The Legend of the Condor Heroes: Starting from the Bodyguard

Chapter 228 The Nine Yang Manual, The Fire-Worker Monk
A subtle fragrance wafted through the air as an Indian monk emerged from behind a curtain of moonlight.

Zhou Yan is drinking tea in the guest room courtyard.

"Master, would you like a cup of tea?"

An Indian monk approached and placed the sutra scroll in his hand on the stone table. "Amitabha!"

Zhou Yan poured tea and said, "I read the Lankavatara Sutra and learned that it records the essence of the Buddha's teachings on Lanka Island, expounding Mahayana Buddhism. Reading it has enlightened me and given me a lot of insights. Which version is this?"

The Indian monk said, "The four volumes of the Lankavatara Sutra are the original books that Bodhidharma brought with him when he traveled east, and they are written in Indian script."

"Could I possibly see it?"

"That's fine."

An Indian monk gave a scroll to Zhou Yan.

The Indian monk sipped his tea and asked, "If the Vajra Sect from the Western Regions arrives at Shaoshi Mountain, will the head镖师 (bodyguard/escort) intervene?"

“Naturally, Changfeng Escort Agency hired thugs, Vajra Sect committed violence at Tongguan Wharf, and Vajra Sect went to Shaoshi Mountain to settle scores. I can also take revenge for my grudges.”

“Excellent, then let us guide them.”

“Good,” Zhou Yan said with a smile.

After finishing his tea, the Indian monk got up and left, while Zhou Yan took four volumes of the Lankavatara Sutra to his room.

He flipped through the scriptures; it was the third volume.

The Indian monks had the first, second, and fourth volumes.

A spring breeze drifted into the room, rustling the pages of a book. Zhou Yan's vision was filled with winding, illegible characters, not a single one of which he recognized. Yet, between each line, Chinese characters were written in tiny, meticulous script. (Refer to the Sanlian edition)
"The distinction between emptiness and fullness must be clear. Each place has its own emptiness and fullness, and all places are governed by this principle. The Qi must be vigorous and the spirit should be inwardly focused. There should be no flaws, no unevenness, and no breaks in the flow."

"When Yin reaches its peak, it gradually declines, and Lesser Yang begins to emerge. As Yin gradually declines, Yang gradually increases. Yin and Yang complement each other, mutually generating and supporting each other. Lesser Yang is born from Greater Yin, and Lesser Yin is born from Greater Yang. Everything should not be taken to extremes, for extremes lead to change, from heavy to light, and from light to heavy."

Zhou Yan exhaled slightly, "Nine Yang Manual".

After several breaths, he finally calmed his fluctuating emotions. A lotus oil lamp cast a dim yellow light onto the scriptures. Zhou Yan focused intently on reciting and memorizing them. By the end of Hai hour, he had recited the mental cultivation method of the Nine Yang True Scripture in the Lankavatara Sutra word for word, with utmost proficiency.

He left his room, and from a nearby carved window, a dim lamp flickered, and the deep chanting of Indian monks drifted over. He walked over, and the monks, hearing his footsteps, also stopped chanting.

"Master, this scroll of scripture is returned to you."

The Indian monk took the scriptures and then gave the first and second volumes, which he had finished reciting, to Zhou Yan.

He returned to his room, opened the scriptures, and was greeted by familiar words.

"Let him be strong, the breeze still caresses the mountain; let him be ruthless, the bright moon still shines on the great river; let him be cruel, let him be evil, I have enough true energy."

Zhou Yan followed the same method, memorizing the cultivation method. As the moon passed its zenith, he had memorized the first and second volumes of the "Nine Yang True Scripture" thoroughly. Meanwhile, the lights on the Indian monks' side had already disappeared into the night.

Zhou Yan finished reading the two volumes of the Lankavatara Sutra and went to rest on his bed.

……

The bright moon is shining, and the clear spring stone is flowing.

Huang Rong was unaware that Zhou Yan was at Shaoshi Mountain. She avoided Ouyang Feng and his nephew, found an inn along the way, bought clothes, disguised herself as a man again, and rode straight to Shaoshi Mountain.

The following evening, Huang Rong arrived at Mount Song. Just before sunset, she caught a pheasant, cut open its belly with an Emei steel spike, cleaned out its internal organs, but did not pluck the feathers. She then mixed water with mud, wrapped the pheasant in it, and started a fire to roast it.

As night fell, Huang Rong peeled away the dried mud, and the chicken feathers fell off with the mud, revealing tender, white chicken meat with a rich aroma.

She took a chicken leg and started eating.

"In this desolate wilderness, aren't the children afraid of encountering bad people?"

Huang Rong was taken aback. How could someone have approached from behind without her noticing? She quickly turned around.

In the moonlight stood an old monk with a white beard and a wrinkled face. It was hard to tell his age, but he must have been at least seventy or eighty.

Along the way, she had seen several groups of monks and laypeople heading towards Shaoshi Mountain. She secretly followed and eavesdropped, and learned that they were all disciples of Shaolin Temple.

Because of Zhou Yan, Huang Rong had more detailed information than Huang Yaoshi. She guessed that the Vajra Sect would arrive at Shaoshi Mountain soon. Because of the battle at Tongguan Wharf on the Yellow River, she assumed that the people of the Vajra Sect were all burly and strong. So, she breathed a sigh of relief and assumed that the old monk in front of her was a Shaolin monk who was on his way to Shaoshi Mountain.

