Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils: The Successor of Bodhidharma

Page 25

Jinzha was speechless for a moment, his handsome face fell, and he said awkwardly, "This... I didn't mean to..."

Upon hearing this, Qiao Tian was both amused and annoyed. He glared at Jinzha and said, "I knew it!" Then he looked at Huang Shang, his eyes filled with even more affection. "Huang Shang is so thoughtful. The Daoist Canon is the foundation of Wudang and cannot be lost."

Huang Shang nodded slightly in response, and his gaze returned to its detached calm, as if the "complaint" was just a casual remark.

At this moment, Yao Yao and Jin Zha also noticed Qiao Feng behind Qiao Tian. They were stunned for a moment, then their faces showed extreme shock!

"Junior Yaoyao (Jinzha) greets Chief Qiao!" The two hurriedly stepped forward to pay their respects.

Qiao Tian smiled and corrected him, "What Chief Qiao? This is my younger brother, Qiao Feng. You should call him Martial Uncle."

"Ah?!" Yao Yao and Jin Zha exclaimed in surprise at the same time. Jin Zha even shouted out in surprise: "Holy crap! The world-renowned Qiao Feng is actually our sect leader's younger brother?! This... these two brothers are too... amazing!" His gaze towards Qiao Feng instantly changed from admiration for the heroes of the martial arts world to amazement and closeness towards "family".

Even Huang Shang, who had been standing quietly to the side, turned his gaze to Qiao Feng again, examined him carefully for a moment, and then looked at Qiao Tian, ​​clasped his hands in a salute and said softly: "A dragon's bearing and a phoenix's grace, a natural talent. Powerful and vigorous, in harmony with the Great Dao. Congratulations, Master, on the reunion of brothers."

Qiao Feng also found these nephews, each with their own distinct style, interesting, especially Huang Shang's unconventional nature, which made him take a second look. He clasped his hands in return and said, "Nephew Huang, you flatter me."

Qiao Tian was in a great mood and said to his three disciples, "Alright, you can go ahead and do your work. I'll take Chief Qiao to pay respects to our master and parents."

Qiao Tian led Qiao Feng and Xie Xiaoyu straight to Tingsong Pavilion on the back mountain to pay respects to their master and senior master.

Wu Yazi and Wu Xingyun had already sensed their arrival. Wu Yazi, with an air of composure, smiled as he looked at the group entering. Wu Xingyun remained as aloof and beautiful as ever, her red robes like fire. Upon seeing Qiao Tian, ​​she first snorted coldly, "So you know how to come back?" But as her gaze swept over Qiao Tian, ​​sensing his increasingly unfathomable aura, a barely perceptible hint of satisfaction flickered deep in her eyes. Then, her gaze fell upon Qiao Feng.

Qiao Feng stepped forward and bowed respectfully: "Junior Qiao Feng pays respects to Senior Wu Yazi and Senior Wu Xingyun!"

Wu Yazi stroked his beard and smiled, nodding repeatedly: "Good, good! With a dignified and majestic demeanor, and a restrained brilliance, he walks with the stride of a dragon and the gait of a tiger. He truly deserves to be Tian'er's younger brother, and is indeed a dragon among men!" He felt the vast and mighty aura within Qiao Feng, which also contained the transformation between strength and gentleness, and he secretly praised him in his heart.

Although Wu Xingyun didn't speak, her scrutinizing gaze lingered on Qiao Feng for a moment before she gave a barely perceptible nod. This young man, with his imposing presence, solid foundation, and righteous, unyielding eyes, is indeed a fine man no less than the heavens! she thought to herself.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, Qiao Tian led the impatient Qiao Feng toward the quiet courtyard where his parents lived.

Before even getting close, you can hear Mrs. Qiao's kind voice: "Eat slowly, eat slowly, there's enough for everyone..." In the small courtyard, Mrs. Qiao is feeding several little monkeys that are gathered around her feet, staring at her expectantly. The leader is a macaque named "Little Black," which is munching on the grain while its sly eyes dart around, clearly plotting its next "gang scam."

