The Shaolin Abbot Born in the 1980s

Chapter 30: A Miracle at the Dharma King Temple

Seeing Guan Shanyue like this, Huo Yuanzhen felt a little embarrassed. After all, he was an elderly man—yet, having been deceived by him, he had devoutly joined the Shaolin Temple and treated him with such respect that Huo Yuanzhen found himself somewhat moved. Well then, he would grant the old man’s wish and find an opportunity to make him a formal disciple. By now, the living quarters had been largely set up. Several large dormitories could easily accommodate several hundred people, and there were also more than a dozen private rooms, which were more comfortable and would be reserved for distinguished monks in the future. Although Su Can and Iron Ox were lay disciples, they were now living directly at the Shaolin Temple. Su Can was a Beggar with no home to return to, and Iron Ox had also settled here permanently, with nowhere else to go. Additionally, during the time Huo Yuanzhen had been devoting himself to cultivation, the Shaolin Temple had admitted eight more lay disciples, though they would not be staying on the mountain every day. Huo Yuanzhen thought it over and assigned Guan Shanyue a private room; after all, he was, at the very least, the father of the Military Governor, and was on the verge of becoming an Innate-level master—he could not be treated the same as ordinary disciples. This gesture from Huo Yuanzhen moved Guan Shanyue to tears of gratitude. In fact, in Guan Shanyue’s eyes, Huo Yuanzhen was a truly extraordinary figure. He was, after all, a master at the Great Perfection stage of the Post-Heaven Realm, with few rivals even within Henan Province. Yet upon meeting this young abbot, Guan Shanyue realized there was always someone even more accomplished. First, this abbot possessed extraordinary courage; when they were at the temple gate, he remained completely unfazed by Guan Shanyue’s threats. Second, Guan Shan Yue had witnessed his lightness skills, which were truly exceptional; he estimated that fewer than twenty people in the martial arts world could surpass him in this regard. Third, the single shout he directed at him had shaken even Guan Shanyue—a master at the Perfect Realm of the Post-Heaven Stage—to the core, clearly demonstrating how deeply this abbot concealed his true abilities. Guan Shanyue surmised that the abbot was a man of compassion who generally preferred not to reveal his true strength; winning people over through virtue was likely his preferred approach. And most importantly, the abbot was actually able to communicate with the Buddha. He recalled that just as the divine miracle concluded, the abbot seemed to have said something like, “Farewell, Buddha,” or something to that effect. Good heavens! Is he on such familiar terms with the Buddha? Guan Shanyue couldn’t calm his mind for a long time. He thought to himself how fortunate he was not to have confronted the Abbot head-on; otherwise, not only would he likely not have joined the Shaolin Temple, but he might also have been given a sound thrashing by the Abbot, making a complete fool of himself. He was truly wise. By pleading earnestly, kneeling, and shaving his head—going through the whole routine—he finally moved this seemingly heartless Abbot and secured his admission to the Shaolin Temple. Guan Shanyue believed that as long as he performed well, the day he officially became a Shaolin disciple wouldn’t be far off. Once inside the Shaolin Temple, Huo Yuanzhen told Guan Shanyue where to rest, then headed toward the Ten Thousand Buddhas Pagoda, since the White Horse was still there. Seeing the abbot head toward the Ten Thousand Buddhas Pagoda, Guan Shanyue thought for a moment and decided not to return to rest. Instead, he followed behind Huo Yuanzhen, scanning his surroundings with a wary expression as he said, “Abbot, it’s late at night. I’ll protect you.” Huo Yuanzhen chuckled to himself. This old man, Guan Shanyue, was truly amusing—not only did he want to witness the pagoda’s miraculous powers without saying a word, but he also claimed he was there to protect him. However, Huo Yuanzhen paid him no mind and walked up to the front of the Ten Thousand Buddhas Pagoda, calling out to the White Horse in his mind. A flash of white light appeared, and the White Horse burst out from behind the Ten Thousand Buddhas Pagoda, galloping toward Huo Yuanzhen. The White Horse was so fast that Guan Shanyue could barely make it out in the darkness. He only sensed a flash of white light rushing toward him. Without a moment’s hesitation, he leaped in front of Huo Yuanzhen and shouted, “Who dares to attack the abbot of this temple!” But to his utter surprise, the White Horse leaped into the air and cleared Guan Shanyue’s head in a single bound. Only then did Guan Shanyue realize it was a horse—he’d assumed there was a rider on it and was just about to attack—when Huo Yuanzhen said calmly from behind him, “That’s my horse.” Sensing the power of the Lion’s Roar, Guan Shanyue’s heart sank, and he hurriedly stopped. The White Horse approached Huo Yuanzhen and affectionately nuzzled his shoulder. Huo Yuanzhen patted the White Horse and said, “Go find yourself a comfortable spot. When I need you, I’ll call for you.” The White Horse took a few small steps, its hooves making a crisp sound as it walked away. Just as it was leaving, its huge eyes cast a glance at Guan Shanyue. Guan Shanyue was dumbfounded; it took him a while to snap out of it. He said to Huo Yuanzhen, “Abbot, it… it… that horse actually glared at me!” “The White Horse was also sent to me by the Buddha in a dream. Getting just a glare from it is a break for you.” Guan Shanyue remained silent for a long time, utterly stunned. It seemed his choice had been incredibly wise—this Shaolin Temple was undoubtedly the foremost Buddhist sanctuary on earth, and this Abbot was undoubtedly the person closest to the Buddha. The next morning, as the residents of Shaolin Temple rose to eat breakfast, they noticed an elderly monk in a white robe with a salt-and-pepper Huzi standing