Martial Cultivator

Back then, before the Sword Sect’s Sect Master went to the Deercry Monastery, he had come to Deercry Monastery. If the old monk had not intervened at the time, it was uncertain whether he could have comprehended that sword.

The old monk neither affirmed nor denied it.

The black-robed monk scratched his bald head, as if recalling something, but for a moment did not know how to put it into words.

The old monk said, “If you had already understood and made your decision, why come to see me?”

The old monk’s aged voice sounded. “Since you do not believe you are him, then I have no connection with you.”

The black-robed monk scratched his head, thought for a moment, and said, “I always feel there is some connection with him, so I’ve come to bid you farewell on his behalf.”

The old monk remained silent.

The black-robed monk thought for a moment, but still could not help asking, “Given his cultivation, if he wanted to arrange things, could he make it easy for people to find his next life?”

The “he” the black-robed monk referred to was naturally the black-robed monk who had become the Nation Teacher while still a monk, the most famous black-robed monk under heaven.

The old monk looked at him but did not speak immediately. After a long while, he said, “When a person dies, their soul experiences three calamities and nine tribulations. Eight out of ten will have no next life at this stage. Of the remaining two, even if they are reincarnated, there will be no trace to follow. In truth, I cannot find any evidence in you. You are indeed him from back then.”

“But it is very strange...your temperament, your likes and dislikes, are exactly the same as his from back then.”

“If it were coincidence, there would not be such coincidence. People with the same temperament and likes might exist in the world, but for it to just happen to be at Deercry Monastery...”

The old monk looked at the young monk before him, unsure how many years younger he was, and murmured softly, “In my life, I have seen many extraordinarily gifted people. In terms of cultivation talent, he is not exceptional. In terms of comprehension, he is decent but nothing remarkable. Yet if one speaks of wisdom, insight into the world, I have seen no second.”

How to let a local feudal prince successfully take a dynasty into his grasp. If it were someone else, with other methods, it might not be impossible.

But at that time, the Great Liang Emperor had only so little to work with. To get him safely into the Divine Capital and prevent outsiders from interfering, that was as difficult as ascending to heaven. Because at that time, the Infatuation Daoist Temple could see clearly: a worthless emperor on the dragon throne would always have seemed the better choice than the Great Liang Emperor.

How much mental effort, how much time, how much weighing and planning, all of it was not easy.

If the old monk himself had tried it back then, it would have been simple - march straight through, change the ruler of a dynasty. Not difficult. But what if he did not have that cultivation?

Over these years, the old monk had not stopped thinking. Occasionally, in boredom, he would simulate the matter, placing himself in the position of the black-robed monk from back then. No matter what he tried, he could not have succeeded.

So he could only admire the young monk who was far younger than himself. It was then that he began no longer to consider himself even a half-master to that person.

The black-robed monk suddenly stood up and laughed, “It doesn’t matter anymore. Whether it’s him or not, it makes no difference. Tomorrow, this disciple will still eat three bowls of rice, no more, no less.”

The old monk looked at the black-robed monk before him. In his eyes was a peculiar emotion, as if at this moment he once again saw that young monk from long ago, similarly carefree, without any burdens weighing on him.

The young monk before him seemed to accomplish what he wished to, and to not do what he did not wish. No concern, no overthinking.

After saying this, the black-robed monk stood up and turned to leave the small temple.

The old monk did not call after him, only watched as he departed, his two white eyebrows slowly swaying.

A small temple, with someone inside and someone outside.

One may never leave this temple in this life; one may never return.

The black-robed monk returned from the mountainside small temple to White Deer Monastery, then went to the meditation room to change into a clean set of monk robes, still black.

Afterward, he stepped into the Great Hero Hall.

Inside the Great Hero Hall, some of the monks were not young; some had white eyebrows, others had aged faces. They all stood quietly on either side. At the far end of the hall stood the abbot of Deercry Monastery, Master Pingdu.

Among the great cultivators of this world, the Sword Sect’s Sect Master now enjoyed unparalleled prestige, and the former Daoist Wuyang was also dazzlingly renowned. The Great Liang Emperor, with his martial prowess, had subdued the world. Even the academy dean, though slightly inferior, had a reputation well-known.

vYet it seemed that only this Buddhist leader, the abbot of Deercry Monastery, remained too inconspicuous.

Over the years, he had virtually never taken action, and practically never walked the world to accomplish anything great.

