Chapter 1

In the far north of the Great Dry Dynasty lies a mountain range stretching for two thousand miles, perpetually shrouded in snow, resembling a silver dragon spanning the heavens and earth.

This is precisely where the famous Great Snow Mountain Sect is located.

The Great Snow Mountain Sect is one of the three major sects of the Great Dry Dynasty, with 108 temples.

The Vajra Temple is one of these 108 temples.

Covering about a hundred acres, with red walls and yellow tiles, the temple complex consists of one courtyard after another, layer upon layer, resembling a Buddhist mandala.

In front of the temple stand several ancient trees, their branches intertwining to form a canopy that blocks out the sky.

Behind the temple are numerous stupa towers, built up the slope of the snow-capped peaks, housing the relics of generations of high monks.

“Dong dong...”

“Dong dong dong dong...”

The sound of the bell reverberates through the sky.

The chanting abruptly stops, and soon, gray-robed monks with shiny bald heads file out of the Great Hall, like a row of light bulbs.

Hundreds of monks quickly disperse after the morning service, each heading to their respective duties.

Some sweep, some practice martial arts, some go to the dining hall, and some fetch water and chop wood, turning the quiet temple into a bustling scene.

The dining hall is especially busy.

The spacious dining hall has nine long tables, each thirty meters long and three meters wide, with the tabletops and benches polished to a shine.

Twelve monks are busy serving large bowls of food onto the long tables, covering the bowls to keep them warm.

They serve and receive the food with skill, carrying and delivering the bowls with agility, working efficiently and quickly.

A rough-looking middle-aged monk, while serving the food, shouts, “Fanning! Take the food to Master Yuanzhi... Ah, take the food to Brother Fakong.”

His voice trails off, and he shakes his head with a look of melancholy.

“Yes, Brother Faming,” a young monk with a plump, Buddha-like face responds, his expression gentle and sincere.

Faming’s voice rises again, his large eyes glaring, “No eating on the way!”

“Brother Faming!” Fanning’s plump face shows a look of grievance, and he protests, “Why would I eat on the way!”

“Humph, if you didn’t eat on the way, how could you be so fat!” Faming pouts, and seeing Fanning about to argue, he waves his hand impatiently, “Hurry up and come back!”

“...Yes!”

Fanning responds dejectedly, his large belly protruding as he carries the food box out of the dining hall.

“Sigh... I still feel like Uncle Yuanzhi is alive.” Faming shakes his head, sighing.

“Uncle Yuanzhi has been in Nirvana for seven days.”

“The most pitiful one is Brother Fakong. His master, who he relied on for life, is gone, leaving him alone in the world. It’s no wonder he’s so sad. I gave him an extra bowl of food.” Faming’s face shows a look of compassion.

“Now that Uncle Yuanzhi is gone, shouldn’t Brother Fakong be able to get a less demanding job?”

“Difficult.”

“Hmm—?”

“The Medicine Valley was granted to Uncle Yuanzhi by the temple. Since Brother Fakong inherited Uncle Yuanzhi’s mantle, he must also inherit the Medicine Valley and continue to grow the herbs.”

“The Medicine Valley is not small. It was manageable with two people, but now Brother Fakong is alone... and his body is so weak, can he handle it?”

“Sigh... Brother Fakong’s talent is indeed... If he could just master the Little Arhat Fist, it wouldn’t be so difficult.”

“...Brother Faming, what rule did Uncle Yuanzhi break?”

The monks look at Faming with curiosity.

Under normal circumstances, if a disciple of the Vajra Temple breaks a rule, their martial arts are directly nullified, and they are sent to the Tranquility Tower to face the wall.

Uncle Yuanzhi’s martial arts were nullified, but he was granted a valley to grow herbs.

“It’s probably because Uncle Yuanzhi was skilled in herbs. Growing herbs is also a way to atone for his sins... Stop nagging and get back to work!” Faming waves his hand irritably.

—

Fanning leaves the dining hall with the food box, his large belly and thick legs making him look clumsy like an elephant.

In reality, he moves as quickly as a white bear, his obesity not hindering his speed.

He strides out of the Vajra Temple, rushing down the icy steps.

