The Three Teachings Converge into One: The Path of the Mortal and the Saintly is the Same

Poetry:

The north wind sweeps the leaves across the cold hills, and the smoke of hatred and chivalry mingles with the wild currents.

A young child, embracing the spirit of heaven and earth, with a heart full of benevolence and wisdom, dispels the flames of war.

As winter approached, the north wind grew stronger, and the land north of the Yangtze River lost its former gentle warmth. The mountains and trees were covered in frost, withered leaves swirled in the wind, and a cold mist shrouded the fields, creating a desolate and bleak scene. Su Qingxuan, carrying his books, headed north. He bid farewell to his neighbors in Pingchang Town and traveled through wind and rain, following mountain paths. Before he knew it, more than four months had passed. He was only three or four hundred li away from Qingxu Temple on Langya Mountain when he arrived at a place called Hanshi Town, where the Huai and Si Rivers meet.

This town is situated at a strategic mountain pass, nestled between the foothills of the Langya Mountains on the left and a tributary of the Huai River on the right. It is a vital stop for merchants and travelers, as well as for those who frequent the martial arts world. The town is surrounded by rugged mountains and cold waters. In early winter, the frosty wind carries the mountain air, chilling one's clothes. Although there are taverns and inns in the town's streets and alleys, they are mostly frequented by swordsmen and martial artists, whose faces are often fierce and ruthless. They have lost some of the gentleness of the countryside and gained more of the grimness of the martial arts world.

Su Qingxuan, dressed in a long blue cloth robe, though weathered by time, remained neat and upright. His figure, not yet ten years old, stood out as remarkably slender among the burly men passing by. Yet, he exuded a refined Confucian air, with a righteous energy flowing day and night within his dantian. Nurturing it with ancestral artifacts, his inner strength was already profound and restrained. However, he was solely focused on cultivating his mind and character, using benevolence to help the world, and never entertained the thought of using force to oppress others. Even he himself was unaware that this inner strength, originating from ancient Confucian mental techniques and formed by merging with the pure energy of heaven and earth, far surpassed the fifty years of arduous cultivation of ordinary martial artists.

He entered the town intending to find an inn to rest and then go into the mountains to seek the Dao at dawn. Just as he reached the Cold Stone Bridge in the center of the town, he suddenly heard a deafening shout of killing and the clashing of weapons. The townspeople were so frightened that they scattered and the doors of the taverns and teahouses were tightly closed, leaving only a few gaps for people to peek out.

On the open ground at the bridgehead, two groups of people, armed with knives and clubs, were fighting each other, blood splattering on the frosty ground, and screams of agony echoing through the air.

A group of people dressed in blue robes with bamboo-patterned sashes around their waists, led by a white-faced, beardless man holding a blue steel sword, was none other than Zhou Kun, the leader of the Green Bamboo Gang, who occupied the mountains and forests east of the town.

Another group of people were dressed in reddish-brown outfits with tiger head patterns embroidered on their shoulders. The leader, with leopard eyes and a beard, carried a mountain-splitting axe. He was Zhao Xiong, the leader of the Red Tiger Hall of Zhenxi Mountain Village, also known as the Mountain-Splitting Tiger.

The two factions were the largest martial arts forces around Hanshi Town, and had long harbored grudges over mountain territory and trade routes. Recently, their hatred had deepened to the point that they openly clashed in the town, engaging in a life-or-death battle. The disciples of the Green Bamboo Gang wielded their swords with dazzling skill, while the burly men of the Crimson Tiger Hall wielded axes and clubs with swift movements. Amidst the flashing blades and swirling swords, several people had already fallen into pools of blood, staining the frosty white flagstones crimson. The cold wind carried the pungent stench of blood.

Seeing this tragic scene, Su Qingxuan's compassion was immediately stirred. He quickly stepped forward and stood between the two factions fighting. He spoke loudly, his voice clear and youthful, yet due to the infusion of internal energy, it pierced through the shouts of battle and clearly reached everyone's ears:

"You two leaders, stop! Everyone has their own way of life. We are neighbors and should help each other. Why fight like this and lose our lives? The Analects says, 'Repay evil with justice and kindness with kindness.' It is better to resolve grievances than to perpetuate them. Let's stop fighting and make peace; that is the right way!"