When Qiao's mother looked up by chance, she immediately saw Qiao Tian and Qiao Feng walking side by side.

The feed bowl in her hand fell to the ground with a "clatter," scattering grain all over the floor. She froze, her eyes fixed on Qiao Feng, her lips trembling violently, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

The next moment, the longing and concern that had accumulated for more than ten years burst forth like a flood breaking through a dam!

"Feng'er! My Feng'er—!" Qiao's mother let out a heart-wrenching cry, staggered forward, and embraced the tall and robust Qiao Feng, bursting into tears that instantly soaked his clothes. In her cries, there was the ecstatic joy of finding him again, the heartache of worrying day and night, and above all, a mother's deepest and most unconditional love for her son.

Qiao Feng, this tough man, was shaken to his core by his mother's sudden outburst of grief, his fierce eyes instantly turning red. With a thud, he knelt upright before his mother, tightly embracing her frail body, his voice choked with emotion and filled with endless guilt: "Mother! Mother! Your unfilial son... has returned!"

Qiao Tian stood aside, watching his mother and younger brother embrace and weep, and watching his father, Qiao Sanhuai, who rushed out of the house upon hearing the commotion, his eyes also red-rimmed. Finally, the warmest and most relieved smile of his trip appeared on his face.

Home is ultimately the final destination for wanderers. No matter if they are the founders of a powerful family business or the leaders of a formidable gang, here they are simply children in their parents' eyes who need care and concern.

Chapter 79 Kumārajīva's Buddha Palm Saves People

In a remote border town, at the same inn.

A month has quietly passed. In the corner of the inn, before that familiar table, a sumptuous feast of meat and wine is laid out—braised beef, pig's head, tender roast chicken, and a jar of clearly expensive wine. The mad beggar is eating with gusto, his mouth greasy and his appetite overflowing. The Tibetan National Preceptor, Kumārajīva, stands awkwardly and uncomfortably to the side, like a servant, a stark contrast to his magnificent robes and dignified demeanor.

"Little Zhi," the mad beggar let out a loud burp, patted the table with his greasy hands, and mumbled, "Don't just stand there like an idiot, come on, pour some wine for our ancestor!"

Upon hearing this, Kumārajīva's handsome face instantly contorted, a flash of anger crossing his eyes! When had he, the dignified National Preceptor of Tibet, ever been treated like a servant, bossed around like this? His fists clenched, almost bursting with rage. But remembering how he had always granted this beggar's requests for the past month, he forcibly suppressed his anger. He took a deep breath, striving to remain calm, stepped forward, picked up the wine jar, and filled the beggar's empty bowl, saying in a dry voice, "Senior, please have some."

The mad beggar seemed completely oblivious to his displeasure, picked up a large bowl of noodles, and slurped them up loudly, splashing soup everywhere.

Just then, the light dimmed at the entrance of the inn, and six people walked in.

The leader, dressed in a light yellow robe with a long sword at his waist, was handsome and elegant—none other than Murong Fu of Gusu. Beside him were three women: one, dressed in a light crimson gauze robe, about sixteen or seventeen years old, with a mischievous and spirited air, was Abi; another, dressed in a lotus-colored gauze robe, slender, with long hair flowing down her back and gently tied with a silver ribbon, had a beautiful face and bright, lively eyes—this was Azhu; and the third, a girl in white, pure and ethereal, seemingly untouched by worldly concerns, whose mere presence silenced the bustling inn—this was Wang Yuyan, deeply in love with her cousin Murong Fu. In addition, two middle-aged men with unusual appearances followed closely behind: one tall and thin with a cold face, was Feng Bo'e; the other short and stout with a comical face, naturally Bao Butong.

