reins and let it go free. That night, during his rest, Xu Fengnian sat cross-legged and lit a bonfire, gazing at the low-hanging stars. His horse also rested on its bent legs, rubbing its neck against him. Xu Fengnian patted the horse's neck, then picked up a piece of soil, chewed it, and found it much moister. This indicated they were nearing the grasslands. Tasting soil was a basic skill for geomancy, used to locate dragon veins. In his youth, Xu Fengnian often accompanied his older brother Yao Jian on geographical surveys, learning many superficial tips for discerning "veins" of energy. It was said that the ancestral dragon of the world originated from Kunlun, with one branch entering Beiman. In the past, few in Beiman discussed this, but after a large influx of Spring and Autumn remnants, this theory became popular. The Empress of Beiman was now seen as the "True Son of Heaven" destined by fate. Xu Fengnian turned to his horse and chuckled, "Old brother, do you believe that?" The horse snorted.

He continued diligently nurturing his swords, one by one, like the farmers in Jiangnan who had to regularly draw water every night to irrigate their rice fields, never slacking. As dawn broke, Xu Fengnian accelerated his breathing exercises. According to Taoist scriptures, in spring one should "dine on the morning glow" and in summer "eat the night mist." The morning glow refers to the reddish-yellow qi that emerges at sunrise, best from the East Sea, while the night mist is the purple qi of midnight in the north, best from the extreme north's cold. Both were particularly beneficial for cultivation. He wondered if this was the underlying reason why a branch of Taoism, with hundreds of Taoist priests, traveled north back then. That lineage indeed lived up to expectations, becoming the national religion of Beiman. The contemporary Grand Master, Qilin True Man, even became a Taoist sage, known alongside the abbot of Liangchan Temple as the "Two Sages of North and South." In the early morning, as he inhaled the reddish-yellow qi, Xu Fengnian couldn't say it felt particularly profound, perhaps because his realm wasn't high enough. However, he did feel slightly more refreshed than usual. He slowly stood up, gaining some clarity. So-called martial arts geniuses fell into three categories: one type possessed unusual physical characteristics, like the Yellow Barbarian, whose physique was extraordinary, born a Vajra, undeniably blessed. Another type, though physically more ordinary, could achieve "heaven-human sensing"; the one riding an ox was a prime example, capable of achieving the magnificent "Heavenly Phenomenon" in a single step. The third type, slightly inferior to the first two, could still reach the level of a "Land Immortal," like Li Chungang who entered the Great Dao through his sword, Wang Xianzhi who proved the Dao through force, or Deng Tai'a who achieved divine skill through swordsmanship. On the path of martial arts, the higher the realm, the more one acts against the current and against heaven. Heaven and Earth were both a home and a cage, yet martial artists sought to forge their own systems, like defiant children establishing their own households. Thus, "heavenly tribulations" descended upon them, signifying that the "Dao of Heaven" was manifest, and retribution was inevitable.

Xu Fengnian looked up at the rising sun in the east and murmured to himself, "Good and evil will ultimately be repaid. If you don't believe it, just look up. Who has Heaven ever spared?" Then he curled his lips and added, "But then they also say good people don't live long, while evildoers last for a thousand years. Ancient people just loved to contradict themselves when expounding on principles."

Xu Fengnian turned to look at a poor, old monk dressed in a kasaya and hemp sandals. His phoenix eyes, charming when smiling and gloomy when narrowed, fixed directly on this Southern Zen Buddhist monk who had been sitting ten zhang away since last night. Buddhism had distinctions between Mahayana and Hinayana, and esoteric Buddhism had yellow and red sects, each with different attire. Because his princess mother was a devout Buddhist, Xu Fengnian had always felt kindly towards monks. In Beiliang, he had even encouraged countless rogue Taoist priests to convert to monkhood for the sake of rewards. However, being in Beiman and encountering an old monk who had traveled thousands of miles to this wild land to spread scriptures, Xu Fengnian dared not lower his guard, even if the monk appeared benevolent and kind.

The old monk pressed his palms together and said, "The young master believes in Buddha. Excellent, excellent." Xu Fengnian suppressed the instinctive killing intent in his heart and silently returned the greeting.

