You, a tyrannical ruler, roam the heavens; you cannot understand my joy.

Click to begin the wondrous journey of "Wandering the Heavens as a Tyrant, You Don't Understand My Joy".

Mount Song, Shaolin Temple.

The mountain mists had not yet dissipated, enveloping the ancient temple in a cool fog. The distant sound of the bells pierced through the thin mist, startling the crows in the forest.

It should have been the time for morning meditation, but the abbot of Shaolin Temple, dressed in a bright red and gold-embroidered kasaya and holding a nine-ringed staff, led several senior monks, including the head of the Bodhidharma Hall, the head of the Arhat Hall, and the head of the Discipline Hall, to stand solemnly outside the mountain gate.

A cold wind swept by, ruffling their graying beards and dark monks' robes. Everyone's face was solemn, devoid of joy or sorrow, their gazes occasionally drifting down to the winding, snake-like stone steps hidden in the mist.

The abbot was over sixty years old, with a gaunt face and deeply etched wrinkles on his forehead. Yet, his wise eyes held a deep suspicion and a hint of barely perceptible unease.

Yesterday, the magistrate of Dengfeng County personally went up the mountain, dismissed his attendants, and whispered to him: His Majesty will visit Shaolin Temple incognito the next morning.

The specific reason was not stated, but he was repeatedly instructed to greet them with utmost respect and not to show the slightest negligence.

His Majesty?

Emperor Zhao Gou of the Song Dynasty?

Why is he not in the imperial palace of Yingtian Prefecture, but has come to this ancient temple deep in the mountains?

Paying homage to Buddha?

pray?

Xuan Ci immediately dismissed the idea.

The actions of this emperor since his ascension to the throne have nothing to do with the word "piety".

He ruthlessly purged the court and implemented new policies with swift and decisive action.

The crackdown on Buddhism, using incidents such as Ciyun Temple and Shuiyue Nunnery as pretexts, stirred up a bloody storm in Jiangnan, resulting in the confiscation of numerous temples and the forced disrobing of many monks and nuns.

Now, having personally visited Shaolin, the "ancestral home of Zen Buddhism and the source of all martial arts under heaven," I'm afraid...

It's not as simple as just offering incense.

Is it a blessing or a curse?

Xuan Ci's withered fingers unconsciously twirled the 108 sandalwood prayer beads, the icy touch unable to suppress the ripples in his heart.

Is it because the imperial court is short of money and has its eyes on the land and incense accumulated by Shaolin over hundreds of years?

Or perhaps they had heard of the reputation of the warrior monks in the temple and wanted to forcibly conscript them into the army?

or……

He glanced at his fellow disciples who were also silent beside him, and from their lowered eyelids and tightly pursed lips, he could sense a similar heaviness in them.

"They've arrived," the Dengfeng County magistrate, who was waiting with him, suddenly said in a low voice, his tone tense.

Deep in the mist, at the end of the stone steps, a figure gradually appeared.

A group of more than ten people walked steadily through the morning mist.

The person in the lead was dressed in a black brocade robe with a dark cloak over it. He was tall and straight, and his face became clearer in the dissipating mist.

The ten guards behind him were all dressed in ordinary, close-fitting clothes, but their eyes were sharp, their breathing was deep and steady, and their steps were perfectly coordinated, subtly protecting the person in the middle without leaving any gaps.

"Amitabha." The abbot suppressed the myriad thoughts in his mind, stepped forward, and led the monks and local officials to bow and put their palms together.

"The abbot of Shaolin Temple on Mount Song, leading all the monks of the temple, respectfully welcomes Your Majesty's arrival. Long live Your Majesty! Long live Your Majesty! Long live Your Majesty!"

Lu Zuo didn't stop walking, he just waved his hand casually: "Abbot and all the masters, there's no need for such formalities. I was just passing through and thought I'd drop by."

"Get up, everyone."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

The abbot stepped aside to lead the way: "The mountain gate is simple, Your Majesty, please."

Stepping through the mountain gate and passing through the stele forest, you arrive at the spacious plaza in front of the hall.

As dawn breaks, the lingering mist dissipates, revealing the core scenery of Shaolin Temple in its entirety.

The square, paved with bluestone, is as smooth as a mirror and can accommodate thousands of people practicing martial arts.

