Chapter 7

The Chanxin Hall is where Shaolin receives guests, consisting of multiple courtyards. At this moment, the bare trees stood tall, covered with a thin layer of snow.

Meng Qi waved his broom to clear the remaining snow in the courtyard. Suddenly, the door of a side room opened, and a young Taoist with two buns on his head stood at the door and shouted, "Hey, little monk, the room is a bit dirty, come and clean it."

"Sure, sir." Meng Qi gave a single-handed salute and walked towards the side room, while the young Taoist, who still had a hint of childishness, returned to the room.

When Meng Qi reached the door, he looked inside and saw about seven or eight people, each dressed differently, with a variety of colors, much more vibrant than the monotonous attire of Shaolin.

Hmm, there seems to be a girl too? Meng Qi didn't dare to look closely to avoid being impolite, but in his hurried glance, he seemed to have seen a young girl in a light yellow dress.

It seems that Shaolin in this world doesn't prohibit female guests from entering... Meng Qi carefully bypassed several guests, intending to clean up the broken teacups on the ground.

Suddenly, a foot stretched out from somewhere, right in front of Meng Qi.

Meng Qi didn't have time to pull back his leg and tripped over it, feeling his center of gravity lost, stumbling forward.

In surprise, Meng Qi vaguely saw that the one who tried to trip him was the young Taoist with two buns on his head. He had deep-set features, and the most striking were his thick, black eyebrows that resembled two flying knives. At this moment, he didn't even look at Meng Qi, his eyes fixed intently on something in front of Meng Qi.

Meng Qi waved his arms, trying hard to maintain his balance to prevent falling, but the young Taoist had timed his move perfectly, making it impossible for Meng Qi to regain his balance. He could only watch helplessly as the ground drew closer, imagining the miserable scene of falling flat on his face.

At this moment, a light yellow color appeared in Meng Qi's field of vision. Then, a long sword with a heavy green copper scabbard appeared out of nowhere, gently pressing against Meng Qi's chest.

The force of the sword was very light, and Meng Qi barely felt any pain, but its angle and strength were just right, immediately stopping his fall and restoring his balance.

Meng Qi raised his head in a daze and saw a face that was stunningly beautiful, with dark eyebrows and large eyes. Her black hair was simply tied up, flowing down smoothly. She wore a light yellow dress and was about sixteen or seventeen years old, but she didn't look the least bit childish.

Her pink lips parted, and her voice was as clear as a lark: "The Xuantian Sect claims to be the lineage of the Heavenly Emperor. Is this how you bully children?"

Hmph, the young Taoist from the Xuantian Sect didn't answer, just gave a light snort.

The girl turned to look at Meng Qi and suddenly smiled, two dimples appearing at the corners of her mouth, making her look very sweet: "Little monk, don't mind that bad person. He just wanted to test my sword skills through you."

Saying this, she pursed her lips slightly and raised her head: "But even if he saw my sword skills, so what?"

She didn't say it directly, but Meng Qi felt a sense of pride and confidence in her own strength.

"Thank you, miss, for your help." Meng Qi steadied himself and thanked her instinctively.

The girl retracted her sword and chuckled: "You sound more like a young nobleman than a little monk. You should call me a female benefactor."

Then she turned her sword and returned a salute: "Yes, I'm Jiang Zhimi, a disciple of the Xijian Pavilion. I'm sorry for involving you in our conflict."

At this moment, the young Taoist from the Xuantian Sect snorted again: "I just didn't expect Shaolin's disciples to be so weak, tripping so easily."

His eyebrows raised, matching the childishness on his face, giving a somewhat defiant tone.

"He's just a miscellaneous monk. Why don't I test the martial arts of your miscellaneous monks to see if they are as strong as you?" Jiang Zhimi smiled sarcastically.

"You!" The young Taoist stood up.

"What are you doing?" A deep voice suddenly sounded from the doorway.

Meng Qi turned back and saw a young man in a long robe with a bagua pattern walk in, his long eyebrows extending into his hairline, his nose straight, and his eyes sharp like lightning.

At first glance, Meng Qi thought this handsome and masculine man was in his twenties, but upon closer inspection, he realized he was probably only seventeen or eighteen.

He has a very mature aura... Meng Qi suppressed his anger and frustration, evaluating silently.

"Brother Zhang, Qingjing tripped this little monk to test my sword skills," Jiang Zhimi stated simply, without adding any embellishments.

Brother Zhang looked at Qingjing and said sternly, "Since you've left the mountain gate, every move you make represents the Xuantian Sect. Don't lose your dignity."

"Yes, Brother Zhang," the young Taoist answered, somewhat委屈 (wronged), but it seemed that Brother Zhang had high prestige among the young disciples of various sects, and no one in the room spoke up for Qingjing.

"I was too rash," the young Taoist turned to Meng Qi and said, then quickly turned his head away.

Meng Qi took a light breath, didn't say anything more, and simply said, "I am Zhen Ding, the little monk."

Brother Zhang nodded slightly and said to Meng Qi, "Brother Zhen Ding, I am Zhang Yuanshan of the Zhenwu Sect. Honored by the friends of various sects, they call me 'Brother.' I hope you can forgive today's incident."