The icy steps are hard and slippery, but he takes large steps, his feet sticking firmly to the steps without slipping.

His gray robe flaps against his body, the sound of the wind revealing his round belly, creating a striking scene.

After descending over two hundred steps, he turns into a small valley.

As soon as he enters the valley, the air becomes warm like spring.

His plump face breaks into a smile.

In the center of the valley is a circular lake about a hundred meters in diameter, its water reflecting the blue sky and white clouds like a mirror.

Surrounding the lake are neatly arranged plots of land, each a small square, each plot growing different herbs.

A pine wood cottage stands by the fields, with a pine wood table in front, on which a tea stove, teapot, and teacups are placed.

In the bright sunlight, a thin young monk is carrying water to water the fields.

He wears a short gray monk’s robe, his appearance ordinary, his body thin, the two wooden buckets on the pole he carries looking like they might crush him at any moment.

He walks unsteadily between the rows of fields, swaying, water occasionally spilling from the buckets and trickling into the soil.

His gray robe is stained with sweat, the chest and back showing white patches, matching his pale face.

But his expression is focused and calm, his unsteady gait, profuse sweating, and pale face not diminishing his tranquility, as if he is enjoying the work rather than enduring it.

“Brother! It’s time to eat!”

Fanning’s tone is tinged with dissatisfaction as he steps forward, easily lifting the pole onto his shoulder as if it were a light stick.

He then hands over the wooden box, “Brother Fakong, I’ve told you many times, let me carry the water!”

“Brother Fanning.” Fakong smiles, taking the food box and wiping the sweat from his forehead, “You’re early today.”

Even in such a disheveled state, his demeanor remains composed and serene, exuding a sense of ease.

“Brother, why do you have to tire yourself!” Fanning says, dissatisfied.

He carries the two buckets of water to the end of the field, pours them into the furrows, and then strides back to the lake to fetch more water.

Fakong shakes his head and smiles.

He has a compulsion to water the fields on time, no matter how tired he is, or he feels uncomfortable and restless.

He reflects inwardly.

The connection between people is truly unpredictable. Some people remain distant even after a long time, while others become close friends in just a few days.

Fanning has only been delivering food for a few days, but they have already become like old friends.

In his previous life, he struggled from an orphan to a man with millions, fighting his way through the business world.

The saying goes, “Compassion does not lead an army, and righteousness does not manage wealth.” His heart had become cold, and he found it comfortable to be around someone as honest and kind as Fanning.

He carries the food box to the cottage, places it on the pine wood table, brews two cups of tea, and waves to Fanning, “Brother, you can come over now.”

By this time, Fanning has made six trips to fetch water.

Fakong shakes his head with a smile.

No wonder Fanning, who reached the fifth rank in just two years, can carry the two buckets of water, each weighing over a hundred pounds, as if they were feathers, making it seem like a game.

“Brother.” Fanning puts down the pole, sits down opposite him, and the chair creaks under his weight.

He drinks the tea in one gulp and says, still dissatisfied, “Next time, remember to call me to carry the water!”

Fakong smiles and agrees.

Fanning can indeed help, but Fanning has his own duties and is very busy. How can he feel at ease asking for help?

He feels he shouldn’t always trouble Fanning, which is precisely what Fanning finds annoying, thinking he is being too formal.

Fakong opens the wooden box and takes out three bowls of dishes and two bowls of rice.

The three dishes include two meat dishes and one vegetable.

Apart from a tall stack of beef and a large ham, even the stir-fried cabbage is shiny with oil, which in his previous life would be considered high in oil, salt, and calories, and extremely unhealthy.

The disciples of the Vajra Temple practice martial arts and do not abstain from meat, so every meal includes meat.

The smell of the meat makes Fakong’s stomach rumble.

He resists the urge to pour all the food into his stomach at once and eats slowly.

These unhealthy dishes are actually suitable for his current body, which needs to gain weight to strengthen his blood and qi.

However, this body is naturally weak, and no matter how much he eats, he doesn’t gain weight.

“Brother, the temple has new recruits today. We have four new brothers, all of the highest caliber.”

“Congratulations.” Fakong chews a piece of beef and nods lightly.

The stronger the Vajra Temple, the more benefits he, as a disciple of the Vajra Temple, will receive. It’s easier to find shelter under a big tree.