Dressed in a blue robe, he stood amidst the blood and sword flashes, his back straight as a pine tree, his expression calm and fearless, like a pure lotus in a turbid world, completely out of place with the fierce fighting around him.

The sounds of fighting suddenly ceased as disciples from both factions turned to look at the unexpected young boy.

The old swordsman Zhou Kun sheathed his sword and glanced sideways. Seeing that Su Qingxuan was only about ten years old, dressed simply, clearly a poor, impoverished scholar traveling for study, he immediately sneered, his tone full of mockery: "Where did this little brat come from, daring to spout nonsense here? The vendettas and strife of the martial world, the joys and sorrows of revenge—how could a bookish scholar like you understand? Your talk of benevolence and morality is nothing but empty rhetoric that leads to trouble. Get out of my way, lest you get splattered with blood!"

Zhao Xiong, the Mountain-Splitting Tiger, roared, "You pedantic brat, stop pretending! My Crimson Tiger Hall and the Green Bamboo Gang are sworn enemies. Today, it's either him or me who dies. Say another word, and I'll chop you down too!"

The disciples from both factions burst into laughter, all regarding Su Qingxuan as an ignorant and arrogant bookworm, and curses erupted everywhere:

"What do scholars know about the world of martial arts!"

"You're barely out of your teens, and you dare to meddle in men's business!"

"Get out of here, or I'll break your legs!"

Su Qingxuan frowned slightly, still wanting to persuade him again, but one of the ruthless bandits from the Red Tiger Hall had already become impatient. He strode forward, carrying a staff that reached his eyebrows, and swung the staff at Su Qingxuan's shoulder. The force of the blow was fierce, clearly intended to knock him away as a warning to others.

To onlookers, this blow was as fast as the wind, as powerful as a hammer, and impossible to avoid.

But in Su Qingxuan's eyes, the bandit's movements were ridiculously slow. The trajectory of the stick tip was clearly discernible, and even the tension in his muscles and the rise and fall of his breath when he swung the stick were clearly visible.

He harbored no murderous intent, only a sense that this person was arrogant and unreasonable, and needed to be punished to teach him manners and stop. With a slight thought, the righteous energy within his dantian naturally flowed, surging along his meridians to his right hand. He hadn't even learned any martial arts moves; he simply raised his hand subconsciously and gently flicked it.

This flick of the wrist, driven by the will of the heart, is a natural and effortless movement, devoid of any particular technique or style, yet it contains an unparalleled and powerful inner strength.

With a muffled thud, the bandit felt an irresistible force surge through the staff, as if he had struck a mountain. The staff flew from his hand, smashing into a stone wall in the distance and breaking in two. He himself was sent flying several meters away like a kite with a broken string, crashing heavily to the ground, spitting blood, his body wracked with excruciating pain, unable to get up again.

The entire venue fell into a deathly silence.

The disciples of both the Green Bamboo Gang and the Red Tiger Hall were dumbfounded, their faces filled with disbelief.

That ruthless bandit was a master of the Red Tiger Hall, with over ten years of experience in martial arts. Normally, three or five men could not get close to him, yet he was seriously injured by a boy of about ten years old with a casual flick of his wrist.

Bamboo Sword Elder Zhou Kun and Mountain-Splitting Tiger Zhao Xiong's expressions changed drastically. They exchanged a glance, both seeing shock in each other's eyes. This seemingly frail young man possessed such profound inner strength, wielding such power with a mere wave of his hand. Such a figure was hard to find even in the entire Huai-Si martial world!

Su Qingxuan himself was slightly taken aback, looking down at his right hand, his heart filled with astonishment. He had never learned any martial arts techniques, nor had he ever fought anyone. Just now, he had merely acted spontaneously, yet it possessed such power. He then realized that he had been practicing the Confucian inner cultivation method day and night, drawing the pure energy of heaven and earth into his body and cultivating his righteous energy in his dantian. This inner strength was already extremely profound, far surpassing that of ordinary martial artists. However, he had been so focused on cultivating his mind that he had not yet realized it.