It's just that my martial arts are weak... Meng Qi didn't say this out loud, nodded, indicating that he wouldn't take such a trivial matter to heart, then clasped his hands and softly chanted a Buddhist verse, cleaning the floor and leaving the room.

"That little monk has some backbone..." From a distance, Meng Qi vaguely heard Jiang Zhimi make this comment.

Back at the miscellaneous monk's quarters, there was still some time before lunch, but Meng Qi was restless and eager to practice, yet the "Hundred Days Foundation Building" was already completed, and there was no specific technique for "Zen Concentration and Qi Accumulation." He could only hide in the meditation room and practice the Luohan Fist repeatedly to strengthen his body.

At lunchtime, Zhenhui and others didn't return, apparently assigned to clean the Dharma Hall, where the young disciples of various sects were to engage in sparring.

It wasn't until evening that Meng Qi saw Zhenyan, Zhenhui, and others return, their faces full of excitement, talking non-stop.

"Did the sparring start in the afternoon?" Meng Qi's heart stirred, and he quickly stepped forward to ask.

Zhenhui nodded vigorously: "Yes, it was very exciting! Too bad you weren't there, Brother."

Zhenyan nodded slightly and sighed: "Their ages are similar to mine, but their martial arts are ten times stronger. Sigh..."

Comparing people can be very frustrating... This thought suddenly popped into Meng Qi's mind, and he asked curiously, "Who was the final winner?"

"The final match was very exciting, with a long sword, a Taoist..." Zhenhui waved his hands, excitedly recounting, but his words were so disorganized that Meng Qi couldn't understand.

Zhenyan smiled: "The final battle was between Zhang Yuanshan of the Zhenwu Sect and Jiang Zhimi of the Xijian Pavilion. Hehe, they defeated the young disciples of various sects, including Zhenmiao and Zhenben."

Zhenyan looked gleeful at the defeat of his fellow senior brothers who entered the temple with him.

"Zhenwu Sect, Xijian Pavilion?" Xuanxin had approached at some point. "Hehe, the young disciples of these two sects have met in a narrow path."

"Narrow path?" Meng Qi felt that Zhang Yuanshan and Jiang Zhimi didn't have a bad relationship.

Xuanxin clicked his tongue: "Taoism has a divine skill that can rival the 'Buddha's Palm,' called the 'Seven Swords of Heaven.' It has been lost for a long time. The Zhenwu Sect and the Xijian Pavilion are based on one of its techniques. They, hehe, have a relationship similar to that between the Vajra Temple and our Shaolin. Moreover, the Xijian Pavilion only respects the Daoist ancestor and does not belong to Taoism. Who won in the end?"

"Zhang Yuanshan of the Zhenwu Sect lost to Jiang Zhimi by half a move," Zhenyan quickly answered, repeating what the head monk of the Dharma Hall, Kongsong, had said.

Xuanxin was taken aback: "The girl from the Xijian Pavilion won? Is she another Su Wuming? Hehe, be careful, for the strong can easily break."

The monks discussed the sparring for a long time. After returning to the meditation room, Meng Qi couldn't calm down for a long time, thinking about Zhang Yuanshan and Jiang Zhimi, who were like dragons and phoenixes among people, and feeling extremely frustrated when he thought about himself.

The bright moon shone through the thin clouds, casting a shallow, clear reflection on the bed.

"When can I leave the miscellaneous monk's quarters and truly begin my martial arts training..." Meng Qi thought, unable to contain himself, and decided to ask the veteran miscellaneous monks, Zhen Guan and Zhen Ying. Uncle Xuanzang must have had a reason for placing him here.

"Brother Zhen Guan, Brother Zhen Ying, do you know how to leave the miscellaneous monk's quarters? Or are there any specific requirements?" As long as the requirements were clear and not just a matter of personal judgment, Meng Qi believed he had a chance to achieve them.

Hearing this, Zhen Ying, who loved to sleep, sat up and laughed loudly: "After much effort to enter Shaolin, I've been trapped here for three years, and another three years, and I'll be sent out of the temple in two years, achieving nothing. Ha, achieving nothing, how can I face my family!"

His laughter was more painful than crying, evoking the feeling of a cuckoo's blood-curdling cry.

"Leave the miscellaneous monk's quarters? Hmph, in these seven years, I haven't seen anyone succeed! Hehe, Xuan Ku is just lying to us to make us do hard labor!" Zhen Guan gritted his teeth, as if he wanted to eat someone's flesh and blood.

Hearing their answers, Meng Qi's hope was immediately extinguished, and he felt lost.

After Zhen Ying and Zhen Guan made a fuss, they fell silent again, falling back into a "self-isolated" state, while Zhenhui's breathing became longer and deeper, clearly already in a deep sleep.

Meng Qi looked out the window, unable to sleep, feeling like a bird trapped in a cage, unable to escape, with feelings of anxiety, urgency, and frustration rising and falling.

After a long time, Meng Qi finally fell asleep.

The moonlight was like water, shining on Meng Qi, as if draping him in a light veil. Suddenly, a greenish-blue light appeared on his chest, looking very strange.

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