A young man born in the 1980s is unexpectedly transported to ancient times and awakens as a monk. Before he can adjust, he discovers that he has also become the abbot of a struggling monastery and has been assigned an “Abbot System” with increasingly ambitious goals. The system expects him to master difficult martial arts, rebuild Shaolin's reputation, and eventually lead the wider martial world. He would much rather live an ordinary life, but abandoning the role is not so simple. Reluctantly, he begins strengthening the monastery and discovers that leadership may demand more of him than martial skill alone.
Chapter 14: A Zen Mind, Like the Moon, Far Beyond Dust
Li Xuan stood up with great confidence. Under the gaze of the others, he smoothed out his gray monk’s robe and then recited aloud: “The remnants of the Douyi army have yet to sprout; their bodies are gathered and reburied, filling a thousand carts. The ways of Heaven know no distinction, yet I have chosen the path of perpetual fasting and reverence for the Buddha.” After reciting the four seven-character lines, he looked at the others with a smug expression. Qian Delu stroked his mustache and nodded slightly: “Hmm, not bad, not bad at all. It’s full of emotion and vivid imagery—it really draws you in. It’s truly excellent.” Beside him, Chen Dinghe and Zhao Wuji also nodded in approval, praising him repeatedly. Huo Yuanzhen watched coldly from the sidelines. The poem was passable, but it certainly couldn’t be considered a masterpiece. Qian Delu’s critique was simply “not bad,” while Chen Dinghe and Zhao Wuji’s reactions were a bit over-the-top. Still, these two weren’t completely shameless in their praise; they still had some dignity left. This put Huo Yuanzhen’s mind somewhat at ease; as long as his own poem was clearly far superior to Li Xuan’s, Chen Dinghe and Zhao Wuji surely wouldn’t be overly biased. After Li Xuan finished his poem, feeling quite pleased with himself, he shot a defiant glance at Huo Yuanzhen. It was hardly surprising. Among martial artists, how many could actually compose coherent poetry? Wielding a blade came more naturally to them than holding a pen. If it weren’t for his desire to curry favor with Zhao Wuji, the scholar, Li Xuan wouldn’t have bothered with such pretentious verse. In his view, although this young abbot, Huo Yuanzhen, had just offered a bit of guidance to Zhao Wuji, he was still far too young—it must have been a fluke. It was impossible for him to possess any real literary talent. Besides, he had stipulated that the poem must include Buddhist themes—he’d had this particular poem planned out long ago, whereas Huo Yuanzhen was composing on the spot and would most likely be unable to come up with anything. Huo Yuanzhen glanced at Li Xuan but offered no comment on his verses. Instead, he addressed the other three: “Gentlemen, then This Humble Monk will also offer my humble contribution.” “Please, Abbot.” Qian Delu spoke up to signal his consent, while Chen Dinghe and Zhao Wuji gave slight nods. Huo Yuanzhen stood up, left the banquet table, and walked toward the apricot blossoms nearby. Everyone’s gaze followed Huo Yuanzhen’s figure, eager to see what fine verses this young monk could produce. Upon reaching the apricot blossoms, Huo Yuanzhen turned and gazed at the full moon in the sky: “The moonlight is lovely tonight.” “Indeed, apricot blossoms and the full moon—savoring wine and composing poetry—is one of life’s greatest pleasures,” Qian Delu chimed in. Li Xuan shot Huo Yuanzhen a sidelong glance: “Abbot Yi Jie, don’t delay—you’d better compose your poem quickly.” Huo Yuanzhen understood his intentions—he simply didn’t want Huo to have too much time to think—but Huo Yuanzhen already had it all figured out. He smiled wryly: “Master Li Xuan, monastic life is about cultivating the mind. Being too impatient goes against Buddhist teachings and disturbs one’s state of mind.” “Hmph!” This Humble Monk snorted. “I am not in a hurry; I suspect it is the Abbot who is anxious right now.” Chen Ding also said, “Abbot, it’s very late. We’d better get started.” Huo Yuanzhen didn’t answer. He took a few more steps, his eyes fixed on the bright