With Countless Qualities Bestowed Upon Me, I Shall Ultimately Become Immortal-Chapter 586 - 538: Fist Settles Zen Mountain, the Fat Monk’s Provocation Technique!
The two stopped exchanging Zen insights and focused on their journey.
Saying too much of this stuff is annoying, it’s mystical...
...
Jue Ming and Meng Chuan walked side by side, passing by the Celestial King Hall.
The little monk noticed two tall and sturdy figures outside the hall door and pursed his lips:
"Brother Meng, do you know who these two are?"
Hearing the sound, he looked with his eyes.
Sensing was restrained to avoid unnecessary trouble.
About a hundred meters away, Meng Chuan’s eyesight was quite good; he saw two people from the side.
That skin color, that big beard!
Those eyes and nose!
A dark version of Wudang Jack...
Seeing this, Meng Chuan was a little surprised and asked quietly:
"Jue Ming, does your Shaolin have international exchange students?
Do foreigners understand Buddhist teachings?"
Buddhist teachings are profound, and their doctrines are obscure.
By comparison, it’s much harder to learn than Taoist doctrines.
Even Meng Chuan, a local, finds it tough, let alone foreigners.
Moreover.
Everyone knows that the language of the black guys is incomprehensible...
Jue Ming was speechless, knowing he couldn’t see clearly because of the distance.
Explained:
"...Brother Meng, these two are guests from the Western Regions who traveled far to our temple.
In person, you mustn’t say that."
"Oh... I understand."
Meng Chuan realized they were his people.
The Western Regions are indeed an important part of Great Chu’s territory.
But, it’s just far from the Central Plains and the coast.
The body refinement ointment he used earlier came from here.
Although Western Region men are dark-skinned, they produce exotic beauties.
This land has countless beauties like Reba Naza...
And previously, the Western Region small beard supplying the Demon Summoning Hall.
Don’t know if he defected or reincarnated early...
The little monk lowered his voice further, leaning over Meng Chuan’s ear:
"Among them, the one with slightly yellow skin is one of the only sons of the two Great Saints of the Western Regions.
Named Third Prince Fan Luo, very illustrious."
Meng Chuan raised an eyebrow, nodding secretly.
Looks like a top-tier second-generation martial artist in the world.
Parents are all Martial Arts Great Saints, only this Fan Luo stands out.
"Yesterday he visited the Martial Monks Institute, you weren’t there, teacher introduced us.
That person has grand arrangements, the guard beside him is not only a Martial Arts Grandmaster but also a Grandmaster practicing both internally and externally!"
The black guy is a four-limit Grandmaster?
Meng Chuan said:
"He’s of noble birth, a child of two Saints, having a strong bodyguard while traveling is normal.
Perhaps on him are protective artifacts given by the Great Saints, having a bodyguard to make those with ill intentions wary, less trouble."
As for the Martial Arts Grandmaster, willing to stoop to being a guard is no exception.
This Fan Luo’s parents are Great Saints, giving some benefits casually might tempt even those with no foundation.
As for six-limit Celestial King, he finds it impossible for someone willing to do servant work.
In any top Martial Arts University, they could be the head of the institution.
If they want to enter politics, they’d hold high positions.
Guarding in four regions or being a key department head, not lacking any benefits.
Thinking of this, he saw the little monk beside him lower his head, kicked the pebble by his foot, and suddenly sighed deeply:
"Brother Meng, same people, different fates..."
After speaking, he left first.
The little monk’s mood darkened.
Thinking of himself, without parents, entered Shaolin at the age of five.
Comparing himself to others, he felt a bit uncomfortable.
He saw the little monk’s thoughts, walked ahead and patted his shoulder, comforting:
"I remember the Wuchang Sutra said: In all things, transformations occur; destiny is self-made, appearances are mind-born. Little master, look beyond."
The little monk paused, nodded, then walked a little lighter:
"Brother Meng is right, I’ve gotten attached."
With this martial arts talent, it’s already a one in ten thousand, what more to ask?
Meng Chuan walked ahead, voice drifting:
"If the heart doesn’t move, everything doesn’t move; if the heart doesn’t change, everything doesn’t change.
Birth status is something out of your control, why worry about it."
This sentence is also his recently realized "Martial Arts Buddhist Doctrine."
Expediting efforts within one’s reach, practicing what can be changed, this is the core of uniting heart and power. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮
That is, the true usage of intention!
Jue Ming chewed repeatedly and only realized when he saw the newly built martial monk institute appear in sight.
He put his hands together, deeply bowed:
"Thank you, Brother Meng, I understand now."
...
Walked into the martial monk institute.
The newly completed martial arts training ground.
Meng Chuan also came for the first time, observing changes around.
Compared to before, it looks no different.
Only...
He slightly used five percent strength and stomped his foot.
Dust scattered, aura dispersed.
Everything returned to normal, yet the ground didn’t change at all.
He understood.
This training ground’s structure must have added some special materials to be so solid.
Most of the United University’s billions must have been spent here...
In the distance, he saw the white-robed old monk starting to teach disciples.
His name is Shi Nan, a Martial Arts Grandmaster, titled [Fist Calming Zen Mountain], and also an elder of Shaolin’s Shi generation.
Entrusted by Venerable Shi, to take over Hui Yuan’s position.
Originally a leisurely elder in the "internal affairs" department, idle as he was, he agreed.
The old monk, holding a戒棍, paced around the arena, tapping occasionally.
Seeing a disciple’s incorrect movements, he skillfully applied a hint of Gang Qi as a correction.