Huang Rong smiled and said, "Master, you have a kind face and are clearly a highly accomplished monk. Monks are compassionate, what is there to be afraid of?"

The old monk chuckled and sat down by the campfire. “People are divided into different classes, and monks are no exception. Some are just seeking fame and fortune.”

Huang Rong, being quick-witted, felt a jolt in her heart. What kind of monk from Shaoshi Mountain would speak like that? Could they be from the Vajra Sect?

She looked at the old monk again; his robes were spotless, and he didn't seem to have traveled a long distance, making it difficult to determine his identity.

Huang Rong was the kind of person who could lie without batting an eye. She said, "What you say makes sense, Master. I met a wicked monk by the Yellow River, but he was just a wandering monk." "And what about the monk?"

"I killed him, of course."

The old monk clicked his tongue in admiration: "I never imagined that a ruddy-faced, fair-skinned young man like you could speak of murder so casually."

This monk speaks with a harsh tone, clearly not from Shaolin Temple. Huang Rong came to this conclusion from just a few words from the old monk. She asked, "Master, are you a high-ranking monk from Shaolin Temple?"

"No."

"What kind of Buddhism does the master practice?"

Mahayana Buddhism.

"The master's sudden appearance makes me uneasy and unable to eat. Since you practice Mahayana Buddhism, I cannot but show you my respect."

"Does the child perhaps know the difference between Mahayana and Hinayana Buddhism?"

"If there is no need to worry about Theravada Buddhism, then it is permissible to eat 'three kinds of pure meat'?"

"Excellent! The child is clever and quick-witted, and has a natural talent for learning."

Huang Rong chuckled and took the beggar's chicken to the riverbank, pretending to bury it.

“Child, you can eat it. The old monk will just ignore it.”

"How does this make."

Seeing that Huang Rong was clever and quick-witted, spoke considerately, and acted in a way that suited his own temperament, the old monk asked, "Where does your master belong, child?"

"I have no master."

The old monk, confident in himself, laughed and said, "How about you become my disciple?"

Huang Rong looked at the old monk, smiling but saying nothing.

The old monk chuckled, took out a silver ingot from his robe, and tossed it over.

Huang Rong caught it, and was surprised to see that the five finger imprints were an inch deep. She thought to herself that she hadn't seen how the old monk had managed to create such finger imprints. Her finger strength was probably even greater than her father's.

She feigned surprise, "What kind of martial art is this?"

"Vajra Finger"

Huang Rong's heart skipped a beat, and she immediately thought of Bao Xiang, whom she had fought in Zhongdu.

Could this old monk be a member of the Vajra Sect of the Western Regions, perhaps one of the evil monk's master or uncle? If we can manage to trick "Vajra Finger" into coming here, that would be quite good.

“Tell me what you have to say, and see if I can cultivate myself.”

“You have the same temper as I did back then. Would you like to come with me to the Shaolin Temple? I have some things to take care of, and I’ll tell you about them later.”

"Of course I'm willing." Huang Rong buried the beggar's chicken and said, "Master, please wait a moment while I find some vegetarian dishes."

"good!"

Huang Rong disappeared into the forest, and the monk chuckled and took flight like a large bird, appearing and disappearing among the trees, elusive as he followed Huang Rong.

"Should we leave or continue to trick 'Vajra Finger'?" Huang Rong muttered. "Leave. It's not too late now. But I'm not willing to give up. That monk in Zhongdu must have used 'Vajra Finger'. He almost hurt me. If I trick him into giving me the technique, I can teach it to Zhou Yan. Wouldn't it be better to use his own methods against him? Once we get to Shaoshi Mountain and see Father, escaping won't be difficult."

Having thought this through, Huang Rong no longer hesitated. She went straight to the market and found a restaurant. She threw in a silver ingot, prepared the ingredients herself, and after a flurry of activity, she made six dishes, including toon and tofu, asparagus and lily bulbs, steamed Buddha's hand, jade rolls, and auspicious rolls. Then she took a food box from the restaurant, packed the dishes into it, and headed straight for the valley where the old monk was.

……

"Master, I've kept you waiting."

Huang Rong went to the campfire by the river. The old monk was meditating. She smiled and took out some dishes from her food box and offered them to the old monk.

The old monk tried it, praised its delicious taste, and laughed, "No ordinary restaurant or eatery can cook such a flavor."

"I made it."

The old monk nodded: "I see. Considering your sincerity, I will teach you a set of 'Little Vajra Fist'. 'Great Vajra Finger' is not suitable for you at the moment."

Huang Rong's eyes narrowed slightly. She thought to herself, "How come this old monk doesn't suspect that I cooked the food? Could he be following me? What a cunning old man!" Belatedly realizing the truth, she broke out in a cold sweat and memorized the old monk's technique word for word.

The old monk was overjoyed to witness Huang Rong's photographic memory; he had found a gem, and his journey south had been worthwhile. The old monk immediately explained the cultivation method to Huang Rong and demonstrated it once.

Huang Rong had an outstanding memory, and within an hour she had mastered the Little Vajra Fist technique quite well. The old monk was delighted, having found a treasure.

(End of this chapter)