Rumors have been circulating in the martial arts world lately, claiming that several renowned figures have died under the Murong family's signature technique, "Shifting Stars." To uncover the truth, clear his name, and also to find the possible mastermind behind it all, Murong Fu, along with his retainers and cousin, sets out to investigate. Wang Yuyan, who usually lives secluded in Mantuo Manor, was persuaded by Azhu and Abi, and also because of her longing for her cousin, to join the investigation, hoping to soothe her soul.

The group found an empty table and sat down, with Azhu and Abi obediently serving tea. Murong Fu, with his elegant demeanor and composed manner, appeared to be a refined and elegant gentleman, attracting the attention of many people in the inn.

Just then, Kumārajīva at the next table seemed to reach his limit. He abruptly turned around, no longer able to bear watching the mad beggar's eating, his face filled with barely suppressed shame and indignation. His voice rose eight octaves as he questioned, "Senior! This humble monk respects you as a senior, providing you with food and drink for over a month, serving you with utmost care! But those mantras you imparted to me, upon careful consideration, are nothing more than passages of common Buddhist scriptures! You...you are not taking advantage of this humble monk's kind heart and curiosity, deliberately playing a trick on me?!"

The mad beggar, having slurped up the last mouthful of noodles, patted his belly contentedly and picked his teeth, saying, "My dear grandson, don't be impatient, don't be impatient! Buddhist principles are martial principles, and martial principles are Buddhist principles. Just one final, crucial point is needed for you to fully grasp it and have a sudden enlightenment!"

Kumārajīva looked incredulous and was about to continue arguing when he saw the mad beggar suddenly scratch his dirty feet, frowning as he muttered to himself, "Oh dear, I haven't washed my feet in days, and my toes are really itchy. Little Zhi, hurry up, don't just stand there, come over and scratch your ancestor's itch."

"Pfft!" Hearing this, A'Zhu and Wang Yuyan at the next table couldn't help but laugh out loud when they saw Kumārajīva's solemn appearance and the way he was about to do such a thing. They quickly covered their mouths.

Kumārajīva felt a surge of heat rush to his head, and his whole body trembled with rage! This was an utter disgrace! It was even more unbearable than being defeated!

Seeing that he didn't move, the mad beggar urged again, "What? Little Zhi doesn't want to serve his ancestors anymore? Fine, then we'll part ways today. You go your way, and I'll go mine!" With that, he made a move to get up and leave.

Kumārajīva was in a panic! His "investment" of the past month was about to go down the drain, and he hadn't even gotten the final "finishing touch" yet. How could he accept this? He gritted his teeth, suppressing his overwhelming sense of humiliation, and squeezed out a sentence through gritted teeth: "Senior, please wait!" After saying that, he actually walked up to the mad beggar, flicked his monk's robe sleeves, squatted down, turned his head away, pinched his nose tightly with one hand, and with the other hand trembling, reached out to the mad beggar's dark feet and began to scratch them with great difficulty!

"Hahaha!" The mad beggar laughed triumphantly, drinking his wine with great relish.

Murong Fu and his entourage stared in disbelief, then broke into suppressed laughter. Bao Butong, shaking his head, quoted a historical anecdote and exclaimed, "Wonderful! In ancient times, a high monk cut off his own flesh to feed an eagle; now, a foreign monk condescends to scratch his feet! Truly a 'good story' in our Buddhist tradition! No, no, it's not a good story, it's a strange tale, a truly strange tale! Hahaha!"

His merciless mockery was like adding fuel to the fire!

Kumārajīva, already filled with shame and indignation, could no longer contain himself! He abruptly stood up, disregarding his feet and incantations, and pointed at Bao Butong and Murong Fu's group, roaring, "You cowards, how dare you mock our national teacher?! Today I'll show you what it means for even the Buddha to be angry, and for Vajra to subdue demons!" He desperately needed an outlet to vent his anger and wash away the pent-up resentment and humiliation in his heart!

Before he finished speaking, Kumārajīva moved like a red cloud towards Bao Butong, and struck out with a palm. The palm wind was fierce, and it was the Prajna Palm that was released in anger!