The front is the majestic Mahavira Hall, with a double-eaved hip roof covered with understated glazed tiles that shimmer with a golden and blue glow in the winter sun. The copper bells hanging from the eaves ring out clear and melodious sounds in the wind.

The huge bronze incense burner in front of the hall was filled with wisps of incense smoke, made of valuable sandalwood and agarwood.

The side corridors and auxiliary halls are all painted in vermilion, with brackets, flying eaves, carved beams and painted rafters, displaying exquisite craftsmanship.

The distant pagoda forest and bell and drum towers, faintly visible, all reveal the profound heritage of this ancient temple with its thousand-year history…

An astonishing accumulation of wealth. This is hardly a place of quiet meditation with ancient lamps and Buddha statues; it is clearly an independent kingdom with magnificent architecture and a solemn atmosphere.

Lu Zuo glanced over the valuable glazed tiles, the huge bronze incense burner, and the exquisite paintings for a moment before walking straight into the Mahavira Hall, which was filled with the smoke of incense.

......

The hall is spacious, with a dome supported by nanmu pillars that would take several people to encircle, and a sixteen-foot-tall golden statue of Shakyamuni enshrined in the center.

On either side are Manjushri and Samantabhadra. Although the gold lacquer is somewhat old, it is very well preserved and shines with a solemn and precious light.

The lamps burned day and night, and the air was filled with the rich aroma of sandalwood and ghee.

The abbot invited Lu Zuo to sit on the sandalwood chair that had been prepared beforehand, while he and several other senior monks sat on the prayer mats below. The county magistrate and the guards all retreated to the outer corridor of the hall.

"Your Majesty has come from afar; what instructions do you have for me?"

Lu Zuo cut to the chase: "I have come here for two matters."

"First, the Jurchens occupied our land and slaughtered our people; this is a national enemy."

"The Northern Expedition to recover the Central Plains is the most important task for the entire nation."

"I have heard that the monks of Shaolin have a long tradition of practicing martial arts to strengthen their bodies and protect the temple, and among them are many who are exceptionally strong and skilled."

"I intend to conscript the martial monks from Shaolin Temple and incorporate them into the army to assist the court in its northern expedition."

"The number of personnel is tentatively set at five hundred. All provisions, supplies, armor, and weapons will be provided by the imperial court."

Enlist in the army?

The abbot and several senior monks' expressions changed instantly. Although they tried their best to restrain themselves, the shock and resistance in their eyes were almost impossible to hide.

"Amitabha."

The abbot forced himself to remain calm, but his voice involuntarily lowered: "Your Majesty, Buddhist disciples refrain from killing and cultivate compassion."

"Upholding the precepts and practicing purity, and performing rituals to liberate the souls of the deceased, are the fundamental duties of us Buddhist monks."

"Going into battle violates the Buddha's teachings of compassion, breaks the precept against killing, is detrimental to the conduct of a monk, and hinders spiritual practice."

"If this precedent is set, it may shake the foundation of Buddhism, and it is not in line with the benevolent policies of the imperial court."

"Your Majesty, please... reconsider."

The words were tactful, but the refusal was quite obvious.

Shaolin monks have always only served to protect the temple and defend themselves, or to fight in the martial arts world. They have never truly served the imperial court to the death.

Not to mention the brutal battlefield against the Jin cavalry!

It is not easy for a temple to train a warrior monk; how can we send him to fill the trenches on the battlefield?

Lu Zuo seemed to have expected this, and remained unperturbed, continuing, "The second thing."

"I have also heard that Shaolin Temple possesses a martial arts manual originating from Bodhidharma, called the Yi Jin Jing, which has the miraculous effects of changing tendons and marrow, and transforming the body."

"It is of great benefit to strengthening the military and training troops."

"I wish to borrow this scripture to train the physique and enhance the strength of the new army."

"If the Northern Expedition succeeds, this scripture shall be returned to the country. Shaolin has also made a great contribution to the nation."

Yi Jin Jing!

Upon hearing this, the abbot and the others' faces went beyond just looking unpleasant; they turned deathly pale instantly!

His eyes flashed with horror, anger, and a hint of deep-seated fear.

The Yi Jin Jing, the treasure of Shaolin Temple, is a supreme internal martial arts manual. Historically, only the abbot and a very few core elders were qualified to study it. Why would someone so readily offer to "borrow" it for military training?

