The Shaolin Abbot Born in the 1980s

Chapter 31: The Abbot’s Scheme

Upon hearing of the divine miracle at the Dharma King Temple, some at the Shaolin Temple couldn’t help but feel unsettled. This was especially true for the newly arrived lay disciples; a major reason they’d chosen to join Shaolin was precisely because they’d heard of the temple’s miracles—a sacred place blessed by the Buddha. Before these miracles appeared at Shaolin, it was nothing more than an obscure little sect—hardly anyone had even heard of it. Dharma King Temple, however, was different. Its abbot, Dharma King Likong, was a master at the mid-Houtian level, and it was said he was expected to reach the late Houtian level within three years. Even the temple’s head monk, Master Li Xuan, was on the verge of entering the mid-Houtian level. With two such masters in command and dozens of monks under their guidance, the Dharma King Temple had previously enjoyed considerable renown. Within the Shaoshi Mountain range, only the Zhongyue Sect could outrank them—the Shaolin Temple certainly wasn’t in the same league. It was only because of the miraculous events at Shaolin that the temple had gained fame. Moreover, when they arrived this morning, they even witnessed a massive Shaolin Mountain Gate rising from the ground—an event that further solidified their confidence. But now that a miraculous event had suddenly occurred at Dharma King Temple as well, some people began to harbor different thoughts. Huo Yuanzhen took note of every one of these people’s expressions, but he gave nothing away. With only seven or eight days left until the eighth day of the seventh month, everything would become clear in due time. Apart from a few lay disciples, the majority of the others looked resolute. Even Guan Shanyue, who had only recently joined the monastery, said, “Abbot, what miracles? Do you think miracles are as common as cabbages—something you can just get anywhere? I’ve seen our Shaolin’s miracles with my own eyes—it’s the only time in my life I’ve ever witnessed such things. Aside from our Shaolin’s miracles, all the rest are fake. That damn Dharma King Temple—back then, this old monk…”Back then, This Humble Monk went there hoping to find something imbued with the Buddha’s nature, but that old monk Li Kong fobbed me off with a pile of junk. If it weren’t for the fact that it was a Buddhist temple, I would’ve torn that ramshackle place down back then!” After speaking, he turned to look at Huo Yuanzhen: “Abbot, as soon as you give the order, this disciple will head straight to Dharma King Temple and burn that ramshackle temple to the ground. Let’s see who dares to come to Shaolin seeking revenge!” This Humble Monk Yuanzhen shook his head: “Yichen, do not act rashly. This Humble Monk, too, knows that their so-called miracle is a sham, but that’s all right—this is also an opportunity.” “An opportunity? What opportunity? Abbot, they’ve performed a miracle—won’t people flock to them then? As far as I’m concerned, let me go…” “No need to say more. I understand your intentions, but I have my own plans for this matter.” Huo Yuanzhen waved his hand to interrupt Yichun, then continued, “Tell me about yourself. What martial arts skills can you teach the disciples of our temple?” Guan Shanyue thought for a moment and said, “Abbot, my greatest skill is with the sword—the Five Tigers Gate-Severing Sword Technique. However, this sword style is extremely powerful and designed specifically for killing; it might not be suitable for our Shaolin disciples to learn.” “Is there anything else?” “There’s also my staff technique—it’s quite good, though it falls a notch short of my sword technique. And then there’s my lightness skills… I used to think my lightness skills were excellent, but after witnessing the Abbot’s prowess, I realized I’d been looking at the world through a narrow perspective.” “My lightness technique is called ‘Crossing the River on a Single Reed.’ ” Huo Yuanzhen also boasted a bit about himself; he wanted to give everyone the impression that he was profoundly mysterious right now, so that if he learned any new skills in the future, they wouldn’t be surprised. After all, now that he’d earned a reputation for being able to communicate with the Buddha, it wouldn’t be strange for him to know a few tricks. “Crossing the River on a Single Reed! Good heavens!” While others might not recognize its value, Guan Shanyue certainly did. He naturally knew that “Crossing the River on a Single Reed” was an extremely profound form of lightness kung fu; there were very few techniques in the martial arts world that could be compared to it. Moreover, “Crossing the River on a Single Reed” had another advantage: it represented Buddhism. After all, it was Patriarch Damo who originally created this technique. He hadn’t cared about it before, but now things were different. As a Shaolin disciple, he truly represented the prestige of Buddhism, and since the Abbot himself knew this skill, it would be a real shame not to learn it. Noticing the look of anticipation in Guan Shanyue’s eyes, Huo Yuanzhen thought for a moment, then simply took out the manual for “Crossing the River on a Single Reed” and handed it to Guan Shanyue, saying, ““In our temple, aside from This Humble Monk, the martial arts proficiency of the others is generally quite low. In the past, even when I brought out *Crossing the River on a Single Reed*, no one could master it. Now that you’re here, I’ll pass it on to you. I hope that in the future, you’ll make the temple your home and protect our shared Shaolin Temple.” Overwhelmed with emotion, Guan Shanyue accepted this supreme manual—his hands trembling—and dropped to his knees with a thud, repeating, “Disciple Shaolin Yichen thanks the Abbot for his great kindness. In the future, I will surely lay down my life for Shaolin.” Huo Yuanzhen accepted his deep bow with a calm expression; over the past day, the old man had been kneeling at the slightest provocation, and he’d grown somewhat accustomed to it. “Very well. Since that is the case, you should devote yourself to your training. Remember this: if you ever commit any wrongdoing in the future, I, the Abbot, will, on behalf of the Shaolin Patriarchs, strip you of your martial arts skills and expel you from the monastery!” “This disciple will remember it well!” “Rise. From now on, there’s no need to call yourself a disciple. We’re all part of the ‘Yi’ generation; from now on, those of the ‘Yi’ generation may simply address me as Senior Brother Abbot.” Huo Yuanzhen simply took the liberty of assigning the seniority