He dragged his tone in disappointment, wishing for the iron to become steel:
"Amitabha—— you stubborn monks, stone monks! How many years have you practiced Arhat Fist?"
A disciple, just hit by the staff, pursed his lips and said:
"Disciple has been in Shaolin for nearly twenty years now."
Thwack!
A staff swung over, adding another red mark to the back.
"You’ve learned Expand Hand Wide Fist, practiced for twenty years, yet you can’t match that foreign Meng Chuan, who learned for less than two months?"
Thwack!
Before he finished speaking, another staff hit down.
The disciple jolted, grimacing in pain:
"Hiss... Elder, why hit me again with the staff?"
"Amitabha, the other monks don’t speak, but you talk too much! Go back and practice Silent Meditation more to cure that talkative habit."
"..."
The shouts of fists and feet echoed loudly, with the white mist of sweat and the smoke of Qi Blood mingling together.
Meng Chuan and Jue Ming walked into the depths of the training ground, first going to meet the big fat monk Liao Chen.
Hearing the old monk’s words, they couldn’t help but laugh silently.
"Greetings, Master. I’m here to audit the class again."
The old monk in white robes glanced at him, his face changing faster than flipping through a calendar.
"Here you are, learning Equal King Fist today? This fist skill of mine is definitely indisputable at Shaolin."
Venerable Shi did not care about any idle gossip about little demons.
To him, Meng Chuan understood the rules, had comprehension, and liked Arhat Fist.
That is a good student!
Plus, the bald head brought a sense of familiarity, often mistakenly recognized as his own disciple.
"He just lacks something on top of his head. If I add a戒疤, it would be even better..."
Meng Chuan was unaware of his intentions.
He only noticed the other person’s gaze, feeling slightly uneasy...
He smiled with clasped hands:
"Master, you teach, I’ll just audit. Not practicing True Skill Arhat Fist yet; building a solid foundation with Arhat Method is the priority."
When the Long-Brow Fist breaks the limit, and still can’t summon the Eighteen Arhats.
At that time, decide whether to practice True Skill Arhat Fist again or choose another method.
Listening to these words, the old monk paused, turning to blow his beard and glare at everyone:
"Amitabha! You troublesome monks, listen to what others say.
Each of you is impatient, just thinking to learn seventy-two supreme skills, Secret Techniques, ambition higher than the sky!"
Seeing himself used to teach other disciples, Meng Chuan, though used to it, still smiled bitterly and clasped hands apologizing to everyone.
Beside him, the little monk Jue Ming listened to the old monk’s words, quickly shrank his head, hiding behind Meng Chuan.
The little monk wanted to learn the [Seven Kill to Break Evil and Cross Hardships] every day, the old monk was in a bad mood, better to avoid him...
Meng Chuan shook his head with a laugh, walking ahead, his figure expanding, shielding the little fellow Jue Ming.
They’re pals.
Seeing the fat monk punching from afar, every punch and palm movement had Dragon Form airflow, seemingly showing an advancement in cultivation technique.
Since coming up the mountain, in about two months, the two had sparred no less than ten times.
So at this moment, Meng Chuan could perceive some of the other’s skills.
Not having sparred for two weeks, he had also made significant improvements.
Upon seeing Liao Chen, he naturally felt itchy to spar.
"Fat monk, come and spar a bit."
Familiar with Liao Chen, there’s no need for formal address usually.
Eagerly he walked over, inviting Liao Chen for a match.
Yesterday’s observation revealed over 210 star holes illuminated in his body.
Total Qi and Blood Value exceeded twenty-five thousand points.
Another challenge to this big fat monk to see if he can win.
Upon hearing that, Liao Chen stood at ease, he too was itching.
Aware of Meng Chuan’s strong prowess, although not yet the Three-Limit Master, his strength remains formidable.
Especially, this fellow can transform.
If the body size reaches over ten meters, it will be hard to defeat him.
With his round fat face, eyes turning, then laughing with clasped hands:
"Donor Meng, you can spar, but remember to enlarge your body beforehand.
The little monk’s fist skill has recently advanced, concerned the donor might react slow and get hurt, which would be unfortunate."
Meng Chuan waved his hand:
"No need to transform, you and I both spar normally, Master Liao Chen need not worry for me."
"Amitabha, but..."
"Once the rule is set, it can’t be withdrawn, let’s leave it at that."
"So be it..."
Fat monk lowered his brows to conceal, actually feeling thrilled inside.
Meng Chuan agreed to not transform, that makes this sparring worthwhile...
A provocation!
He naturally knew the other’s cunning idea, with a slight smile.
This fat monk appears simple but is indeed quite clever.
If unfamiliar, one might be fooled by his appearance.
His agreement on this condition was because he was confident in himself.
Fat monk’s Qi Blood Value, same as his, doubled over fifty thousand.
With such Qi Blood value now, it no longer forms oppression for him.
Whether he can win, the spar will reveal.
If danger arises, then liberation is an option.
He’s not foolish...
Meng Chuan stomped his foot again, crushing a few grains of sand:
"Fat monk, are you sure the training ground can withstand it if we spar here?"
Both are masters proficient in Intention, when hands move, the effect isn’t small.
Liao Chen smiled slyly...
"Of course, the new training ground is built solid.
To prevent the donor’s prior havoc repeating, the defense uses only the best materials."
Meng Chuan nodded awkwardly, then gestured with clasped hands to the surrounding disciples.
Witnessing this, they helped clear out a large space.
"These two are sparring again."
The monks’ eyes brightened.