alongside the Abbot in front of the dining hall. Hui Zhen, Yijing, and the others who had met Guan Shanyue the day before were somewhat surprised, but they said nothing; everyone sat down together to eat. During the meal, Huo Yuanzhen addressed the group: “This is your new senior monk. His Dharma name is… well, let’s just call him Yichen.” Guan Shanyue paused with his chopsticks in hand, turned to Huo Yuanzhen, and bowed respectfully, his face radiating gratitude. He knew that Hui Zhen and Huiming were also in the temple—both had entered before him—yet neither had been granted a “Yi” character by the Abbot. Currently, within Shaolin, only the Abbot, Yikong and Yijing bore “Yi” characters in their names; now that he had been added to that list, it was clear how deeply the Abbot favored him. Everyone greeted Guan Shanyue one by one, and from that day forward, Guan Shanyue was known as Yichen. After the greetings, Huo Yuanzhen continued, “From now on, Yichen will also participate in the morning and evening services. After the services, Yichen will be responsible for teaching you martial arts. Yijing, you will also train in martial arts alongside Yichen from now on.” Huo Yuanzhen then added, “Your senior brother Yichen is on the verge of entering the Xiantian realm.” Everyone was astonished, and Yijing’s face lit up with delight. He was a martial arts fanatic; his Tiger-Subduing Fist had long since reached the “minor accomplishment” stage, and he was not far from “great accomplishment.” He deeply felt that his martial arts had hit a plateau. Although he had obtained the secret manual for the Iron Head Technique, it was merely a foundational skill, not a profound martial art. Moreover, having no one to teach him was a source of great frustration. Now that Shaolin suddenly had a super-master approaching the Xiantian Realm, he was naturally overjoyed. Iron Ox and Su Can were also delighted and both bowed respectfully to Yi Chen. Su Can had been a beggar since childhood, enduring scorn from others and getting into fights, so he had some martial arts foundation; however, by Shaolin standards, his skills were among the lowest. Tie Niu, on the other hand, was a different story. Recently, Huo Yuanzhen had also realized that teaching Tie Niu was indeed a bit of a challenge for Yijing. Although Tie Niu wasn’t particularly proficient in martial arts, he possessed innate superhuman strength; if it came down to a real fight, Yijing would be no match for him. Now, with Guan Shanyue—a master of the highest caliber—on board, it is believed that this will greatly boost the Shaolin Temple’s overall martial prowess. After everyone finished eating, everyone except Huo Yuanzhen went to attend the morning practice session. For now, morning and evening training sessions are held on the first floor of the pagoda; once Huo Yuanzhen is assigned the Great Hall of the Buddha, the location will be changed. As the time for morning practice approached, the lay disciples from down the mountain began arriving one by one—eight in total, not a single one missing. But after counting them all, they realized Huang Feihong hadn’t arrived yet. Huang Feihong was usually the most diligent about coming to Shaolin and was never late—what was going on today? Just as Yikong was about to ask, Huang Feihong suddenly came running in from outside, panting heavily. As soon as he entered, Huang Feihong asked directly, “Where’s the Abbot? Where’s the Abbot?” Huo Yuanzhen had just been about to return to his practice of the “Boy’s Art” when he heard Huang Feihong’s question and walked back: “Feihong, what’s the matter?” Huang Feihong caught his breath and said to Huo Yuanzhen, “Abbot, it’s bad news—a miracle has also appeared at the Dharma King Temple!” Everyone was stunned upon hearing this. A miracle at the Dharma King Temple too? Ever since the miracle appeared at Shaolin, Buddhist devotees from all over the Shaoshi Mountain area had been flocking to the area. Many camped out at the foot of the mountain, waiting for Shaolin Temple to open so they could go to the Shaolin Ten Thousand Buddhas Pagoda to witness the miracle. Later, when the Shaolin Temple began accepting lay disciples, it pushed people’s fervor to a fever pitch. However, the prosperity of Mountain Shaolin led to the decline of another Buddhist Zen monastery on Shaoshi Mountain: Dharma King Temple. During this time, the courtyard of the Dharma King Temple was so empty that one could play catch with sparrows there; not a single pilgrim was to be seen all day long—everyone had flocked to the Shaolin Temple instead. Today, when Huang Feihong went out, he heard that a miracle had occurred at Dharma King Temple. After inquiring carefully, he learned that a blessing had also descended upon Dharma King Temple—a Great Hall of the Buddha had appeared out of thin air. They were preparing to hold a temple fair on the eighth day of the seventh lunar month to celebrate the miracle at Dharma King Temple. It was precisely because he was gathering information that Huang Feihong arrived late. Upon hearing this news, everyone exchanged puzzled glances. Huo Yuanzhen said nothing. There was no doubt in his mind that the miracle at Dharma King Temple was a hoax; it was impossible for there to be another person in the world just like him, capable of effortlessly constructing buildings with a construction token. It must have been built secretly by the people of Dharma King Temple during this time, and they were deliberately creating a stir, preparing to compete with his Shaolin Temple. Recalling the arrogant demeanor of the old monk Li Xuan from the Dharma King Temple—who had even boasted back then that he would destroy the Shaolin Temple—Huo Yuanzhen felt a surge of anger. Fine, you want to compete with me? Then bring it on! I was actually still figuring out how to deal with you, but now you’ve jumped the gun—trying to win over the public with a fake miracle. If I let you succeed, This Humble Monk would rather keep his hair. Huo Yuanzhen kept his composure, but inwardly he was quietly devising a plan.