When Bao Butong and Feng Bo'e saw the monk attacking, although they sensed his extraordinary aura, they were not afraid and attacked at the same time! Bao Butong's palm technique was tricky and focused on the lower body; Feng Bo'e's fists and feet were fierce and aimed straight at the middle!

However, Kumārajīva attacked in anger, and his palm strike was incredibly powerful. The moment the two made contact, they felt a surge of great force and were forced to retreat repeatedly, their blood and qi churning!

"Brother Bao, Brother Feng, be careful!" Wang Yuyan's clear and cold voice rang out in time. "This monk is using the Shaolin Prajna Palm. His palm force is fierce and powerful, and he is using a combination of feints and real attacks! He is lowering his left ribs and using his Qi to move through the 'Heavenly Stream.' His next move will definitely be the 'Vajra Tail-Pulling' attack on Brother Bao's lower body, while at the same time, his right palm will be used to launch a 'Welcoming Buddha to the Western Paradise' attack on Brother Feng's face!"

Upon hearing this, Murong Fu's eyes flashed with a sharp light. His longsword was drawn with a clang, his figure graceful as an immortal, the sword flashing, aimed directly at the subtle flaw revealed by Wang Yuyan's pointing out! He praised, "Cousin, you have excellent eyesight!"

With Wang Yuyan's guidance, Bao Butong and Feng Bo'e quickly changed their tactics. The three of them cooperated well and managed to stabilize Kumārajīva's offensive slightly.

The mad beggar watched with great interest, especially finding Wang Yuyan's incredibly precise martial arts guidance fascinating. Seeing that Kumārajīva was unable to break through his defenses and was instead becoming impatient, he was caught off guard by Murong Fu, who used exquisite swordsmanship to slash a gash in his monk's robe and then kicked him. Although he was not injured, he was in a much more disheveled state.

Kumārajīva was both anxious and angry, and seeing that he was about to lose face in front of his "enemy" again, he couldn't help but cast a pleading look at him.

The mad beggar chuckled, took a swig of wine, and slowly said, "My dear grandson, listen up. Your ancestor will teach you the last sentence: 'All phenomena are empty of inherent existence, neither arising nor ceasing, neither defiled nor pure, neither increasing nor decreasing.'"

While struggling to fend off the increasingly fierce attacks of Murong Fu and the other two, Kumārajīva kept this mantra running through his mind.

He asked urgently: What does this mean?

"Just chant the truth and beat them!" the mad beggar said nonchalantly.

Kumārajīva rolled his eyes at this idea, but stopped thinking about it!

With a sudden shout, Kumārajīva stood still, facing Murong Fu's thrusting sword, Bao Butong's palm striking his ribs, and Feng Bo'e's kick aimed at his knee, he neither dodged nor evaded!

He slowly raised his palms, his movements becoming incredibly solemn and fluid. His aura suddenly changed, no longer the previous agitation and fierceness, but becoming ethereal and harmonious, as if he had merged with the surrounding world!

He chanted aloud, his voice booming like a bell, perfectly synchronized with his palm techniques:

"All phenomena are empty of inherent existence!"—With a flick of his palm, Murong Fu's sharp sword tip seemed to pierce into nothingness, its force deflected and dissipated!

"Neither born nor destroyed!"—With a circle of his left palm, Bao Butong's palm force vanished without a trace, like a mud ox sinking into the sea!

"Neither defiled nor pure!"—With a gentle flick of his right palm, Feng Bo'e's fierce kick was deflected by a supple force, as if it had struck empty air!

"Neither increase nor decrease!"—With both palms out, a powerful yet balanced palm force erupted, not directed at any one person, but like an invisible wall, pushing outwards in all directions!

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Murong Fu, Bao Butong, and Feng Bo'e felt an irresistible force surge towards them. Their weapons almost slipped from their hands, and they lost their footing. They were all jolted back seven or eight steps by the incredibly powerful palm wind, knocking over tables and chairs behind them before barely coming to a stop! Their faces were ashen, their chests heaving, and their eyes were filled with horror and disbelief!