This monk’s true level of Buddhist attainment was known only to a few highly respected elder monks within the order.

As for fighting ability, though he might be inferior to a few others, he certainly was not to be looked down upon so easily.

The black-robed monk scratched his shaved head, glanced at Abbot Pingdu, and said with a smile, “Martial Uncle, in my opinion, if you are free, you really should go out and see the world. Looking at these statues every day, sure, your Buddhist attainments are high, but how could they be even higher?”

Abbot Pingdu did not rush to reply. He simply smiled at the black-robed monk. This monk had entered Deercry Monastery just over twenty years ago. According to seniority, he technically should not call him ‘martial uncle,’ but due to that well-known reason, everyone tacitly accepted that he was the other person, and so accepted the form of address.

If anyone else had said such a thing, Abbot Pingdu might have paid it no mind, since his own Buddhist attainment was indeed high, hardly anyone in the world could match him. But hearing it from the black-robed monk, he was willing to ponder it.

“That sword user has already broken through the boundary. That junior Yun Jianyue will soon catch up. As for that martial artist, Martial Uncle, you can see clearly. If you remain unmoved, then...”

Here, the black-robed monk abruptly stopped, waving his hand. “Forget it. Martial Uncle’s path, you know better than anyone. I, as a junior, will say no more.”

Abbot Pingdu did not dwell on it either, only softly asked, “Have you decided? Not reconsidering?”

Though he knew this question was redundant, somehow he still wanted to ask, perhaps out of reluctance.

“I will not reconsider. Martial Uncle, with your understanding of us, would we change our minds?”

The black-robed monk deliberately used “us.”

Abbot Pingdu said nothing, only sighed. Then he took a few steps, took a willow branch from a monk beside him, dipped it in water, and gently brushed it over the black-robed monk’s head.

Then he handed the branch to the black-robed monk with a smile and said, “After you step out of this Great Hero Hall today, you will no longer be a monk of Deercry Monastery.”

Expelled from the monastery?

No, just returning to secular life.

In essence, it is the same thing.

From now on, there was no connection

The black-robed monk smiled, saying nothing.

Abbot Pingdu could not help speaking again, “You have already walked this path once; do you want to look once more at the scenery you have already seen?”

The black-robed monk shook his head and said, “Putting aside whether or not this is the path I walked, or whether these are the sights I’ve seen, this time, it’s different.”

Abbot Pingdu remained silent.

The black-robed monk turned, approaching the threshold. One foot stepped forward, the other still behind.

From behind, Abbot Pingdu called out, “Hui Xuan, take care!”[usually, monks get a buddhist name, Hui = wisdom, Xuan = profound/mysterious]

“I won’t use that name anymore.” The black-robed monk did not turn, only waved his hand.

......

......

”Infatuation Daoist Temple.

Yun Jianyue, dressed in a dark red daoist robe, his face pale as death, slowly arrived at the back mountain.

Before the most secluded of the cave dwellings.

Here, plants grew wildly; some cave entrances were already obscured by weeds. Even if one looked carefully, it was difficult to discern whether it was truly a grotto.

The Infatuation Daoist Temple had profound foundations. Almost every so often, someone at the end of Nepenthe would emerge. There had never been any generational gap. Among these daoists, upon reaching such a realm, only a few would walk the world and leave their name behind. Most would choose seclusion. Whether they would break through boundaries or perish with their Dao disspating, truthfully, even the temple itself knew few of these outcomes.

At this moment, Yun Jianyue appeared, observing those cave dwellings that gave off faint traces of auras, or sometimes none at all.

Taking a deep breath, Yun Jianyue softly said, “Seniors, since you did not concern yourselves with temple matters or worldly affairs in the past, now you may focus on your cultivation. Temple matters, worldly affairs, leave them to this disciple.”

......

......

Demon Race’s Royal Capital.

Inside Parasol Palace, Yun Jianyue sat cross-legged beneath the wutong tree, his face pale.

The wound from that day had not yet fully healed until now.

The flying sword named Autumn Beyond the Tower was planted beside her, a fallen leaf resting on its hilt.

Autumn’s eyes opened slightly, looking at the parasol leaf.

In an instant, a stream of sword qi abruptly appeared, slicing it clean in two.

The flying sword already contained a significant amount of sword qi, but this particular sword aura did not emanate from the sword.

It came from elsewhere.

Autumn’s eyes returned to a snow-white state.