A Life of Attributes Starting as a Nobleman in the Republic of China Era

Chen Che followed with his suitcase, and the little monk called out from behind, "Abbot, your arm—", but Master Jueyuan waved his hand without turning his head.

They passed through the main hall, then through a side hall cluttered with miscellaneous items, and through a moon gate, arriving at a secluded courtyard. In the courtyard stood an old locust tree, its trunk so thick that two people couldn't encircle it, its canopy shading most of the courtyard. Behind the locust tree was a row of low meditation rooms, their doors and windows tightly shut, the corners of the walls covered in moss.

Master Jueyuan pushed open the door to the innermost meditation room and stepped aside to let Chen Che in.

The meditation room was dark, with only an oil lamp flickering on the altar. There was no Buddha statue on the altar, only a wooden box, which was locked with an old-fashioned brass lock that had rusted to a bluish-green color.

Master Jueyuan sat down on the prayer mat and pointed to the prayer mat opposite him: "Sit."

Chen Che sat down and placed the suitcase at his feet.

"Let me see that jade pendant again," Master Jueyuan said.

Chen Che handed it over. Master Jueyuan took it, placed it in his palm, and gently stroked the curved symbol on it with the fingers of his other hand. His movements were slow, as if he were caressing a lost treasure that had been found again.

"These are the Mohist 'mechanism symbols'," he said in a low voice. "Each line corresponds to a solution to a mechanism. There are no more than five people in the world who recognize these symbols now."

He placed the jade pendant on the offering table, then turned to look at Chen Che: "Who taught you those sixteen words you just mentioned?"

"A Mr. Xu from Shanghai."

Master Jueyuan nodded, as if he already knew the answer: "Xu Mingyuan. Is he still alive?"

"exist."

"Still running that general store?"

Chen Che was slightly taken aback: "You know Mr. Xu?"

Master Jueyuan didn't answer. Instead, he took a cloth bag from beside the prayer mat, opened it, and inside was a thin booklet. The cover was gone, the pages were yellowed and brittle, and the edges were curled. He turned to a page and handed it to Chen Che.

It was a hand-drawn map, depicting the shape of the Big Dipper, but each star's position was marked with a place name. Chen Che immediately recognized several—Shanghai, Luoyang, Chang'an… and one more place, circled in vermilion, with three small characters written next to it:

Shaoshi Mountain.

"Everything Mr. Xu told you is true." Master Jueyuan's voice echoed in the dimly lit meditation room, carrying a metallic quality. "The seven eye-suppressing techniques of the Mo family, the seven martial arts of Shaolin, the positions of the Big Dipper... these are all true. But there is one thing he doesn't know."

Master Jueyuan looked at Chen Che, his gaze suddenly becoming exceptionally sharp.

"Those seven key points have already been tampered with."

carry on

Chen Che's heart sank.

"What?"

"Those soldiers from last month," Master Jueyuan's voice lowered, as if he were suppressing something, "ostensibly came to rob things, but in reality, someone instructed them to scout ahead."

He raised his injured arm, the bandage still stained with faint traces of blood: "They searched the library, not for gold and silver. They were looking for this."

He pulled a roll of yellow silk from his robes and unrolled it. On it was a drawing in ink. Chen Che leaned closer to examine it. The drawing depicted the topography of a mountain, with seven small dots marked on its interior. Connecting these dots, they formed the shape of the Big Dipper. Next to each dot were words, the ink somewhat blurred, but he could still make out a few—

"Tian Shu, Tian Xuan, Tian Ji..."

"Yes." Master Jueyuan put away the yellow silk. "This is something that Shaolin Temple has kept for over a thousand years—a map of the distribution of the Mo Family's eyes. There are only three copies in the world. One is in the hands of Master Xu Mingyuan, one is in the White Horse Temple in Luoyang, and the last one... is in Shaolin."

He paused for a moment, then continued, "Although that group didn't find the map, they found something else."

"What is it?"

"The notes from generations of eminent Shaolin monks," Master Jueyuan's voice turned bitter. "They record the agreement between Shaolin and the Mohist school, and... the specific techniques needed to open the Zhenyan (a magical eye). They took the notes, which means they know that to unlock the Mohist school's seal, they must use Shaolin's techniques. What they need to do next is come and find the people of Shaolin."

Chen Che's breathing quickened: "They want to force the Shaolin people to open the Zhenyan for them?"

"It's not 'them'," Master Jueyuan shook his head. "It's the people who directed them. Those soldiers were just pawns; the people behind them are the ones who are truly after the Mo family's treasure."

"Who is it?"

Master Jueyuan remained silent for a long time. The flame of the oil lamp flickered, casting two shadows on the wall, one large and one small, like two ink stains that could be blown away by the wind at any moment.

"Do you know why the Mohists left these seven sites as warnings when Qin Shi Huang burned books and buried scholars alive?" He suddenly asked a seemingly unrelated question.

Chen Che was taken aback: "My grandfather mentioned it in his notes, saying it was to suppress something."

"To suppress something." Master Jueyuan repeated, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, it was hard to tell if it was a smile or something else. "Did your grandfather say the same thing?"

"Yes."

"Did your grandfather tell you what exactly was being suppressed?"

Chen Che shook his head. His grandfather's notes stopped at the most crucial point, as if he had been interrupted halfway through a sentence.

Master Jueyuan stood up, walked to the offering table, picked up the locked wooden box, and placed it in front of Chen Che.

"Open it."

"I don't have the key."

Master Jueyuan handed him the jade pendant: "Put it on the keyhole."

Chen Che took the jade pendant with some skepticism and aligned the curved symbol with the keyhole of the copper lock. As soon as the jade pendant touched the lock, he felt a slight warmth in his palm—the jade pendant seemed to be spinning on its own, fitting perfectly into the grooves of the keyhole.

With a click, the copper lock popped open.

Chen Che lifted the lid of the box, revealing a layer of yellowed velvet inside, upon which lay an extremely thin scroll of silk. He carefully unrolled it; the characters on the scroll were written with cinnabar, the color of which had darkened to the point of resembling dried blood.

He glanced over at it, and his gaze suddenly froze.

The silk scroll contained only a few lines of text, but each word struck him like a heavy hammer blow to the chest:

"Qin Huali, the leader of the Mohist school, was ordered by his master to use the seven dragon veins of the world as eyes, mechanical arts as locks, and Shaolin internal energy as keys to suppress the remnant soul of Chi You. As long as this soul is not destroyed, it will cause disturbances in every dynasty. If one day all seven locks are opened, Chi You will be resurrected, and the world will be in chaos."

Chen Che's fingers began to tremble.

Chi You.

That ancient legend of the demon god who fought the Yellow Emperor at Zhuolu. He always thought it was just a myth, an absurd record in the Classic of Mountains and Seas, a story embellished by storytellers.

But this silk scroll before us is at least a thousand years old. The words written by the leader of the Mohist school could not have been fabricated out of thin air.

"This...this is impossible." He heard his own voice, dry and rough like sandpaper rubbing against wood.