ranks: he officially became the eldest senior brother, with Yichen as the second, Yikong as the third, and Yijing bringing up the rear. Yikong had originally intended to argue a few points, but the Shaolin of today was not the Shaolin of the past. The Abbot’s word was law, and his prestige was unmatched; arguing with him would be futile and only make him look foolish. Yi Chen had effectively become the Abbot’s lackey, and Yijing was used to being the junior disciple—dropping from third to fourth didn’t bother him much. The only one truly aggrieved was himself: demoted from senior disciple to third disciple, and who knows if his rank might fall even further in the future. Yet he could only swallow his bitterness in silence, unable to voice his grievances. Fortunately, Yikong also held the Abbot in high regard. He felt a little slighted, but with a bit of patience, it would pass, and he didn’t let it weigh on his mind. Seeing that no one had any objections, Huo Yuanzhen then said to these lay disciples, ““Among yourselves, rank according to the order in which you joined the monastery: Huang Feihong as the eldest senior disciple, Iron Ox as the second, and Su Can as the third. Remember this well: among fellow disciples, you must strictly avoid fighting one another and engaging in scheming. If This Humble Monk discovers any such behavior, you will all be expelled from the monastery and have your martial arts skills stripped. Those who commit grave offenses—no matter how far you flee to the ends of the earth—This Humble Monk will track you down and bring you back to Shaolin to face justice!” “Yes! We will strictly follow the Abbot’s teachings!” The lay disciples answered in unison, though the voices of a few were not quite as resolute—specifically those whose expressions had changed upon hearing of the miraculous events at Dharma King Temple. “Very well, go perform your morning chanting. Huang Feihong, go copy the Heart Sutra five times as punishment. You are not to be late again.” “Yes, Abbot.” Huang Feihong hung his head dejectedly; though he wanted to argue, he ultimately didn’t dare. Although Huang Feihong had been late because he’d been trying to find out about the Dharma King Temple, Huo Yuanzhen still decided to follow the rules—after all, without rules, there can be no order. Once he drew the secret manual on leg techniques in the future, he would definitely rename it “Foshan Shadowless Kick” and make it Huang Feihong’s signature move, thereby making it up to him. Everyone went about their business, and Huo Yuanzhen returned to the temple alone. He took out paper and a brush, thought for a moment, and began sketching on the paper. Although Huo Yuanzhen had graduated from college, he hadn’t been much of a student; on the other hand, he was actually quite good at drawing. Although he wasn’t used to using a brush, he’d been in this world for over a month by then and had basically mastered the technique, so he quickly sketched out a few drawings. After finishing his paintings, Huo Yuanzhen stepped outside to take a look. Morning practice had just ended, and the students were getting ready to follow Guan Shanyue for martial arts training. Huo Yuanzhen called out from a distance, “Yichen, come here for a moment.” Guan Shanyue hurried over. “Abbot, what are your instructions?” “After today’s martial arts practice, go out and find someone to make a few statues based on these drawings.” Guan Shanyue curiously took the drawings and glanced at them, his face involuntarily taking on a puzzled expression. He asked the Abbot, “Abbot, what is this?” Huo Yuanzhen whispered a few words into Guan Shanyue’s ear. A strange smile involuntarily spread across Guan Shanyue’s weathered face, and he exclaimed repeatedly, “Abbot, that’s brilliant! Your disciple is in awe. This is going to be quite entertaining.” “Go now, and remember not to mention this to anyone.” Guan Shanyue nodded in agreement, still smiling as he ran back; not even when a miracle from the Buddha had occurred had he been this happy. After Guan Shanyue left, Huo Yuanzhen sat down alone, mulling over the plans for the Dharma King Temple fair. The temple fair was actually a grand event to promote the sect. In his previous life, the dates for these fairs varied—some were held in the first lunar month, some in the third, and some in the fourth; they took place almost every month, with different customs in each region. The Dharma King Temple had set the date for its fair on the eighth day of the seventh month; with the added draw of a divine miracle, it was sure to be a huge hit. However, Huo Yuanzhen already had a plan to deal with the Dharma King Temple, so he put that aside for the moment. What he was considering was whether his own Shaolin Temple should also hold a temple fair at some point. During the temple fair, the monastery could take the opportunity to raise a substantial amount of money. In his previous life, he had encountered some wealthy patrons who donated tens or even hundreds of thousands—and in some cases, tens of millions. Moreover, those temples didn’t actually have any divine miracles, whereas his own Shaolin Temple did—and such miracles would become a regular occurrence there in the future. With this advantage, if the temple still failed to become a sensation, Huo Yuanzhen might as well go bang his head against a wall. After giving it some thought, he realized there was quite a lot needed for a temple fair. First of all, there were far too few buildings at present. Although there was the mountain gate, the Ten Thousand Buddhas Pagoda, the dining hall, and the living quarters, it didn’t look anything like a proper monastery. At the very least, there need to be some Buddhist halls where guests can burn incense. Moreover, there was an urgent shortage of Buddhist ritual implements, as well as sutras. Finally, there were far too few monks. He had placed too much emphasis on recruiting Martial Monks, but one must understand that the foundation of a monastery should consist of many ordinary monks capable of preaching the sutras and performing religious rites; Martial Monks are merely the temple’s security force, and there aren’t many opportunities to call upon them in everyday life. Of course, once the Shaolin Temple is stable in the future and I set out to build the greatest sect under heaven, the strength of the Martial Monks will truly come to the fore. For now, however, perhaps I should recruit some ordinary monks, train them, and strive to hold a temple fair as soon as possible. That way, the debt owed to the moneylenders will be a mere trifle.