The old monk's kasaya had been washed many times, evident from numerous fine needle mends, yet it remained pure and clean, never appearing slovenly. His eyebrows and beard were snow-white, and he held a bamboo staff, which made him appear even more kindly and compassionate. There had once been a monk in the Beiliang army who wielded a seventy-plus-catty refined iron water-grinding staff. As one of the infantry commanders, he ate meat, drank wine, and killed countless people. On the battlefield, he was like a wrathful Vajra, extremely bloodthirsty, and highly valued by Xu Xiao. Unfortunately, when the Beiliang Iron Cavalry swept through the martial arts world, the great monk retired to the mountains, reportedly passing away in a small mountain temple. At this moment, the old monk smiled faintly and said, "This old monk is traveling north from Liangchan Temple in the south to Qilin Temple, hoping to discuss Zen principles with an old Taoist friend. Although it will likely be like a chicken talking to a duck, it will resolve a lingering matter for me. I happened to see the young master absorbing the essence of the moon and dining on the morning glow, deeply comprehending the profound meaning of the Grand Yellow Court cultivated by Wang Chonglou, the previous head of Wudang. I wanted to chat with the young master, but I was afraid you might mistake me for a villain, so I didn't dare speak first. However, after thinking about it all night, I feel that the young master has deep intentions, but I don't know how they are cultivated. If not careful, and you fall deeply into them, it would be inappropriate. Since the young master believes in Buddha, if you don't mind this old monk's garrulousness, I could perhaps share some insights into Buddhist dharma."

Xu Fengnian sat down again and smiled faintly. "So it is an enlightened senior monk from Liangchan Temple. I humbly ask for your valuable guidance." The old monk did not approach but sat down where he was, facing Xu Fengnian from a distance. Upon meeting, the old monk had already introduced himself, showing full sincerity. The old monk placed his bamboo staff horizontally across his lap, and Xu Fengnian listened attentively.

The old monk spoke slowly, "The young master seals the Golden Casket with the Grand Yellow Court, practices the Twin Rolling Blade technique, externally cultivates the Wu family's withered tomb flying swords, and internally nurtures the Green Snake sword intent of Li Chungang, the foremost swordsman. This is truly a magnificent sight; your aptitude, talent, and resilience are exceedingly rare." Xu Fengnian, whose nearly all secrets had been seen through by the old monk's single glance, was inwardly shaken, yet his expression remained calm. He smiled, "Senior, there's no need to preface with praise then criticize. Just speak plainly."

The old monk chuckled and said, "The ancient sages who controlled floods understood that it is better to guide water than to block it. Whether it's blades or swords, or the Buddhist silent meditation, Taoist sealing of the Golden Casket, or a martial artist cultivating intent within a sheathed blade, generally speaking, all involve going against the current to accumulate spiritual energy. However, the term 'going against the natural order' is not derogatory in my view, young master, so please don't take offense. It's just that if water is blocked until it becomes a flood, the timing of its release becomes crucial. Should one block it completely until the very end, or allow occasional small releases, like the eternal lotus that wilts and flourishes each year, and then wilts and flourishes again the next? Between these two, which does the young master consider superior?" Xu Fengnian replied sincerely, "I wouldn't dare to beat around the bush with a senior. In my opinion, it's better to block it completely. While I understand the principle of a bow needing to be relaxed, I personally believe that if cultivating intent within a sheathed blade is like a woman strolling, stopping and starting, shyly pausing, it will be difficult to achieve anything significant."

Unlike those famous scholars who engaged in "winding-stream wine parties" and debates about kingship and hegemony, becoming aggressive as if it were a mortal feud over minor differences in opinion, wanting to monopolize all truths in the world, the old monk did not. Nor did he pride himself on being from Liangchan Temple. Instead, he carefully pondered Xu Fengnian's seemingly stubborn words, and with a peaceful demeanor, said, "This old monk has never been skilled at discussing principles great or small outside of Buddhist dharma. May I presumptuously ask the young master for a sip of water first? Allow me to consider it thoroughly, and then I will speak to you."

Xu Fengnian smiled, feeling greatly pleased. He stood up, took off his water skin, and casually tossed it over. The old monk gently caught it, then rummaged in his travel bag for a white bowl, poured a small half-bowl, and took a sip with relish. To the old monk, a bowl of extremely plain water was always superior to delicacies, and if it were his lifelong favorite plain congee, it would be even better.