How did this bald monk's palm technique suddenly become so powerful?! It's as if he's been reborn!

Having forced the three back with a single move, Kumārajīva felt a surge of exhilaration. All the pent-up frustration and humiliation he had endured for the past month seemed to pour out with that one palm strike! He withdrew his palm and stood up. Although his monk's robe was somewhat torn, his aura had reached its peak. His eyes swept over the disheveled Murong Fu and his group with disdain. He could no longer suppress his arrogance and triumph, and he laughed loudly:

"Hahaha! You frogs in a well, today I will show you the true Dharma of Buddhism!"

He was full of pride and felt that although the world was vast, there were probably not many people who could withstand his Prajna Palm at this moment!

Murong Fu's face turned ashen. He was proud of his literary and martial talents, and to be so humiliated by a Tibetan monk in front of his cousin was an utter disgrace! Wang Yuyan also paled.

The only sounds in the entire inn were Kumārajīva's arrogant laughter and the mad beggar continuing to gulp down his drink in the corner.

Chapter 80: Time flies

Inside the inn, the atmosphere became tense due to Kumārajīva's arrogant laughter.

Murong Fu's face turned ashen. He had carried the heavy responsibility of "restoring the Great Yan" since childhood, and was renowned throughout the martial world as "Southern Murong." He had never suffered such humiliation, especially in front of his beloved cousin, Wang Yuyan! He suppressed his anger, pointing his longsword diagonally, attempting to intimidate the other with his status, his voice icy: "Master, I am Murong Fu of Gusu! Perhaps there has been some misunderstanding today. I beg you, for the sake of the Murong family, to let this matter rest?"

It would have been better if he hadn't mentioned the Murong family; the mere mention of it only fueled Kumārajīva's excitement. He sneered, "Bah! What Murong of the South and Qiao Feng of the North! It's nothing but empty titles used by the Central Plains martial arts world to flatter each other and elevate their own status! This humble monk has come east this time to punch Murong of the South and Qiao Feng of the North, and kick Shaolin and Wudang! Today, I'll start with you, 'Murong of the South'!" He was smug and self-satisfied, believing that his unparalleled martial arts (under the guidance of the mad beggar) were the perfect opportunity to trample on these famous figures of the Central Plains and make a name for himself!

The mad beggar in the corner, while gnawing on a freshly braised pork knuckle, chuckled indistinctly, "Hehe, Xiao Zhi has ambition! He has guts! Your ancestors have high hopes for you!"

Upon hearing this, Kumārajīva was energized, and turned to the mad beggar, saying with great bravado, "Senior, please wait a moment! After I deal with these ungrateful fellows, I will take you on a tour of the Central Plains and let you taste all the delicacies of the world!"

The mad beggar clapped his oily hands, grinning from ear to ear: "You're not so bad, you still have some conscience!"

Seeing that the other party completely disregarded the Murong family and even dared to boast about kicking Shaolin and Wudang, Murong Fu's last thought of reconciliation was extinguished. He felt a surge of anger rush to his head and roared, "This is too much!" Before he finished speaking, he had already unleashed his family's secret technique to its fullest extent!

His figure moved swiftly, sword light and palm shadows clashing, displaying the wondrous power of "Shifting Stars and Changing Spaces"! When Kumārajīva's fierce and powerful Prajñā palm strike came, he skillfully deflected and redirected it, sometimes counterattacking Kumārajīva, sometimes drawing it aside, using the opponent's force against them—a truly masterful technique! For a time, relying on this unparalleled method of deflecting force, he fought to a standstill with the greatly improved Kumārajīva!

What's even more troublesome is that there's also Wang Yuyan, a walking encyclopedia of martial arts, standing nearby! Her delicate brows furrowed slightly, her clear eyes fixed on the battle, and every time Kumārajīva's move was about to be unleashed, she had already predicted its subsequent changes and the direction of its force:

"Watch out! His next move is to draw your palm force to attack your right shoulder's 'Giant Bone' acupoint!"

