Chapter 104: Martial Arts 2.0 Version, The Era of Disciples Begins

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"Master, here is your evening meal."

In the evening, the young monk brought food to the old monk. It was all vegetarian fare—tofu mixed with scallions, baby greens, a bowl of steamed white rice, and a bowl of mushroom soup.

Yet there was one thing that clearly did not belong to the temple's provisions.

It was two pieces of rice cake.

The old monk looked at them, then turned his gaze to the young monk and smiled. "Why do you bring me rice cakes?"

The young monk, embarrassed, pressed his palms together and bowed before speaking. "I made a mistake today, but I already know I was wrong. I just hope the Master won't speak of it to anyone."

The old monk chuckled. "Since you know you were wrong, then why is that book still hidden beneath your pillow?"

The young monk: ???

"You may take these rice cakes back. I will not speak of your affair. You are still young, and you have a choice. If the Buddha is not in your heart, then a temple is but a cage; if the Buddha is in your heart, then wine, lust, wealth, and anger can hardly move you." The old monk smiled.

The young monk's eyes widened. "Hypocrite! I don't believe that when you were my age, your thoughts never ran wild. Maybe back then you never had the chance to see anything, but if it were today, you'd be exactly the same as me."

The old monk laughed. "I won't deny it. Disciples of the Buddha never speak falsely. But what you've done is not bad—done is done, and you neither deceive others nor your own heart."

The young monk said, "That's for certain. I just don't want people gossiping because of this. If I weren't in a temple, I wouldn't be afraid. But I've grown up in Golden Light Temple, and if I leave here, I'll have nowhere to go. I don't want to leave."

The old monk smiled. "Then if I gave you the ability to change your fate, what would you do?"

The young monk said, "I'd go into the mortal world—drink wine, eat meat, and play with women. The Buddha says all four elements are empty, but if you've never experienced them, how can you treat what is real as empty? That's a paradox. Before the Buddha attained enlightenment, wasn't he a prince? I refuse to believe that prince never experienced those things."

"Your thinking is ambitious, but the mortal world is poison. Without a profound understanding of the Dharma, it is difficult to let wine and meat pass through the guts while the Buddha remains in the heart." The old monk continued.

The young monk laughed. "Why must the Buddha remain in the heart? Does the Buddhist path also have its ranks and classes? I revere the Buddha because he attained enlightenment before us and is a guide. But to make the Buddha my faith—that I cannot do. I want to be my own Buddha and walk my own path. Only that is the true pursuit of Buddhism. Otherwise, what difference is there from the secular world?"

The old monk looked at the young monk for a moment, then smiled. "You are quite unconventional. But precisely because of that, you are also quite interesting. If I were to teach you martial arts, would you be willing to accept?"

The young monk was stunned, then said excitedly, "Really? I'm willing."

"Very well, I will set one rule. If you can accept it, I will teach you the martial way."

"Master, please speak."

"Do not force anything."

"That's it?"

"Yes, that's all. If you can agree, I will teach you. But if you ever break the rule in the future, I will take back your martial arts." The old monk said seriously.

The young monk was silent for a moment, then said, "This rule of yours seems simple, but in truth it's very difficult. Still, it suits me well. I agree."

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The old monk smiled and pointed a finger. A beam of golden light shot into the young monk's face.

The next moment, information surged into his mind.

Buddha's Palm!

The Indestructible Vajra Body.

Crossing the River on a Reed.

These are...

The young monk's eyes flew wide open, his face filled with disbelief.

And in his eyes, the old monk slowly faded away, vanishing from sight.

In that instant, the young monk understood. One of the videos he had seen on his phone—that great Buddhist master who had stopped a runaway bus with a single palm—had been this very man before him.

A realization struck his heart, and the young monk hurriedly called out, "Master, what is your Dharma name?"

"Your master's Dharma name is... Fat Cat."

The young monk: ???

How am I supposed to show off with a name like that in the future?

Beyond China, Zhang Kai had not neglected the world abroad either. He had made arrangements there as well.

Take Japan, for example.

A mountain shrine.

In Japan, shrines are so common—just like ordinary houses, scattered everywhere.

Originally, the shrine's keeper was a girl named Meiji Kanako, only fifteen years old, a high school student who had just taken over from her deceased father not long ago. She hadn't yet figured out how to revive the shrine and start earning money to support herself when her household suddenly gained another mouth to feed.

This was a middle-aged man dressed in ancient attire, with disheveled long hair and a slovenly appearance, fond of drinking. When Meiji Kanako was bullied by a few punks, this man—stumbling about as if drunk—had effortlessly knocked out the whole gang, saving Meiji Kanako.

Before she quite knew how it happened, the middle-aged man had moved into her home, becoming the second person in the household.

Over the past few days, even though she had come to accept the man's presence and even felt a quiet joy at having someone else around, Meiji Kanako was now angrily demanding that the middle-aged man go out and find work—because she could no longer afford to keep him.

This guy ate too much and, worse, loved to drink, never skipping a single meal. How could a junior high school student possibly support such a grown man? Her savings were almost gone.

Shwoosh!

At that moment, the middle-aged man tossed out a poster.

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"Go join the competition. There's prize money."

Meiji Kanako picked it up and looked—her face instantly darkened.

It was a martial arts tournament hosted by Japan, divided into two categories: adult mode and youth mode.

The tournament spanned the entire country, from city level to regional level to national level. The top ten at every tier received substantial cash prizes.

There were only ten days left before it started.

"Are you afraid I won't die fast enough? I've never trained in martial arts in my life. How could I possibly compete? Uncle, you've gone too far!" Meiji Kanako shouted.

The middle-aged man tilted his head back, revealing his dashing little mustache, and grinned. "You don't know how? I'll teach you."

Meiji Kanako was momentarily captivated by that smile, then flushed and said, "I don't want to! The Celestial Dynasty has an old saying: clutching at Buddha's feet at the last moment is useless."

The middle-aged man said nothing. He reached out and pulled out a wooden sword.

"No problem. Look, this is one of the three moves of the Newbie Invincible Sword Technique—Black Blade Pierces the Heart."

As he spoke, the middle-aged man spun his body, his figure twisting impossibly in midair. The wooden sword in his hand lashed forward like lightning. Whoosh! A vase more than four or five meters away burst with a hole through its side, while the vase itself remained perfectly still.

Meiji Kanako was struck dumb.

"How about it? A three-move crash course, guaranteed to get you into the national tournament." The middle-aged man flicked his hair back with flair, revealing a charming smile.

But Meiji Kanako clutched her chest, her lips trembling:

"Uncle... do you have any idea? That was an Edo-period vase passed down from my grandfather—the shrine's most valuable antique. A merchant once offered three million yen for it, and my father still refused to sell."

The middle-aged man: ???

"Uncle, you owe me three million yen. So tell me, how about the adult mode?" Meiji Kanako looked at the middle-aged man.

Adult... mode?

Looking at Meiji Kanako's flat, board-like figure, the middle-aged man felt rather reluctant.

There was no helping it—the "adult mode" of little Japan was far too deeply ingrained in people's minds. The mere mention of it sent one's thoughts wandering astray.

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