Flower Stealing Master

Chapter 661: One Sharper Tongue Than the Other

As soon as Jiumozhi finished speaking, an eerie silence fell over the scene.

The Shaolin monks were all stunned, momentarily unsure how to react. As the towering beacon of the martial world, how many years had it been since someone dared to provoke them in such a way?

Ren Woxing opened his mouth but eventually sighed in resignation. “My dear son-in-law, I thought my tongue was already sharp enough, but compared to your senior brother, I am utterly outmatched.”

Even Zhang Sanfeng couldn’t remain seated any longer. He approached Song Qingshu and said, “Qingshu, this friend of yours…” He hesitated before sighing. “I fear our journey will not be smooth.”

Song Qingshu could only smile bitterly. “I didn’t expect him to take this approach either.”

By this time, the Shaolin monks had regained their composure and began denouncing Jiumozhi in anger. If it had been any ordinary martial sect, he would have already been drowned in a tidal wave of curses.

Fortunately, Abbot Xuan Ci maintained the composure befitting a great master. Raising his hand to quiet the monks, he slowly said, “It is true that both our Buddhist teachings and martial arts originate from Bodhidharma. According to the Grand Preceptor, these are indeed techniques from Tianzhu. However, the martial arts passed down by Bodhidharma comprise only a small portion of Shaolin’s 72 Ultimate Techniques. The majority were developed over the nearly thousand-year history of Shaolin Temple through the research and innovation of generations of eminent monks. For example, the Prajna Palm was created by Yuan Yuan, the eighth abbot of our temple. The Maha Finger was invented by a seven-fingered monk who resided here for forty years. The Vajra Fist was the result of thirty-six years of study by six high monks of the eleventh generation, all bearing the ‘Tong’ surname. These supreme techniques are all authentic Central Plains martial arts, fundamentally different from Tianzhu’s methods of using intent to guide strength and strength to generate power. Many esteemed martial artists are present; the differences are obvious at a glance, and there is no need for this old monk to elaborate further.”

His argument was well-reasoned and convincing, even earning a nod of approval from Zhang Sanfeng. With his vast knowledge, Zhang Sanfeng naturally understood that most of Shaolin’s 72 Ultimate Techniques were self-developed and bore little relation to Tianzhu martial arts.

Jiumozhi smiled slightly and said, “The abbot’s words are indeed wise, but they seem to deliberately draw a distinction between the martial arts of the Central Plains and Tianzhu. Yet, in the eyes of the Buddha, all beings are equal. Whether Central Plains or Tianzhu, these are but illusory names. Furthermore, according to the abbot, the Prajna Palm, Maha Finger, and Vajra Fist were created by Shaolin itself. However, in my early years in Tubo, I heard many Vajrayana monks describe the moves of these techniques. For instance, the Prajna Palm has a move called ‘Seamless Sky Robe,’ which in Sanskrit is ‘Avakirya,’ meaning ‘indescribable.’ This move uses a light yet substantial force in the right palm and a heavy yet empty force in the left, alternating between real and feigned attacks to deceive the opponent. Abbot, may I ask if my words are correct?”

A tinge of yellow flashed across Xuan Ci’s face as he hesitated. After a moment of contemplation, he said, “Brother Xuan Cheng, please go to the Scripture Pavilion and retrieve the scriptures that document these three techniques for our esteemed guests to examine.”
“Understood!” Xuan Cheng replied, turning and leaving the hall.

It wasn’t long before he returned, bringing the scriptures with him. The distance between the Grand Hall and the Scripture Pavilion was nearly three miles, yet Xuan Cheng retrieved the texts in mere moments—a testament to his incredible agility. While outsiders found nothing unusual about it, the Shaolin monks secretly marveled at his speed.

The three scriptures were aged, their yellowed pages tinged with black. Xuan Ci placed them on the table and said, “Everyone, please take a look. These texts explicitly describe the origins of these techniques. If you do not believe this old monk’s words, do you also suspect that the previous abbots of Shaolin, these eminent and virtuous monks, would deceive others? Or that they somehow anticipated today’s events and forged these scriptures centuries in advance to justify their claims?”

Jiumozhi feigned ignorance of the hidden implications in Xuan Ci’s words and picked up The Secret Essentials of the Maha Finger, flipping through it page by page.

Zhang Sanfeng, due to his disciple’s involvement, casually picked up The Prajna Palm Manual. However, mindful of his status, he only skimmed through the preface and postscript before returning it. As the head of another sect, he felt it improper to pry into Shaolin’s secret manuals. Moreover, given Xuan Ci’s esteemed reputation, Zhang Sanfeng trusted that his words were truthful. To scrutinize further would suggest doubt, which would be disrespectful.

Jiumozhi, on the other hand, examined the texts with utmost seriousness, slowly flipping through each page, clearly searching for inconsistencies he could use to refute Xuan Ci. The only sounds in the hall were the rustling of pages and the faint breathing of the gathered martial artists.

He finished reading The Prajna Palm Manual, then moved on to The Secret Essentials of the Maha Finger and finally The Divine Art of Vajra Fist, carefully studying each page.

The Shaolin monks closely observed Jiumozhi’s expression, eager to see if he could find any loopholes in the scriptures to fuel his argument. However, his face remained expressionless—neither pleased nor disappointed. When he finally closed the last book, he respectfully returned it to Abbot Xuan Ci, closed his eyes in deep contemplation, and remained silent. Xuan Ci found his demeanor unfathomable.

After a long while, Jiumozhi opened his eyes and said, “Abbot Xuan Ci, years ago in Tubo, a high monk of the Nyingma Sect recited the Sanskrit incantation of the Prajna Palm to me. I recall it as follows:

“Yadi dīrgharātrau asvasthaḥ, manasā calati cintayā, katham śāntim labhate?”

Every Shaolin monk who had practiced the Prajna Palm turned pale. Jiumozhi’s words were astonishingly precise, matching the core teachings of the technique word for word.

Even Xuan Cheng was taken aback. The essence of the Prajna Palm had only ever been recorded in Chinese, as generations of monks struggled to translate its profound meaning accurately into Sanskrit. Yet, Jiumozhi’s Sanskrit rendition was so refined that anyone unaware of its origins might genuinely believe the technique had originated from Tianzhu.

For a moment, even Xuan Ci was at a loss for words. However, Xuan Cheng quickly regained his composure and sneered, “Not long ago, I shared this passage with Song Qingshu, and he immediately translated it into Sanskrit, word for word identical to the Grand Preceptor’s translation. Zhang Zhenren can bear witness to this. Now that you and Song Qingshu have arrived together, one can’t help but wonder… Heh.”

Although Xuan Cheng did not finish his sentence, everyone in the hall understood his implication.

This time, it was Jiumozhi’s turn to be stunned. He shot a shocked glance at Song Qingshu. “I didn’t expect my junior brother to understand Sanskrit as well.”

Song Qingshu looked embarrassed. “I only know a little—just the basics.”

“In that case, let me recite another passage, one that my junior brother surely has not heard before.” Jiumozhi proceeded to chant a lengthy Sanskrit verse.

He then translated, “To subdue a wandering mind, one must investigate its origin. If its origin is empty, where can such thoughts reside? To examine the root of thought is to find no root at all. The wisdom that perceives is inherently void, and the object perceived is likewise silent. This silence is not true silence, for there is no one to silence it. This illumination is not true illumination, for there is nothing to be illuminated. When both mind and object are empty, the heart rests in peace. Neither seeking dust outside nor clinging to stillness within—this is the essence of the Prajna Palm’s internal cultivation.”

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