Chapter 30: Delayed Departure

The sun set, and in the blink of an eye, darkness fell; it was the second watch of the night. Li Miao scaled the courtyard wall, entered the Shaolin Monastery, and headed toward the place he had agreed to meet Yongjie.

Before long, he entered a small courtyard. Yongjie was standing there, head bowed, his shoulders slumped.

"Master," Li Miao greeted.

Yongjie looked up, his eyes bloodshot, tear tracks still wet on his face. Seeing Li Miao, he managed a strained smile: "My Lord."

Li Miao looked him over and asked, "Has something befallen Master Xingchi?"

"My master is gravely injured and has only three days of life remaining," Yongjie replied.

"Is that so... my condolences."

Li Miao sighed inwardly. Xingchi was one of the few people in this martial arts world for whom he held genuine respect. He had always intended to pay him a visit once his official duties were cleared. Who would have thought that this first meeting would also be the last.

"My Lord, I have asked my master. He says that since he is... dying, he does not wish to sleep, and would much rather talk to someone. I told him how you saved the people of Tai’an City, and he insisted on meeting you. I shall take you to him now," said Yongjie.

Li Miao cupped his hands: "I am obliged."

Yongjie nodded and led Li Miao deep into the monastery. Upon arriving at a small courtyard, Yongjie knocked on the door: "Master, Magistrate Li is here."

A hearty voice, belonging to an old man, rang out from within, laughing: "Come in quickly! I’ve been waiting until I grew sleepy!"

Yongjie pushed the gate open to reveal a bamboo mat laid out under a tree in the courtyard. An old monk sat cross-legged upon it, cradling a little girl. The child held the monk’s beard in one hand and her own thumb in her mouth; she was already too sleepy to keep her eyes open as the monk gently patted her back.

Looking at the old monk, he had hair like a crane’s feathers and the complexion of a child, with eyebrows over a foot long draping over his shoulders. His posture was casual—one leg bent, one leg extended—and he wore only his undergarments, having draped his kasaya over the little girl. He looked at Li Miao with a smile, possessing none of the solemn aura of a high monk, but rather resembling a cheerful grandfather coaxing his granddaughter to sleep.

Yongjie stepped forward quickly, took the little girl into his arms, and apologized to the monk: "Master, Ling’er is bothering you again. I will surely—"

"Bah!" The old monk waved a hand. "Yongjie, you are talking nonsense again. You are my disciple, and Ling’er is my grand-disciple. What is 'bothering' about a grandfather putting his granddaughter to sleep? If you speak such distant words again, don't think I won't smack you just because I’m dying!"

Li Miao could not help but raise an eyebrow. He knew full well that this old monk was the Abbot of Shaolin, Xingchi. Yet, seeing his demeanor and hearing his speech, he was far removed from the image of the high monk he had imagined. However, Li Miao could clearly sense the monk’s rock-solid sinews and bones—the "Vajra" state.

Although Li Miao could see that his heart pulse was damaged and his body riddled with hidden wounds—confirming that he indeed had only three days to live—he could also see that the "Vajra" on this old monk was stronger than the "perfected" Vajra he had encountered at Mount Tai. This was even more illogical than when Li Miao had discarded "Vajra" to cultivate "Sumeru." What was perfection? It was a state where one more bit would be excess, and one less would be insufficient. Perfection was not about having more than others; it was about being "just right." Li Miao had been absolutely certain that there was no path beyond perfection. It seemed this was the deep foundation of Shaolin, and the reason Xingchi had survived under Ji Tianrui.

Li Miao stepped forward and bowed: "Junior Li Miao pays his respects to Master Xingchi."

The old monk laughed heartily: "Magistrate Li, greetings!"

"I heard from my foolish disciple that you performed a great act of kindness in Tai’an City! Saving a life is better than building a seven-storied pagoda; with your merit, it is the monk who should be paying respects to you!"

With that, Xingchi actually stood up and bowed to Li Miao. Li Miao quickly stepped forward to support the monk’s arms: "Master, there is no need for such formalities. I am a government official, and I only did what was my duty." He feared it would shorten his own life to have a ninety-year-old enlightened monk bowing to him.

"Hahaha, then this monk will not stand on ceremony. Please, sit, Magistrate Li!" Xingchi did not insist; he winked at Li Miao and invited him to sit. "I never expected that before I died, I would be able to speak with a hero such as yourself. I can die content now!" He had no intention of avoiding the subject of death, speaking with a bright, open laugh. "Whatever you wish to ask, Magistrate Li, just say it! This monk will tell you everything he knows!"

Li Miao knew that Xingchi was at the end of his rope and had little time, so he did not wish to delay him long. Moreover, he had to meet Zhu Zai later, so he went straight to the point.

"Master, was it Ji Tianrui who wounded you to this extent?"

This was the one thing he had never managed to figure out. When the Imperial Guard executed Ji Tianrui in the Miao borderlands, they had gone in full force, led personally by Zhu Zai. Yun Zelin had been able to fake his death and escape because he was a nobody back then who never drew the attention of the Guard. But for a figure like Ji Tianrui, how could the Guard have failed to verify his remains? If he hadn't died that day, why would the Imperial Guard have let it go?

As expected, Xingchi said calmly: "He claimed to be Ji Tianrui. He was similar in stature, stronger in martial arts, and also the leader of the Ming Cult. But whether he was the one from back then, even this monk cannot be sure. After all, like you, Magistrate Li, he is in the realm of 'Three Returning to One,' yet I do not know how he avoided the 'Five Decays of Heaven.' My own cultivation only reached the peak. Relying on the legacy of my predecessors and sacrificing my lifespan, I was barely able to trade a few blows with him. I have no strength left to investigate further."

So, Xingchi had also seen through Li Miao’s realm at a glance. Those who reached beyond the peak were all walking to the end of their own paths. Those who cultivated "Vajra" could see another’s bones; those who cultivated "Sumeru" could see another’s true energy; those who cultivated "Kshana" could see another’s techniques and heart-methods. Xingchi’s martial arts were originally only at the peak, but he had forcibly pushed his realm higher using the secret methods of Shaolin. The fact that he only had three days left was not just due to the injuries from fighting Ji Tianrui, but largely the price of that method.

Li Miao continued: "What was the purpose of that man calling himself Ji Tianrui in attacking Shaolin?"

Xingchi said nonchalantly: "The Yijin Jing, the Xisui Jing, and the Great Return Pill. I could only do my best to protect my disciples; those three items were taken by that Ji Tianrui."

Before Li Miao could speak, Yongjie jumped up in shock: "What!? This... how can this be!?"

"Why the panic!" Xingchi snapped. "In heaven and on earth, only the 'Self' is supreme; all external things are emptiness. Where has your study of the Dharma gone? Sit down, don't wake Ling’er."

Unexpectedly, while Yongjie’s movement had not woken the girl, Xingchi’s sharp voice startled her, and she immediately began to cry. Xingchi hurriedly stood up, took the child, and gently patted her back, soothing her for a long time until she fell back to sleep.

He lowered his voice and turned to Yongjie: "They are but mere external things; if they are gone, so be it. The scriptures can be rewritten, and the pills can be refined again. Remember, the foundation of our Shaolin is not martial arts, but the Dharma and the human heart. 'The dojo of emptiness is built moment by moment; if even one person remains un-saved, do not flee yourself.' The dojo is built to save the world; it can be built, and it can be let go. As long as people are alive, what do those objects matter? If you are obsessed with external things, you are following a deviant path. Do not call yourself my disciple in the future!"