Chapter Forty-Seven: Peerless Beauty

When Qingkai descended from the platform, the crowd hurried over to check on him. Finding him unharmed, they finally felt somewhat relieved. Baishisong said, “Second Brother, go rest for a while. We’ll wait until Third Brother’s match is over before returning.” Then, turning to Ye Hua, he added, “Little Brother, help Second Brother back. Be careful.” Ye Hua nodded, saying, “Don’t worry, Elder Brother. I’ll see to him with the utmost care.”

Qingkai clutched his chest and coughed lightly. After a moment, he nodded to Ye Hua, “Sorry to trouble you, Brother.” His words were interrupted by another cough. Ye Hua’s face showed concern, “Brother…” Qingkai waved his hand, “Let’s go down.” He began to walk slowly ahead, and Ye Hua quickly stepped forward to assist him. The two departed, and nothing more need be said of them for the moment.

As they descended the mountain, Qingkai said, “Brother Ye, let’s rest a bit by the roadside.” “As you wish, Brother,” Ye Hua replied, quickly supporting Qingkai onto a mossy stone. Qingkai’s face was pale, his spirit faint. Ye Hua could not help worrying, “Second Brother…” But Qingkai gently waved his hand, “I’ll be fine after a rest.” He gazed for a long time up at the Bodhisattva Peak, letting out a soft sigh, “I had hoped to use this tournament in the Chan monastery as a chance to broaden my horizons after descending the mountain, filled with great ambitions. But I overestimated myself—only to become a laughingstock.”

“Brother, don’t say such things. You won, after all. You should be pleased.” Qingkai shook his head, “If the very first contest is so perilous, what hope is there for the future?” Raising his head, he looked up at the flawless sky that stretched for thousands of miles, and couldn’t help but sigh, “Enough… enough.” Ye Hua’s heart was also filled with tumult. “That Brother Xiao of Zhongtai is truly peerless. To think I could match him is just wishful thinking.” He wanted to comfort his second brother but did not know where to begin.

The sun was setting behind the mountains, casting shadows through the trees, when the two arrived at the secluded Orchid Chan Monastery. Both were anxious, uncertain how Qingshi’s match had gone. As their worry mounted, they saw everyone returning. Ye Hua hurried forward and asked, “How did it go?” Baishisong forced a stiff smile, “Third Brother’s luck was poor—he drew Hu Mengtai from Dragon-Phoenix Cave of Brocade Peak, whose practice is in the Esoteric Section of the ‘Five Sutras of the Pure Land.’ His Vajra Palm met the King of Radiant Light Hand—there was no way Third Brother could win.”

Qingshi, looking abashed, said from behind, “Brothers, it’s only because my skills are lacking that I was defeated…” Baishisong said, “Don’t dwell on it, Third Brother. Let’s check on Second Brother. Today, Master and several Uncles are returning from listening to the Chan at the Bronze Hall. It’s best to let Master preside over things.”

Everyone agreed and went inside to look in on Qingkai. By the time the moon rose over the willow tips, Zhi Ku, Zhi Gang, Zhi Hui, and the others had returned. They had not been seen for three days, so everyone hurried out to greet them. When the group from Bishan Temple arrived at the secluded Orchid Chan Monastery, the elders with the “Zhi” generation in their names had gone to the Grand Vulture Temple’s Bronze Hall to listen to Chan lectures. They’d been gone three days, and the previous day’s conflict with Qixian Temple was unknown to them.

Hearing all that had happened, Zhi Gang, the most hot-blooded among them, grew furious despite being a Buddhist monk. “Those bald donkeys from Qixian Temple dare to bully us just because we weren’t here! They pick on our juniors—I’ll go settle accounts with them!” Baishisong and the others, unfamiliar with Uncle Zhiguang’s temper, were taken aback, almost amused.

Zhi Ku said, “Brother, enough. What are you? You call them bald donkeys, but aren’t you the same? How can a monk behave so violently? Don’t let the juniors mock you.” Zhiguang, still fuming, replied, “Brother, they bullied us at our own door—how can we just let that go? How could they compare to us?”

Zhi Ku said gravely, “Amitabha. May Uncle Zhiguang take the lead.” An elderly monk nearby finally opened his clouded eyes and murmured, “In this degenerate world of the five defilements, amid the calamities of war, those with complete retinues gain knowledge of past lives.” Zhi Ku replied quietly, “Yes, Brother.”

Zhiguang looked at Ye Hua for a long moment, “Ye Hua, come with me. The rest of you juniors stay here.” “Yes, Uncle,” they all replied, bowing.

Ye Hua felt a pang of unease, unsure what kind of person this uncle might be, but followed him into the inner chamber and stood waiting.