In his eyes, the internal strength of these martial artists was nothing more than a trickle, while his own vast internal energy was an ocean; no matter how fast their moves were, under the influence of the Qi of the Great Dao of Heaven and Earth, they were as slow as a tortoise crawling. He and these people were no longer on the same level of martial arts.

"If you continue to be so stubborn and commit further murders, don't blame me for stopping the fighting with force!" Su Qingxuan's expression turned serious, his whole body exuding a scholarly aura, his inner strength faintly radiating outwards. A righteous and peaceful yet unassailable aura spread out, making the hearts of the disciples from both factions sink, and the weapons in their hands trembled slightly.

Although Zhou Kun and Zhao Xiong were astonished by the young man's martial arts skills, they were blinded by hatred and unwilling to give up. Zhou Kun shouted sharply, "Attack together! Kill this meddlesome brat first!"

Before he finished speaking, several disciples of the Green Bamboo Gang drew their swords and charged forward, their sword shadows intertwining as they aimed straight for Su Qingxuan's vital points.

Su Qingxuan sighed softly, his feet shifting slightly. Still without any set moves, his figure moved with ghostly speed, effortlessly weaving through the sword shadows. The tips of the swords couldn't even touch the hem of his clothes. He raised his hand and clapped his hands lightly. With each strike, a disciple was sent flying by the internal force, their weapon slipping from their grasp, screaming as they fell to the ground. In the blink of an eye, several skilled members of the Green Bamboo Gang were all on the ground, incapacitated.

Seeing this, the burly men from the Crimson Tiger Hall charged forward fearlessly, axes in hand. Su Qingxuan frowned slightly, and with a gentle yet powerful flick of his left hand, a surge of internal energy erupted, instantly sending the axe flying. The blade embedded itself in the stone, trembling violently. The burly man felt a tightness in his chest, as if struck by a heavy hammer, and was sent flying backward, crashing into a stone pillar at the bridgehead, where he lost consciousness.

Zhou Kun was both shocked and furious. Holding his Qinggang sword, he channeled all his inner strength and thrust it towards Su Qingxuan's heart. The sword was imbued with twenty years of his internal energy, and its sword aura was sharp and fierce. But in Su Qingxuan's eyes, this strike was still ridiculously slow. He flicked his finger, and his fingertip landed squarely on the spine of the sword.

"clang--"

A crisp clang of metal clashing echoed throughout Cold Stone Town. Zhou Kun felt an immense force travel through the sword, causing his hand to split open and bleed profusely. The steel sword flew from his grasp and pierced the clouds. He himself staggered back several steps, his face deathly pale, his inner energy churning, and he nearly coughed up a mouthful of blood.

Seeing this, Zhao Xiong knew that this young man was not someone he could afford to offend, but with his brothers in the gang watching, he was in a difficult position and had no choice but to bite the bullet, pick up the remaining axe soldiers, and charge again.

Unwilling to take any more lives, Su Qingxuan suddenly unleashed his inner strength, and a powerful wave of energy emanated from him, causing a sudden gust of wind to rise. The disciples of both sects were thrown about, their clothes fluttering, and their weapons fell to the ground. They were all blasted back several feet by the energy wave, and no one dared to step forward again.

"I never intended to use force to suppress others, but you have all been obstinate and committed heinous crimes. Today, I will stop the fighting with force. Anyone who dares to lay a hand on me again will face my wrath!"

The young man's voice was cold and clear, carrying an undeniable authority. The disciples from both sects were already terrified by his terrifying internal strength and speed, collapsing to the ground, no longer daring to make the slightest move. Zhou Kun and Zhao Xiong were ashen-faced, knowing that if they did not obey today, they would likely perish here.

The fighting ceased, but the blood-soaked ground and the wounded lying on the floor remained a horrifying sight. Su Qingxuan looked around and suddenly noticed a four- or five-year-old child in a corner of the crowd, dressed in tattered clothes, kneeling beside two cold corpses, crying his heart out. The child's parents, both disciples of the Green Bamboo Gang, had just died at the hands of the Crimson Tiger Hall's axe, and now they were helpless orphans, shivering in the cold wind, their cries heartbreaking.

