Chapter 2: The Prodigy Li Bi

Li Zaixing had stood guard for many years in his previous life. Although he had never practiced Tantric Buddhism, he was not unfamiliar with it. Tantric Buddhism, also known as the Mantra School, is marked by the recitation of esoteric chants. Of the hundreds of monks at Prajna Temple—genuine or otherwise—only the Lazy Monk recited mantras with a voice as resonant as a great bell, bearing the closest resemblance to the Tantric tradition. Moreover, the Lazy Monk possessed the strength of an elephant, starkly different from the other monks, and more akin to the eccentric figures known for mastering Tantric techniques. Summoning his courage, Li Zaixing hazarded a guess—and to his surprise, it was correct.

"Where did you learn your Tantric skills, and why are you mingling in a Chan monastery?" Li Zaixing did not answer the Lazy Monk’s question, instead seizing control of the conversation. He had long sensed that, although the Lazy Monk was nominally his master, he never assumed the airs of one. On the contrary, he was more like a guardian. Their relationship was less that of master and disciple, and more that of lord and retainer.

The Lazy Monk glanced at Li Zaixing again, then sighed. "Who says one cannot practice Tantric methods in a Chan monastery? Chan and Tantra are, in fact, one. Chan emphasizes realization of the mind; Tantra focuses on cultivation of the body. They are of the same family. Without Tantric practice, one merely sits in withered meditation—how could one attain the dignity of the Dharma Body?" He cast a sidelong glance at Li Zaixing. "I meant to wait until your temperament settled before teaching you Zen sitting, so that you might realize life and death, transcend the cycle of rebirth, and become a free Buddha. But it seems your worldly attachments remain; all you think of is descending the mountain."

Li Zaixing let out a cackling laugh. "I can’t help it—my ties to the mortal world aren’t severed. I’m not fit to cultivate Buddhism yet. Master, let me resolve my worldly affairs, settle scores with those blind beasts, and then I’ll return to cultivate the Way with you."

The Lazy Monk sighed heavily, turning his gaze away and falling silent for a long moment. "Very well. This is your fate; no one can force another. When will you leave?"

"First thing tomorrow."

"Alright. Tonight I will impart to you the Marrow Washing Sutra. Whether you succeed or not depends on your own destiny."

Li Zaixing paused in surprise, silent for some time. "So what you taught me before was the Muscle Changing Classic?"

"You only just realized?" The Lazy Monk shot him a look, a flash of pride in his eyes. "If not for the Muscle Changing Classic combined with my Tantric empowerment, could you have cultivated a body of diamond in so short a time?"

Li Zaixing’s lips curled, but he said nothing. Inwardly, however, he was deeply shocked. Bajiquan relies on explosive force, demanding great physical strength. His body had once been frail, yet in eight years he had perfected the fierce power of Bajiquan and even approached the threshold of transforming force into softness. Perhaps it was due to those exercise routines his master taught him, which now appeared to be the legendary Muscle Changing Classic.

As he understood it, the martial prowess of the great Li Shuwen of the Bajiquan school was not only due to his diligence, but also largely attributed to his practice of the Muscle Changing and Marrow Washing classics. These arts had since become unrecognizable; though Li Zaixing had practiced versions before, they were ineffective and unlike what the Lazy Monk taught, so he’d never made the connection.

"So your strength also comes from practicing the Muscle Changing Classic?"

The Lazy Monk nodded. "I was always strong, but nothing compared to now. By the way, did you see clearly my axe technique just now?"

Li Zaixing thought for a moment. "I saw clearly."

"Good." The Lazy Monk sighed. "You have no family to speak of, nor any learning in the classics and literature. If you wish to make a living, your only hope lies in your martial skills. And since you seek revenge, no amount of martial prowess is ever enough. This is all I can do for you; after you leave the monastery tomorrow, you’ll be on your own."

Hearing this, Li Zaixing stopped beating around the bush and came straight to the point. "Then who am I really? And who wants to kill me?"

"I don’t know, either," the Lazy Monk replied as he tidied up the firewood he had just split. "I am here to protect you at someone else’s request. Later, I’ll give you a token—find your enemy yourself. I am a monk; such matters are not my concern."

"You call yourself a monk?" Li Zaixing’s nose prickled, but he refused to yield. "Haven’t you killed your share these past years?"

"All for your sake," the Lazy Monk replied, pressing his palms together. "Amitabha, how lamentable."

"So even your insults to Li Mi were for me?"

"He deserved it," the Lazy Monk said shamelessly. "I have no patience for those scholars who advance by feigning retreat, corrupting the spirit of the monastic community and treating ordination as a shortcut to officialdom. They spout righteousness and morality, but their hearts are rotten. Who else should I scold?"

Li Zaixing broke into a cold sweat. In the Lazy Monk’s eyes, even the prodigy Li Mi was so unworthy—no wonder he never showed him a good face. But then again, as harsh as the Lazy Monk’s words were, he was not entirely wrong. Li Mi’s ambition had not faded; though he wandered among temples and monasteries, his heart lingered in Chang’an, waiting for the emperor’s summons. To call him hypocritical was not entirely unjust.