Outside, Zhi Hui asked Zhi Ku, “Brother, according to what the juniors said, Zhixian’s strike that day was extraordinary. How did Ye Hua withstand it?” Zhi Ku was also puzzled—could some senior brother have secretly intervened? But who would have such skill? Even he would find it difficult to withstand Zhixian’s blow, let alone do so secretly and without a trace. No, it must be that Uncle Zhiguang had noticed something and called Ye Hua in for questioning.

Inside, Zhiguang stared at Ye Hua for a long time without a word. Ye Hua found it odd and cautiously ventured, “Uncle…” Zhiguang seemed not to hear. Suddenly, his eyes cleared, sharp as two beams of light boring into Ye Hua. Ye Hua felt a chill, as if he were transparent, and was shocked as his own Sixfold Celestial Harmony Art immediately activated, dispelling the cold sensation.

Zhiguang’s expression shifted slightly, the clarity in his eyes fading until they again appeared muddy and aged. After a moment’s thought, he smiled faintly, “Nephew, you entered Bishan Temple with many arts under your belt. If you focus on one, you may achieve greatness. If you’re greedy for too much, you’ll accomplish nothing.” Ye Hua replied anxiously, “I accept your teaching, Uncle.”

Zhiguang closed his eyes, “You may go.” “Yes, Uncle.” Ye Hua withdrew.

Afterward, Zhi Ku, Zhi Gang, Zhi Hui, and the others entered and asked Zhiguang, “Brother, was there anything amiss with Ye Hua?” Zhiguang shook his head, “The Four Noble Truths method he practices is quite shallow—there’s no way he could have withstood Zhixian’s strike. But oddly, he seems to have both demonic and Daoist internal force within him. I can’t say what method he’s learned, but he even withstood my ‘Great Luminous Eye’ probe.”

Zhi Hui exclaimed, “How strange! Your ‘Great Luminous Eye’ has reached the peak of the seventh level—it’s said to penetrate heaven and earth. For a disciple at the Seven Treasures stage to withstand it is remarkable indeed.” Zhi Ku said, “When Ye Hua first entered our temple, I examined him. His uncle Ye Cheng was a disciple of Master Lingmiao of Mount Danxia in Emei, and had taught him Daoist arts. Perhaps that is the reason.”

Zhiguang nodded, “Daoist methods are widely spread, and there may be secret skills in Master Lingmiao’s lineage unknown to us. In any case, some senior must have aided him that day—let’s leave it at that. You’d best focus on guiding them for tomorrow’s matches.” “Yes, Brother,” Zhi Ku replied, bowing as he left. After everyone had departed, Zhiguang remained deep in thought. At length, he sighed, murmuring, “Strange to the utmost, strange indeed…”

The next day, Ye Hua was busy caring for Qingkai and did not go to Bodhisattva Peak. Today was the match between Qingxia, Qingyu, and Ouyang Tai. By noon, word came that Qingxia and Qingyu had both won, while Ouyang Tai was defeated. No one was surprised.

Another day passed, and everyone went again to Bodhisattva Peak. Today’s matches were between Ling Yun’er, Li Yulin, and Ye Hua. At the Jiutai of Heaven and Earth, the disciples of Dragon Spring Temple waited below the platform. Zhi Ku stepped forward and bowed to a middle-aged nun, “Sister Zhijie, greetings.” The woman was none other than Abbess Zhijie, the abbess of Dragon Spring Temple on the East Peak. She returned the bow, “No need for such formality, brother.”

Turning to a young woman behind her, she said, “Yue’er, go spar with your Senior Sister Ling Yun’er. Keep it friendly—don’t harm the bond between you.” Everyone had been focused on Aunt Zhijie and hadn’t noticed the girl behind her.

Now, as the young woman stepped forward, her immortal robes fluttered, the lotus sleeves swaying gently, moving with an ethereal grace. She was light as a startled swan, elegant as a swimming dragon, her radiance outshining autumn chrysanthemums, her beauty rivaling the flourishing pines of spring. All who beheld her were struck with awe, thinking, “Who could have imagined a woman of such beauty in this world?”

Ye Hua could not help recalling a poem: “Upon Mount Guxie dwells a goddess, with skin like snow and bearing pure as a maiden, eating no grains, drinking only wind and dew… ethereal as light clouds veiling the moon, graceful as drifting snow on the wind. Seen from afar, she is bright as the sun rising over rosy clouds; viewed up close, she is as radiant as a lotus emerging from clear waters. Slender yet full, perfectly proportioned; shoulders sculpted as by a blade, waist as delicate as gossamer. Her neck is long and elegant, her fair skin exposed. She wears no extra fragrance nor cosmetics, her hair piled high like clouds, her brows gracefully arched. Crimson lips vivid without, pearly teeth shining within; bright eyes, tender glances, dimples gracing her cheeks. Her bearing is exquisite, her manner serene and composed. Gentle and charming in conversation… each glance sparkles, her jade-like face radiant. Before she utters a word, her breath is as fragrant as orchids. Her beauty is so captivating, it makes one forget to eat.”