Su Qingxuan's heart sank. He quickly stepped forward, took off his thin cloak, and draped it over the child, gently comforting him. But the child's cries continued, and that desperate look was deeply etched into his heart. At this moment, the members of the Green Bamboo Gang and the Crimson Tiger Hall had lost the will to fight and retreated.

"Dong, dong, dong." The drum had already struck three times, but Su Qingxuan still couldn't sleep all night. He sat alone by the window of the inn, gazing at the cold moon of early winter, his heart filled with mixed feelings.

He used to believe that compassion and benevolence could save the world and bring peace to the people, but what he saw today was the bloodshed and wickedness of the martial world. Compassion alone could not resolve the conflict and would only increase casualties. The cries of the orphan and the blood on the ground told him that kindness alone was far from enough.

The tattered Confucian manual in his arms gleamed with a cool, white light under the moonlight, and a sense of "order" and "discipline" quietly entered his mind. Confucianism establishes order through rites and governs the country through laws. Only with order can heaven and earth function continuously; only with discipline can war be stopped and the people at peace. Without rules and order, compassion becomes weakness, and benevolence becomes empty talk.

He recalled the stubbornness of the two faction leaders today, and the so-called chivalrous vendettas of the martial arts world. He had a vague feeling that this vendetta was not as simple as it seemed on the surface. He had also inquired about it today. Although the Green Bamboo Gang and the Red Tiger Hall had old grudges, they had never fought such a large-scale battle in the town before. There must be something hidden behind it.

The next morning at dawn, after settling the orphans, Su Qingxuan began his investigation, both overt and covert, traversing the taverns, inns, and mountain outposts of Hanshi Town. With the meticulousness of Confucian conduct, the keen observation of Confucian law, and the clarity of Confucian heart, he sought the truth behind the vendetta. He possessed profound inner strength and keen hearing and eyesight, able to clearly hear whispers several feet away. In just one day, he uncovered a crucial clue.

It turns out that in Black Wind Ridge, near Hanshi Town, there was an even more ferocious bandit gang—Black Wind Stronghold. The stronghold leader, Black Demon Lord, was ruthless and ambitious, and had always wanted to swallow up Green Bamboo Gang and Red Tiger Hall to dominate the Huai-Si road.

The Black Demon Lord devised a treacherous scheme, secretly contacting Zhou Kun and Zhao Xiong separately. He feigned an alliance with the Green Bamboo Gang, promising to help them wipe out the Crimson Tiger Hall; at the same time, he secretly colluded with the Crimson Tiger Hall, promising to help them eliminate the Green Bamboo Gang. The leaders of both factions, blinded by greed, believed they had found powerful allies and deeply trusted Black Wind Stronghold, growing increasingly hostile towards each other.

Then, the Black Fiend Demon Lord laid an ambush, secretly sending assassins to kill Zhou Kun and Zhao Xiong's confidants, disguising the bodies as the other side's doing to escalate the conflict. Finally, he orchestrated a large-scale battle between the two factions at the Cold Stone Bridge, while he watched from the sidelines, waiting for both factions to be severely weakened before leading the Black Wind Stronghold disciples out of the mountains to swallow both factions in one fell swoop and strengthen his own power.

Even more insidious was the fact that the Black Demon Lord had already arranged for spies to spread rumors among the two factions. Once the leader died, the blame would be placed on the other side, causing the disciples of the two factions to form an irreconcilable blood feud and kill each other, so that Black Wind Stronghold could reap the benefits.

After uncovering the truth, Su Qingxuan was furious and immediately decided to expose the Black Wind Stronghold's conspiracy in public to resolve the conflict between the two factions.

He gathered the remaining disciples of the Green Bamboo Gang and the Crimson Tiger Hall, and also invited the town's elders and merchants to gather at the Cold Stone Bridge. Upon learning the news, the Black Fiend Demon Lord assumed that the two factions had completely turned against each other, and immediately led the Black Wind Stronghold disciples down the mountain, intending to take the opportunity to incorporate both factions, but unexpectedly, he stumbled right into Su Qingxuan's scheme.