Xu Fengnian took a step back, no longer engaging in verbal sparring, and asked, "If I were willing to allow small releases of accumulated water, what then?" The old monk looked up and said, "Simply enjoy intimacy with women. Young master, your Grand Yellow Court cultivation has actually already reached perfection. The reason for that slight deficiency is not, as you believe, that a few major acupoints remain unopened, but precisely the lack of yin-yang balance." Xu Fengnian's mouth twitched a few times. The old monk laughed heartily, "Young master, please don't mistake this old monk for a lecherous one. Intimacy between men and women is merely common human nature. Although this old monk is a renunciate, I do not regard it as a monstrous evil. Besides, when I was young, I often couldn't sleep soundly at night and would receive beatings and scoldings from my master."

The old monk reined in his smile, his expression becoming serious and solemn. "Young master, cultivating your intent with the injustices of the world is inherently a good thing. There is vast righteousness between heaven and earth, which does not reject killing intent. However, if it is mixed with malice and resentment, it becomes complex and powerful but not pure. You must know that if you stray, every step you take on this path, every bit of effort you exert, though seemingly arduous travel, is actually leading to qi deviation. Have you ever searched your conscience, young master? Furthermore, in this old monk's humble opinion, what people call a clear conscience is often deeply flawed. Even if one feels no shame within oneself, it is greatly lacking in accordance with principle. Allow this old monk to pour a bowl of water."

The old monk poured a second bowl of water, held it level, then tilted it, then shook it, and waited for the water in the bowl to settle. "Young master," he said, "the way we conduct ourselves in the world is like this bowl. The righteousness of Heaven and Earth is the water in the bowl, though its depth may vary. No matter how the bowl is tilted, this bowl of water always remains as level as a clear mirror." Xu Fengnian frowned. "If that's the case, then why do people say 'to hold a bowl of water level'? Is it just a self-inflicted concern for ordinary people?" The old monk took a sip of water, shook his head, and chuckled, "This old monk dares not make a rash judgment. Haha, this bowl of water was cunningly obtained from the young master. I am ashamed, ashamed."

Xu Fengnian didn't know whether to laugh or cry, his gaze softening considerably. He chuckled, "Senior, you truly live up to your reputation as an old immortal from Liangchan Temple. With just a few words, you connect profound principles to small matters, which is far more pleasing to the ear than those 'celestial maiden scattering flowers' Buddhist teachings." Holding the water bowl in one hand, the old monk quickly waved the other and said, "What old immortal? Young master, you flatter me. Old, yes, but very far from being an immortal. Besides reading scriptures year-round in the temple, this old monk isn't skilled at expounding dharma or lecturing on sutras. In truth, I only know how to do farm work, and any wisdom I have about principles comes from pondering over agricultural tasks."

Xu Fengnian asked curiously, "Monks from Liangchan Temple have been bestowed countless titles as Imperial Preceptors. Has His Holiness never been granted purple or yellow robes by the court?" The old monk's smile was light as a cloud as he took a sip of water and chuckled, "Enough warmth from clothes, enough food to fill seven or eight parts of my stomach, and five or six tastes of tea—that's quite enough." Xu Fengnian laughed, "So you have!" The old monk chuckled heartily, "Modesty, modesty. Even if not an old immortal, one must still have the bearing of one. This old monk has a disciple who inherited my monastic robe, and he, in turn, has a daughter. When she learned I was descending the mountain, she urged me to maintain a dignified, immortal-like demeanor while traveling. Seeing that I refused to dress up properly, she lectured me all the way down the mountain as she saw me off."

Xu Fengnian's mouth twitched even more significantly, and he asked softly, "Could it be a young girl named Li? And she has a childhood friend, a young monk from North and South, by her side?" The old monk, as if enlightened by a heavenly eye, immediately understood. "So it is His Royal Highness. I have long heard of Your Royal Highness's sincere devotion to Buddha. No wonder, no wonder. This old monk has been rude."

Xu Fengnian stood up, bowed respectfully, and said solemnly, "Xu Fengnian greets the Abbot." The old monk rose to return the greeting, then sat down again, slowly sipping his water, and chuckled, "Your Royal Highness, there is no need for such formality."