"This palm strike combines real and feint attacks, with the real move on the left and the feint on the right, intended to lure you into using your strength!"

"He's about to change his move; it's the 'Empty to the End' technique from the Prajna Palm, where the power is concentrated in the palm, requiring a soft, sideways strike!"

Under Wang Yuyan's almost prophetic guidance, Murong Fu became increasingly adept at using "Shifting Stars and Changing Constellations." Although he could not defeat Kumārajīva, he also made it difficult for him to make any substantial progress, and the battle became deadlocked for a time.

Kumārajīva, unable to gain the upper hand and with his moves repeatedly exposed by Wang Yuyan, grew increasingly anxious. He suddenly remembered the mad beggar, grasping at him like a lifeline. While desperately striking out with his palms, he shouted at the mad beggar, "Senior! Senior! This Prajna Palm is indeed wondrous, but this fellow's 'Shifting Stars' technique is too slippery! Could... could you bestow upon me another scripture to help this humble monk break through his defenses?!"

The mad beggar, who was happily gnawing on a pork knuckle, looked up at the words, his greasy face showing surprise, and said, "Kid, are you kidding me? Fighting while memorizing scriptures? You can remember them all?"

Kumārajīva said urgently, "Senior, please read it! This humble monk has had a photographic memory since childhood and is extremely knowledgeable! I will definitely reward you handsomely afterward!" At this moment, he didn't care about the cost; he only wanted to defeat Murong Fu immediately and save face.

The mad monk's eyes darted around, he chuckled, took a swig of wine, cleared his throat, and actually began to chant. His voice wasn't loud, but it clearly reached the ears of Kumārajīva, who was engaged in fierce combat:

"When Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva was practicing the profound Prajnaparamita, he perceived that the five aggregates are all empty, and thus transcended all suffering and distress. Shariputra, form is not different from emptiness, emptiness is not different from form; form is emptiness, emptiness is form..." He was reciting the Heart Sutra! But between the intonation and pauses, there was a hidden method of cultivating energy and the essence of a very profound finger technique, which corresponds to the supreme secret of the Formless Finger, a finger technique among the seventy-two Shaolin arts known for its "emptiness, spirituality, illusion, and transformation"!

While fiercely battling Murong Fu, Kumārajīva concentrated on memorizing the profound scriptures and hidden methods of circulating qi, rapidly deducing them in his mind. He was already exceptionally talented and well-versed in Buddhism; now, by comparing the scriptures with the finger techniques and mental incantations, many things that had previously been unclear suddenly became clear!

Before long, his eyes flashed with a sharp light, and he let out a long howl that shook the roof tiles!

Suddenly, his palm technique changed. His right hand continued to use the Prajna Palm to block Murong Fu's attack, but his left hand formed a halberd shape with his fingers together, and he loudly chanted, "Shariputra, all dharmas are empty of inherent existence..."

A sudden gust of wind arose! Silent and traceless! As if coming from nothingness, it pierced through the layers of energy laid out by Murong Fu's "Shifting Stars" technique, heading straight for his vital point in the chest! This finger strike contained the true meaning of "emptiness," ignoring appearances and pointing directly to the essence!

Murong Fu was shocked! His "Shifting Stars" technique was good at transferring tangible forces, but when faced with this seemingly nonexistent yet omnipresent "empty" finger force, he felt a sense of frustration, unable to find a point of leverage or transfer the force! He hurriedly withdrew his sword to defend and retreated swiftly, barely managing to avoid this strange finger strike!

However, Kumārajīva, having gained the upper hand, pressed on relentlessly, chanting scriptures incessantly while his finger techniques changed accordingly!

"Therefore, in emptiness there is no form, no sensation, no perception, no mental formations, no consciousness..." The finger force was ethereal, enveloping all the acupoints on Murong Fu's upper body!