This is blasphemy!

They treat Shaolin's unique skills as ordinary military strategies and tactics, and they want to dig up the roots of Shaolin!

"His Majesty!"

The head of the Bodhidharma Academy couldn't help but speak up: "The Yi Jin Jing was indeed transmitted by Bodhidharma, but its practice method is profound and obscure, closely integrated with Buddhist teachings and Zen principles."

"It is extremely difficult for a Buddhist disciple who is not well-versed in Buddhist scriptures, strictly observes the precepts, and has a pure and undistracted mind to enter the Buddhist order."

"Forced practice is not only useless, but it can also easily cause qi and blood to flow in reverse, leading to qi deviation and even death!"

"Using this scripture to train troops is likely not a good strategy and may even endanger the lives of soldiers!"

"Furthermore, this scripture is a sacred relic passed down through our temple, and it is not something that can be easily lent out. We earnestly hope for Your Majesty's understanding!"

The words were sincere, even implying that they were "thinking of His Majesty's best interests," but the core message was simple: no, they couldn't give it, and giving it would be useless and would only kill people.

Lu Zuo listened quietly, his gaze sweeping over the slightly flushed faces of the high monks, who were agitated and resistant, while he chuckled inwardly.

Abstaining from killing? Having compassion?

Is the Yi Jin Jing (Muscle/Tendon Changing Classic) only practiced by Buddhist disciples?

It's nothing more than a fancy excuse to maintain its own independent kingdom and core interests.

Although Buddhism at this time had experienced several large-scale suppressions and was forced to undergo a certain degree of Sinicization, absorbing Confucian and Taoist ideas, it was far from being completely transformed.

The temple possessed vast assets, its monks enjoyed special privileges, high-ranking monks lived luxurious lives, the temple housed military forces, interfered in local affairs, and even colluded with local powerful figures.

In essence, it remains a vast parasitic group with strong Hindu sectarian characteristics, semi-independent of the imperial system.

The esoteric Buddhist collusion at Ciyun Temple and the filth and corruption at Shuiyue Nunnery are just the tip of the iceberg.

The true and complete integration of Han Buddhism into secular life did not occur until the Ming Dynasty, after more in-depth political rectification and ideological discipline.

The Shaolin Temple today, including these seemingly virtuous monks, is far from being a place of "compassion and salvation."

What they care about first and foremost is Shaolin's transcendent status, temple property, and martial arts heritage, rather than the rise and fall of the nation or the suffering of the people.

"It seems I have been presumptuous."

Lu Zuo stood up, his tone calm and unreadable: "The Buddhist temple is a pure land, and it has its own rules."

"The Northern Expedition is a matter of worldly warfare and should not disturb those outside the secular world."

"Since the Yi Jin Jing is a precious cultural relic, it is not convenient to lend it out, and I will not force you to do so."

The abbot and the others were all stunned. All the more excuses, defenses, and even subtle rivalries they had prepared were stuck in their throats.

The emperor... just gave up so easily?

This only made them more uneasy, as if they had punched empty air.

"I have important matters to attend to and cannot stay any longer."

"Abbot, esteemed masters, please take care of yourselves."

After Lu Zuo finished speaking, he turned and walked out of the hall. Ten guards followed silently.

"Best farewell to Your Majesty."

The abbot and the others quickly stood up, put their palms together in greeting, and only slowly straightened up when the group's figures disappeared into the square outside the hall and merged into the stone steps leading down the mountain, where they could no longer be seen.

......

Inside the hall, there was a deathly silence.

"Abbot Brother,"

Xuan Nan, the head of the Arhat Hall, was the most impatient. He said in a deep voice, "His Majesty's trip is by no means without a purpose."

"Having failed to obtain the monk soldiers and forcibly borrow the Yi Jin Jing (Muscle/Tendon Changing Classic), how could they possibly give up so easily?"

Xuan Ku, the head of the Bodhidharma Academy, was ashen-faced: "The Yi Jin Jing, along with numerous other martial arts classics, must not be lost!"

The abbot closed his eyes for a long time, and when he opened them again, his eyes were filled with determination: "Amitabha."

"To ensure the continuation of the ancestral lineage... this is the only option left."

.....

That night, at midnight.

