Chapter Seven: The Full Story of the Da Vinci Theft
Da Vinci could never have imagined that there would be such a master at Golden Mountain Temple. Clutching his eye, he fled desperately, finally stopping beneath the agreed-upon sunflower tree.
A monk, already waiting, was dressed in the temple’s standard robes. “Master!”
He was the most promising disciple of the youngest generation at Golden Mountain Temple, with the Dharma name Perfect Insight.
Panting for breath, Da Vinci drew a book from his robes and carefully placed it in the monk’s hands.
“Here, my disciple, study this manual while it’s still fresh. With it, you’ll be invincible in the world.”
“Is this… is this the Muscle-Tendon Classic you stole from the Sutra Pavilion, Master?” The monk swallowed, glancing at the book in his hands, then up at Da Vinci, sensing something wasn’t quite right…
In the faint light, the cover was somewhat messy. The original four-character title had been blotted out and, scrawled awkwardly to the side, was written “Muscle-Tendon Classic.”
After some careful deduction, the monk could just make out the blotted characters: Sunflower Manual!
Could there have been a mix-up…?
“Master, this manual…”
“There’s nothing wrong with it. I’ve already started practicing. It’s just… a bit ferocious… and might require some sacrifice…”
Da Vinci continued, “In just a few days, my inner power has reached the twenty-sixth level…”
Since his master spoke so confidently, the monk could hardly doubt him, although he couldn’t shake the feeling that this book wasn’t quite the same as the Muscle-Tendon Classic he’d glimpsed in the secret passageway…
He opened to the first page, and immediately his eyes fell upon a striking line:
To master this skill, you must first castrate yourself.
…
“Uh…” The monk looked up at Da Vinci again.
Da Vinci nodded solemnly.
The monk looked puzzled. “You’ve… already done it?”
“Come, I’ll help you…”
…
Half an hour later, gritting his teeth against the pain, the monk turned to the second page of the manual:
Even without castration, you may succeed.
!!!
The monk was stunned. He turned his head to Da Vinci. “Master?!?”
“Yes, I was tricked too…”
“So…”
“So I can’t be the only one…”
“…”
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The first year, three months, and eight days after arriving in this world—night, no rain.
Moonlight spilled gently down as a young monk named Xiao Yan stood on the rooftop. He rubbed his bald head, let out a heavy sigh, and drew a manual from his robe.
In the moonlight, the cover’s title was clear: Muscle-Tendon Classic.
Xiao Yan remembered how, two days prior, with Fahai’s help, he’d stolen the Muscle-Tendon Classic. Unsettled by guilt, he’d left his own Sunflower Manual in its place… and even altered the cover title before leaving…
Who would have thought…
As Xiao Yan stood in a daze, an old man’s voice echoed from within him: “The Muscle-Tendon Classic can only be cultivated by those with exceptional comprehension. In the hands of a weakling with only third-level inner strength like you, it’s a waste…”
Xiao Yan was unbothered, smiling faintly as he opened the manual and began to read carefully.
“It’s pointless. Ordinary people can’t even understand it. If they could, the monks of Golden Mountain Temple would have long since become peerless masters. I advise you to focus on the Sunflower Manual—then I can recover my own strength sooner,” the old man’s voice continued.
Half a quarter of an hour later, Xiao Yan closed the Muscle-Tendon Classic, his expression complicated, as if suffering from constipation.
“Can’t understand it, can you? Ha…”
Outside, cicadas sang, making the night feel especially quiet.
He flipped through the pages quickly—was it really incomprehensible?
“Ahem… It’s said that those with aptitude, after reading the Muscle-Tendon Classic, find in their minds not techniques but insights. My own master only ever grasped one line… and with that, became invincible…” the old man began to explain, hoping to console him.
Xiao Yan suddenly spoke: “The Way of Yin and Yang; 'Yi' is the change of change itself…”
???
The old man fell silent, for Xiao Yan’s words were exactly the insight his master had once shared with him…
A gentle breeze brushed Xiao Yan’s bald head. Eyes closed, he continued to murmur, “Though the changes in 'Yi' reside within yin and yang, the transformation of yin and yang exists within man… To shape the sun and moon in one’s palm… to wield yin and yang at one’s will…”
???
This monk was unstoppable…
The old man was completely bewildered…
Xiao Yan’s mouth moved ceaselessly, lost in insight…
A sleepy owl atop the tree yawned, cast him a disdainful glance, and looked away.
Several monks living in the house were woken by the noise, coming out repeatedly to shout, “What the hell… chanting sutras in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?”
…
The old man began to doubt his own life. He wondered: My master grasped only a single sentence, and his comprehension was already extraordinary… But this guy…
At the thought, the old man’s face burned hotly, as if he’d been slapped several times…
At last, near midnight, Xiao Yan finally stopped, stretched, and complained, “I’m exhausted…”
The old man within sighed, “Such rare comprehension… it’s seen but once in ten thousand years… It’s a pity… I’ve checked your body. Your dantian is tiny, capable of storing only three levels of inner strength. So, no matter what, you can’t become a supreme master… because you can’t store enough power…”
“Is that so?” Xiao Yan frowned, pondered, then as if struck by inspiration: “But didn’t I just use your inner strength to kick Da Vinci away today?”
“But that was still mine…”
“So what? Do you know what a cell phone is?”
“???”
“You don’t need to know. You’re the power bank; I’m the phone. My battery is small, but with a power bank always with me… Maybe you’ll understand if I put it that way…”
“…”
A sly smile crept onto Xiao Yan’s lips. Gazing into the vast distance, he whispered, “I’m going down the mountain.”
The Eighteen Arhats Formation, was it?
…
The next morning, Xiao Yan rose early as usual, delivering meals to the Eighteen Arhats. After failing to bribe them, he hurried off to the Sutra Pavilion to read.
On the way, he heard that someone was coming up the mountain to challenge the Fiery Cloud Demon Lord—a man named Sword Immortal Li Bai…
Xiao Yan paused, muttered that this guy must be an idiot, then paid no further attention.
In fact, the Sutra Pavilion at Golden Mountain Temple was vast. Besides the Buddhist scriptures open to visiting devotees, there was also an inner chamber closed to outsiders.
Within were many records about Golden Mountain Temple, including the methods for arranging the Eighteen Arhats Formation…
As a disciple, Xiao Yan was naturally permitted to enter the inner chamber. He made straight for his goal, found the books on the Eighteen Arhats Formation, and began to read…
Half an hour later, snores echoed throughout the entire Sutra Pavilion…