After sitting down, Xu Fengnian asked, "Is the purpose of the Abbot's journey to Beiman related to the suppression of Buddhism?" The old monk nodded, sighing, "Going to Beiman is not out of arrogance to attempt to convert the Beiman emperor, who is determined to suppress Buddhism. Rather, it is merely to speak with the monks about the Diamond Sutra—to act according to human effort, regardless of heavenly fate. The Confucian sage summarized the three hundred poems in one phrase: 'Thoughts without evil.' Lao Zi, riding a green ox, sought purity in his three thousand words of the Dao De Jing. The Buddha, however, established no written texts, which has somewhat confused us. If the Beiman royal court wants to suppress Buddhism, with no temples, no incense, no Buddha statues, no Buddhist scriptures, in this old monk's view, all of that is acceptable. But if hundreds of thousands of monks all lose their Buddhist heart, that is not acceptable."

The old monk carefully placed the water bowl back into his travel bag, then stood up, and with a smile, returned the water skin to Xu Fengnian. "This old monk thanks Your Royal Highness for the two bowls of water; it is a good karma," he said. "If Your Royal Highness is not in a hurry, you may travel forty li to the northwest; there is a gorge there. A brief stop might bring about another good karma."

Xu Fengnian took the water skin and smiled. "Abbot, I have a small favor to ask: could you take this horse with you? I am traveling alone to the north and no longer need to ride it. I also don't dare to easily give it to anyone, fearing it might cause trouble. And if I abandon it, I wouldn't feel at ease." The old monk, who was already a revered Buddhist sage, the undisputed head of Buddhism, smiled kindly. "Certainly, certainly. It will be a companion to talk to on the road, no trouble at all, no trouble."

Xu Fengnian pressed his palms together. "I will take my leave of the Abbot here." The old monk also pressed his palms together, lowering his gaze, and said, "This old monk's parting words are: one day, Your Royal Highness will be able to teach a Bodhisattva to grow black hair."

Xu Fengnian was stunned for a moment, watching the old monk holding his bamboo staff and leading the horse away until his figure disappeared from sight.

Exhaling a long breath, Xu Fengnian, following the old immortal's instructions, fastened his Spring Thunder short blade and sped northwest. He truly had no burdens or worries now.

Indeed, he soon saw a deep, seemingly endless gorge. Xu Fengnian climbed to its rim and walked slowly along the cliff edge of the rift valley, unsure where this "good karma" was supposed to be.

He had walked slowly for half an hour, just finishing his sword nurturing, when the ground beneath his feet began to tremble.

It was as if thunder exploded between heaven and earth.

Xu Fengnian turned to look back. Outside one end of the gorge, thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of wild cattle poured in, a surging mass like a flood cascading into a valley pot. His heart stirred, and he rapidly advanced for the time it takes an incense stick to burn, his scalp tingling. "Damn it, there are over a hundred herders riding horses and leading sheep, carrying all their belongings, walking in the gorge! Aren't they going to be trampled into a meat paste by the wild cattle herd?! This isn't a sunny road; it's the gateway to hell and the path to the Yellow Springs! You lot have lived on the grasslands and deserts for generations; don't you know the dangers of such situations at all?" From his elevated position, Xu Fengnian looked down and saw that some in the stream of herders already understood what the sudden tremor meant. They were in a chaotic panic, like ants in a hot pot. The elders' faces turned ashen, and many women and children cried incessantly. Xu Fengnian looked further, his eyes turning cold. Far behind the herders, dozens of armed Beiman cavalrymen were lingering, but they had already spurred their horses and ridden away. It was, he realized, a ruthless stratagem: driving sheep into a tiger's mouth, a bloodless scheme to wipe out a population.

If not for the old monk's compassionate words, His Royal Highness would have merely watched coldly. After all, trying to stop tens of thousands of wild cattle, surging with overwhelming momentum, by oneself was nothing short of suicide.

Xu Fengnian gritted his teeth, and his figure drifted down to the valley floor.

The more than a hundred herders stared in astonishment. Some of the younger, more callous herders had already begun climbing the cliff, but the rock face was steep, and they couldn't ascend very high.

Xu Fengnian took a step, drew a semicircle, and raised both hands. His feet sank three inches into the ground. He left the herders with only an unfamiliar back.

Just as the wild cattle herd surged into the gorge, the old monk, cradling the horse with one hand, ascended to the summit. With compassionate eyes, he pressed his palms together and said, "This child is truly virtuous."

Xu Fengnian carefully concentrated his qi. He began his technique: "Shaking Kunlun with a Single Hand."