moon in the sky, and spoke: “The Zen mind is like the moon—utterly free from dust.” As soon as these words were spoken, the room fell silent. Zhao Wuji had just raised his wine cup to take a sip, but his hand froze mid-air, and he couldn’t help but softly repeat Huo Yuanzhen’s line to himself. After a long moment, Zhao Wuji set down his wine cup and clapped his hands enthusiastically: “Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! Although the Abbot’s verse makes no mention of Buddhism, I have already grasped the essence of its meaning.” Qian Delu raised his cup and downed it in one gulp: “What a fine poem! For this single line alone, Abbot, I’d raise a toast to the fleeting nature of life—it’s even made me, Qian, want to become a monk.” Chen Ding also nodded repeatedly, while only Li Xuan looked somewhat displeased. He spoke up: “Abbot, a single line doesn’t really count as a poem, does it?” Huo Yuanzhen continued: “The Zen mind is like the moon, utterly free of dust; the poetic spirit is like the azure sky, ever-renewing. Fine lines are woven into a tapestry of splendor; fine prose needs no adornment of rare treasures. The splendor of the Six Dynasties is washed away; the Four Histories are rewritten, distinguishing the ‘Ya’ and ‘Song’ verses. With half a pillow of pine breeze and tea not yet brewed, my heart is filled with the carefree spirit of spring!” Huo Yuanzhen recited these eight consecutive lines in one breath. When he finished, he returned to his seat, picked up his teacup, and took a gentle sip, appearing as serene as a cloud drifting in the breeze—truly embodying the demeanor of a great monk of his generation. Over on the other side, Zhao Wuji said nothing more, but raised his wine cup in a toast to Huo Yuanzhen, then drained it in one gulp. After finishing the wine, Zhao Wuji let out a sigh: “What a splendid line—‘My poetic spirit is as carefree as spring, filling my heart to the brim.’ Abbot, I have witnessed your bold ambition and lofty aspirations. If you were to return to lay life, achieving official rank would be as easy as breathing.” “This Humble Monk, Zhao Shizhu, flatters me. To a monk, fame and fortune are as fleeting as clouds. At present, I have come to seek your assistance only so that future generations of monks may have a place to call home, and so that the people of the surrounding villages may have a place to make their vows. Otherwise, I truly would not have wished to make this journey.” Even though his true motive was to expand his martial arts sect and compete for supremacy in the martial arts world, Huo Yuanzhen could frame it in such noble terms that no one could help but believe him. Sure enough, Zhao Wuji’s face lit up with admiration, and he raised his cup once more to drink a toast with Huo Yuanzhen. Over there, Li Xuan’s face alternated between pale and flushed; finally, unable to contain himself any longer, he said to Zhao Wuji and the others, “You still haven’t decided whose poem is better—mine or his.” Qian Delu shot Li Xuan a glance and said coldly, “Master Li Xuan, I’m afraid that’s not something that can be compared.” “What’s so hard about comparing them? The better one is better, and the worse one is worse.” “Master Li Xuan, if you insist on making a comparison, then all I can say is that a mere stone bears no comparison to gold and jade. To force such a comparison only shows that the person holding the stone lacks the discernment to recognize gold inlaid with jade.” “You… what did you say! No, I don’t believe a word of it. Manager Zhao, you’re a scholar—you tell me.” Zhao Wuji cast a somewhat exasperated glance at Li Xuan. “Master Li Xuan, the beauty of Abbot Yi Jie’s poetry is the finest I have ever seen in my life. Perhaps we should not make this comparison after all.” Li Xuan finally gave up hope. Originally, through Chen Dinghe’s introduction, he had been conversing with Zhao Wuji for an entire day; the two had been getting along splendidly. Upon learning that Huo Yuanzhen had arrived, he had even subtly hinted at his desire to undermine his opponent, and Zhao Wuji had tacitly agreed. He never expected that after a single poetry contest, the entire situation