The Sutra Repository on the back mountain of Shaolin Temple.

The night was as dark as ink, and the north wind howled, whipping up the remaining snow on the ground.

The night, which should have been quiet with only the sound of wind, was now filled with a tense and oppressive atmosphere.

In the open space in front of the pavilion, several horse-drawn carriages, their wheels covered with thick cloth to conceal the sound of their wheels, were already prepared.

The abbot emerged alone from the meditation room, clutching a seemingly ordinary yellow silk bundle tightly in his hands.

He arrived at the pavilion, where the abbot of the Bodhidharma Academy, Xuanku, and the abbot of the Arhat Hall were already waiting. Their faces were solemn, and their eyes were bloodshot.

"Is everything ready?" the abbot asked in a low voice, his voice slightly ethereal in the wind.

The head monk of the Arhat Hall nodded and pointed to the carriage: "The temple's most essential seventy-two unique skills, the insights of eminent monks throughout history, and some precious Buddhist scriptures have all been packed into boxes."

The abbot handed the package to the head of the Arhat Hall: "The Yi Jin Jing is crucial to the lifeline of Shaolin, so please keep it safe and send it as planned..."

Before the words were even finished!

"call out!"

A piercingly sharp shriek tore through the night sky without warning, faster than the naked eye could perceive!

puff!

The arrow came from the darkness and pierced the throat of the head monk of the Arhat Hall who was reaching out to receive the package!

The arrowhead emerged from the back of his neck, bringing with it a spray of warm blood!

His body stiffened abruptly, his eyes bulged, and he stared incredulously into the darkness where the arrow had come from, the yellow silk bundle he had just received slipping from his hand and falling to the ground.

A dark figure, like a ghost blending into the night, darted out from the shadows beside the library with incredible speed, almost skimming the ground, and snatched the yellow silk bundle in its hand just as it was about to hit the ground!

His speed and cunning were so great that even a master like the abbot of Shaolin Temple only saw a blur before his eyes!

"You scoundrel, how dare you!"

The abbot, furious, roared and unleashed the Shaolin's ultimate technique, the Vajra Palm, with unparalleled force. The palm wind swept towards the back of the man who had tried to steal the scriptures, determined to kill him instantly!

The person who stole the scripture didn't even turn his head, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, and immediately struck out with a palm.

This palm strike appeared casual, lacking both the fierce momentum of Xuan Nan and exquisite techniques; it was simply pushed out in a plain manner.

However, the instant their palms met...

Roar!

A deep, majestic roar, seemingly from an ancient beast, faintly emanated from the palm of the one who had seized the scripture!

The abbot felt an overwhelming, fierce, and unstoppable force surging towards him. His Vajra Palm technique, which he had painstakingly cultivated for decades, dissipated instantly, like ice and snow meeting boiling water!

Click!

puff!

The sound of the arm bone breaking and the sound of vomiting blood rang out almost simultaneously.

The abbot was sent flying like a kite with a broken string, crashing heavily into the heavy wooden door of the Sutra Repository. The door dented inward and slid down, and the abbot was unconscious, blood gushing from his mouth.

"The Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms?!"

The abbot was utterly horrified and cried out in shock.

This palm strike, this dragon's roar, is clearly the Beggars' Sect's ultimate martial art, the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms, which only the sect leader Hong Qigong and his successors can use!

Who is this person?

Hong Qigong?

No, there are subtle differences in body shape and palm techniques, but the extremely strong and fierce intent is absolutely genuine!

"Who...who are you?"

The abbot suppressed his surging blood and anger, staring intently at the dark figure who had turned around and was steadily holding the yellow silk bundle.

At the same time, deafening shouts and screams of agony suddenly erupted from all parts of the temple!

Flames lit up from multiple directions, and shadowy figures moved about, clearly indicating that a large number of enemies had launched an attack simultaneously. Although the monks in the temple fought back with all their might, cries of alarm and screams could not be heard, clearly indicating that they had been subjected to a premeditated and fierce attack.

The shadowy figure that had stolen the scriptures did not answer immediately.

He held the Yi Jin Jing in one hand and slowly raised the other, pulling off the black veil covering his face.

The cool moonlight, mixed with the distant firelight, illuminated a face that the abbot never expected, yet was now crystal clear.

"Is it you?"