"Gentlemen, today's feud between the Green Bamboo Gang and the Crimson Tiger Hall is not a personal grudge, but a conspiracy by the Black Wind Stronghold!"

Su Qingxuan stood at the bridgehead and presented the evidence he had found to the public—the secret letter from the Black Wind Stronghold spy, the unique weapon used in the assassination, and the bribed witness testimonies—revealing the Black Demon Lord's vicious plot to everyone in its entirety.

Upon hearing this, Zhou Kun and Zhao Xiong were both shocked and furious. Looking at the evidence in their hands, they suddenly realized that they had been fools, pawns of the Black Wind Stronghold, and had needlessly caused the deaths of countless disciples. The disciples of both factions were even more ashamed, filled with remorse as they looked at the blood on the ground.

Seeing his plot exposed, the Black Demon Lord flew into a rage and roared, "You brat, how dare you ruin my grand plan! Today I will slaughter you and the remnants of these two factions!"

Having said that, he took a ghost-headed knife and led the Black Wind Bandits to attack Su Qingxuan.

The Black Demon Lord possessed evil skills and had cultivated them for decades. His internal strength was considered top-notch in the martial arts world. His Ghost Head Saber was fierce and wicked, aiming straight for Su Qingxuan's head.

Su Qingxuan remained calm. He knew that compassion alone was useless against evil; he needed to intimidate with force and establish order with wisdom. With a thought, he unleashed his full inner strength, his figure flashing so fast that only a green shadow remained. Everyone only saw a blur before Su Qingxuan appeared in front of the Black Fiend Demon Lord.

The Black Demon Lord suddenly felt his vision vanish, his sword strike missed its mark, and he was greatly alarmed. Before he could react, Su Qingxuan's palm was already gently placed on his chest.

This palm strike, without any particular move or style, contained the immense power of heaven and earth. The Black Demon Lord felt an irresistible surge of internal energy into his body, instantly shattering his evil arts. His meridians were broken, he coughed up blood, flew backward, and crashed heavily to the ground, his martial arts completely destroyed.

The remaining Black Wind Stronghold bandits, seeing this, were terrified and turned to flee. Su Qingxuan raised his hand and waved it lightly, his inner energy forming a net that trapped all the bandits, who fell to the ground and were captured without exception.

Thus, Black Wind Stronghold's conspiracy was completely foiled, the bandits were wiped out, and Cold Stone Town returned to peace.

The disciples of the Green Bamboo Gang and the Crimson Tiger Hall looked at each other, all hatred gone, filled with shame. Zhou Kun and Zhao Xiong bowed deeply to Su Qingxuan, their voices sincere: "Thank you for your guidance, young master. We were confused for a moment, committing murder unjustly. From this day forward, our Green Bamboo Gang (Crimson Tiger Hall) is willing to cease hostilities, help each other, and never fight again!"

The two factions resolved their enmity, became allies, and worked together to protect Coldstone Town, comfort the wounded, bury the dead, and adopt orphans. Coldstone Town finally returned to its former peace.

Su Qingxuan stood at the head of the cold stone bridge, watching the dispersing crowd, lost in thought.

He gradually realized that compassion and benevolence alone are far from enough to save the world and bring peace to the people. Confucian scholars must establish order through propriety; even Daoists, in cultivating their minds, must use wisdom to overcome deceit; and Buddhists, in seeking enlightenment, must use force to protect goodness. Only by using wisdom to see through conspiracies, force to deter evil, and rules to build order can we truly stop war, bring peace to the people, and protect all living beings.

Compassion is the bone, wisdom is the vein, and order is the framework; only when these three are united can one be a true practitioner.

With his mind at ease, he packed his bags, bid farewell to the people of Hanshi Town, and once again embarked on his journey to Qingxu Temple on Langya Mountain. The north wind of early winter was still biting, but the young man's heart grew more resolute, and his Daoist aspirations became clearer.

It is:

Hatred and enmity are all based on cunning schemes; benevolence and righteousness can thwart treacherous plots.

Only then did I realize that saving the world is not just about doing good, but also about establishing clear rules for the nine provinces.