would be turned on its head. Over there, Chen Ding also fell silent. Although he had wanted to help Li Xuan, Abbot Yi Jie’s verses were simply too superb—he couldn’t even find an excuse to intervene. Seeing how things had turned out, Li Xuan gave up hope. He let out a cold laugh: “Fine, humph. It’s just a measly thirty thousand taels of silver, isn’t it? As long as my senior brother steps in, it’ll be a piece of cake. If you won’t lend it to me, someone else will. If this place won’t keep me, there are plenty of others that will. This monk takes his leave!” With that, Li Xuan flicked his sleeve and turned to walk out. Chen Ding opened his mouth to try to persuade him to stay, but in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to say a word. Li Xuan reached the doorway, then suddenly turned back and said to Huo Yuanzhen, “Abbot Yi Jie, do a good job of building up your Shaolin Temple. You’re throwing away heaps of silver. If one day the Shaolin Temple is wiped out, you won’t be able to repay Manager Zhao’s money.” “Amitabha Buddha, Abbot Li Xuan, there’s no need for you to worry about that. This Humble Monk will manage the temple properly. Even if the day comes when we are wiped out, it will be my fate. But I don’t think that day will ever come. Anyone who dares to harm my Shaolin Temple—This Humble Monk will personally perform a memorial service for them.” “Hmph, you’re asking for trouble!” Li Xuan had no desire to engage in further verbal sparring with Huo Yuanzhen, so he left the money house, already plotting in his mind how to deal with the Shaolin Temple in the future. Huo Yuanzhen turned to Zhao Shizhu and said, “Zhao Shizhu, you heard what Li Xuan said. If you’re worried you won’t be able to recover this sum of silver in the future, then let’s call off This Humble Monk’s proposal.” To his surprise, Zhao Wuji’s eyebrows shot up. “How can the Abbot speak such words? Though I am but a scholar, I have studied the classics since childhood and have always conducted myself with integrity. They may be men of the martial world, but I do not fear them. Abbot, I don’t think they dare do anything to you. As for this loan of fifty thousand taels of silver, I agree!” Huo Yuanzhen smiled slightly. He had long since recognized that Zhao Wuji possessed the proud spirit of a scholar; once goaded with words, he feared nothing. “Excellent, simply excellent!” Both men were straightforward and decisive. Zhao Wuji immediately summoned Huang Feihong, and the group drew up a promissory note on the spot. With Qian Delu acting as guarantor, Zhao Wuji lent Huo Yuanzhen 50,000 taels of standard silver for the construction of the monastery, to be repaid once the Shaolin Temple began generating revenue in the future. The promissory note was signed quickly, and Zhao Wuji took out a silver note for fifty thousand taels and handed it to Huo Yuanzhen. With that, Yuanzhen’s objective was achieved. With these 50,000 taels, the construction of the Shaolin Temple was no longer a problem—it was more than enough to repair the mountain paths, level the temple grounds, and build the surrounding walls. Having achieved his goal, Huo Yuanzhen did not linger and took his leave from Zhao Wuji. However, as it was already late, Zhao Wuji insisted that Huo Yuanzhen stay the night. Early the next morning, he had Huang Feihong drive a horse-drawn carriage to take Huo Yuanzhen back to the mountain. Upon returning to the foot of Shaoshi Mountain, Huang Feihong was still a bit reluctant to part ways. He said to Huo Yuanzhen, “Abbot, if I have time in the future, I’ll come back to listen to your storytelling.” Huo Yuanzhen smiled and said, “Certainly, Feihong. Not only can you come to listen to my storytelling, but you can also come to Shaolin to practice martial arts.” “Practice martial arts!” Huang Feihong’s eyes lit up, but he asked in confusion, “There don’t seem to be many monks at Shaolin. Does anyone there know martial arts?” Huo Yuanzhen looked around and spotted a slab of green stone by the roadside, about the size of two large bowls stacked on top of each other. He walked over, picked it up, and—to Huang Feihong’s astonished gaze—slammed his head into it!