Confucians are hypocrites by nature.

"If you disdain him, why not let him leave the mountain with me?"

"Fine." The Lazy Monk waved a hand, picked up his firewood, and left. Li Zaixing took the wooden staff he used as a mock spear and entered Prajna Temple through a side door. After a few turns, he reached the firewood shed where he and his master lived. Looking at the familiar surroundings, he suddenly felt reluctant to leave.

He had spent eight years here, growing from a ten-year-old child into a vigorous youth. Though his memories before ten remained fragmented, the years spent here were precious. Whether the Lazy Monk was a master or a guardian, their bond was, in truth, closer to that of father and son. On the eve of parting, hearing the Lazy Monk’s words that they might never meet again, he could not help but feel a sense of loss.

Without this wild and unrestrained old monk—no matter how many thousands there are in the world—who would truly care about me?

Li Zaixing sat for a while, then fetched a bow and arrows from the corner and stepped outside again. Archery was not his main skill, but over the years, he had become proficient enough to shoot a few rabbits without trouble. He had long since roamed every inch of the surrounding forests, knowing them as well as his own eyes. In no time, he brought down two pheasants and a rabbit.

Returning to the temple grounds, he found his master beneath a ginkgo tree, tending a fire and roasting yams with dried cow dung. The spring chill was still harsh at night in the mountains, and the Lazy Monk’s nose was running from the cold. He wiped it with his sleeve while poking the yams with a stick.

Li Zaixing tossed the pheasants and rabbit at his master’s feet. "Don’t tell me you can’t clean these."

The Lazy Monk glanced at him. "Though I’ve had to kill for your sake these years, I have long since given up eating meat myself."

Without another word, Li Zaixing undid his belt and began urinating on the yams in the fire. The Lazy Monk was startled and reached to stop him, but Li Zaixing glared. "Try me—I’ll pee all over you next." The Lazy Monk stopped at once, glowering at him.

"With how filthy you are, you’re worried about a little urine? I knew you were just pretending." Li Zaixing finished, shook himself off, tied his belt, and squatted by the fire. The Lazy Monk sighed helplessly, picked up the game, and walked off eastward. Li Zaixing smirked, thinking, As expected, Master is incorrigible—he’ll use the spring water the monks and layfolk love to wash the meat. Tomorrow, everyone will find the water especially sweet.

Just as Li Zaixing said, the Lazy Monk was not only able to prepare the game, but did so deftly. Before long, he returned with the cleaned pheasants and rabbit. He set them on the fire, and soon the aroma of roasting meat filled the air. The pair ate heartily. Sated, Li Zaixing stretched and stood. "Master, I’m heading back."

"Go ahead," the Lazy Monk replied, wiping his mouth with his filthy sleeve. Using a stick, he rolled the two yams Li Zaixing had urinated on deeper into the fire, cleared his throat, and began to chant. The chant was in Sanskrit, and Li Zaixing did not understand a word. Yet after eight years of listening and his master’s careful guidance, he had memorized every note. He hummed along as he made his way back to Prajna Temple.

The chanting grew louder, like the morning bell resonating through the mountains, echoing in every heart.

Shortly after Li Zaixing left, Li Mi arrived, half running, holding up his robes. He paused, caught his breath, folded his hands respectfully, and stood at a distance, waiting on the Lazy Monk.

The Lazy Monk did not look up, continuing his Sanskrit chant and tending the yams in the fire.

Li Mi dared not utter a sound, bowing his head and listening in silence. Only when the last note of the chant faded among the mountains did he step forward. "Master, your chant began mournful and ended joyful. Is it a sign that this exile of mine is soon to end—that I will soon return to court?"

The Lazy Monk shot him a look and spat. "Don’t try to drag me into trouble. Get lost!"

Li Mi stepped back, bowed his head, and said nothing. The Lazy Monk unleashed a tirade of insults, growing more and more cutting, but Li Mi simply listened in silence, his expression ever more respectful. When the Lazy Monk tired of cursing, he grunted. "Don’t just stand there—sit down."

Delighted, Li Mi knelt and sat properly in the most respectful manner.

The Lazy Monk raked the fire with his stick, lifted out the yams, broke one in half, keeping one piece for himself and handing the other to Li Mi. Li Mi quickly took it, though it was scalding hot, and could only hold it in his sleeve, nibbling it bit by bit until he had finished every crumb.

"Descend the mountain tomorrow. Around midday, wait by White Dragon Pool. If fate allows, you will meet your destined patron there. Now go—don’t bother me again."

Li Mi answered, waited a moment, and seeing the Lazy Monk had nothing more to say, bowed, retreated on his knees, stood, bowed again, and slipped away into the forest, returning to his temporary quarters. There was a faintly odd taste of yam in his mouth, but his heart was overflowing with inexpressible joy.

His destined benefactor was about to appear—what kind of person would it be?

New book—please recommend, bookmark, and click!