"Without eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, or mind; without form, sound, smell, taste, touch, or dharma..." The finger wind splits, as if simultaneously attacking all the acupoints corresponding to Murong Fu's senses!

"Without vision, even without consciousness..." The meaning was ethereal, as if transcending the limitations of space, attacking Murong Fu from an incredible angle!

He perfectly integrated the scriptures he had just memorized with the mental techniques of the "Formless Finger Technique." With each recitation of the scriptures, he unleashed an exquisite finger technique imbued with Buddhist principles! His finger power was sometimes ethereal, sometimes concentrated, sometimes differentiated, and sometimes unified, perfectly embodying the meaning of "Formless"!

Murong Fu's "Shifting Stars" technique seemed utterly useless against this fundamental and unpredictable finger technique! He felt every vital point on his body enveloped by the opponent's finger winds, the force of which was sometimes real and sometimes elusive, impossible to grasp, forcing him into a flustered and disheveled state. He could only rely on his exquisite footwork to dodge repeatedly, having no power to retaliate! The idea of ​​"using their own methods against them" was utterly laughable in the face of this unheard-of and unseen Buddhist technique!

Bao Butong and Feng Bo'e wanted to step forward to help, but were forced back by a few Prajna Palms from Kumārajīva and were unable to get close to the battle!

Wang Yuyan was also shocked. Although she could recognize the general style of Buddhist finger techniques, the subtlety of its application of energy and the height of its artistic conception had exceeded her understanding. Furthermore, it was closely integrated with the profound scriptures, making it difficult for her to fully comprehend it for the time being, and she could no longer make accurate predictions and provide guidance as before.

The mad beggar watching from the side watched with great excitement, slapping the table in admiration: "Good lad! Truly remarkable! Such comprehension, such a memory! Learning on the spot and applying it to such a thorough understanding! My dear grandson, you are a genius! Hahaha!" His praise was genuine.

The other guests in the inn were already dumbfounded. Who could have imagined that this seemingly crazy beggar could casually recite a scripture and suddenly increase the monk's martial arts skills, making the famous "Southern Murong" helpless? This was simply divine!

Kumārajīva felt increasingly exhilarated as he fought, feeling as if all the pent-up emotions in his chest had been released and he was filled with boundless pride!

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away at the foot of Wudang Mountain, on the official road...

A procession of carriages and horses was moving slowly. Duan Yu sat on his horse, looking reluctant and sighing. Beside him were his uncle Duan Zhengming (Emperor Baoding) and his father Duan Zhengchun, their faces serious and filled with expectation.

"Yu'er, cheer up!" Duan Zhengchun couldn't help but scold his son, looking at his appearance. "The Wudang Sect is the pinnacle of the martial arts world today, comparable to Shaolin. Its leader, Master Qiao Tian, ​​is a god-like figure! What an incredible opportunity it is for you to receive a token from a Wudang master! How can you be so negligent!"

Duan Zhengming also said earnestly, "Yu'er, although our Dali Duan family is confined to a corner of the country, we still need to be on good terms with the martial arts giants of the Central Plains. If you can join Wudang this time, it will not only be your personal good fortune, but also a blessing for our Dali Duan family. Do not be willful."

Duan Yu said with a bitter face, "Uncle, Father, you both said that Wudang has strict rules and we have to read so many Taoist scriptures... I... I just want to enjoy the camellias and live a carefree life..."

"Nonsense!" Duan Zhengchun's mustache bristled with anger. "This is not up to you! We're almost at the mountain gate, so you better be more alert!"

Duan Yu had no choice but to hang his head and let the carriage carry him toward the misty, bell-ringing Wudang Mountain. In his heart, he lamented, wondering whether this forced "destiny" was a blessing or a curse.

At the summit of Wudang Mountain, Qiao Tian seemed to sense something, his gaze seemingly piercing through layers of clouds as he looked down at the official road below.

Chapter 81 The Scholar Huang Shang