In this world, martial arts are prevalent, which means extreme danger. The Vajra Temple is his best protection.

“Uncle Yuanming wants to send a new recruit to help you, but I’m trying to convince Uncle Yuanming to let me come instead.”

Fakong nods lightly and puts another piece of beef in his mouth.

The herbs grown here are all precious, and the longer they grow, the stronger their medicinal power. The herbs here are at least ten years old.

The original owner was adopted by Master Yuanzhi from a young age and grew up in this Medicine Valley. Although his martial arts talent was poor, he was taught by Yuanzhi and was skilled in growing herbs.

Yuanzhi passed away seven days ago, leaving him alone. His body is weak, and managing the Medicine Valley alone is indeed challenging.

It’s not a big deal for him to be tired, but if the herbs are damaged, it would be a loss for the Vajra Temple, so sending a new recruit to help is reasonable.

“Sigh... Uncle Yuanming is so stubborn, no matter how I plead, he won’t change his mind!” Fanning sighs.

“Having you come to help with the herbs would be a waste of your talent.” Fakong smiles, putting the beef in his mouth and chewing slowly.

Fanning is a fifth-rank expert.

In the martial arts world, the cultivation realm is divided into four levels: Human Essence, Earth Essence, Heaven Essence, and Divine Essence.

Human Essence is the cultivation of essence and qi.

Essence and qi circulate in the body, cannot leave the body, and enhance physical strength. At this stage, the focus is on strength, speed, and techniques.

Martial artists at this level are considered third-rate experts.

Earth Essence is the cultivation of true qi.

True qi travels through the meridians, and by following specific paths, it can temporarily enhance one’s strength or speed, or be used to injure others through the hands or weapons, penetrating the opponent’s body and damaging their meridians.

Martial artists at this level are considered second-rate experts.

Heaven Essence is the cultivation of steel qi.

True qi is like gas, while steel qi is like water, more refined and pure, with incomparably greater power.

Most importantly, steel qi can leave the body.

It can be used for long-range attacks, where the force of the fingers or palms can detach from the body and penetrate the opponent’s body, damaging their meridians or internal organs.

It can also be condensed into a protective steel qi shield using special techniques, which is tough and dense, not only neutralizing the true qi or steel qi from weapons or palms but also injuring the opponent.

Martial artists at this level are considered first-rate experts, the top tier.

The realm above these three, Divine Essence, involves the spiritual domain.

Often, only those with both talent and opportunity can achieve it, occasionally through a flash of inspiration, becoming a generation’s master.

In the world, there are only a few masters.

According to Fakong’s knowledge, the Great Snow Mountain Sect has its own system, divided into nine ranks.

Human Essence is the ninth and eighth ranks, Earth Essence is the seventh and sixth ranks, Heaven Essence is the fifth and fourth ranks, and Divine Essence is the third and second ranks, with the highest being the first rank.

Fanning, at a young age, reached the fifth rank in just two years, with steel qi protection, is truly a prodigy. How can he be asked to help with the herbs in the Medicine Valley?

It would be a waste of his talent.

“I will definitely make Uncle Yuanming agree!” Fanning encourages himself.

He thinks to himself.

Brother Fakong is not only physically weak but also has poor martial arts talent. The new recruits are all martial arts prodigies with talent not inferior to his own, and they might look down on Brother Fakong.

How can Brother Fakong feel comfortable with such people around?

Even if he beats up the new recruits to establish authority for Brother Fakong, it might not work.

So it’s best for him to come and help.

Fakong nods, “Brother, are you going to start practicing the Eight Extremes of Vajra after reaching the eighth level of the Little Arhat Fist?”

“Yes.”

“Are you not going to continue practicing the Little Arhat Fist?”

“Master said that reaching the eighth level is enough to build a solid foundation, and there’s no need to continue. Others usually stop at the sixth level.”

“Wasn’t there a patriarch who reached the tenth level?”

“Master said that Patriarch Miaoling reached the tenth level due to a unique opportunity, which is a matter of destiny, not human effort, and cannot be forced.”

“If you insist on reaching the tenth level, how long would it take?”

“Master said that if the opportunity is not there, even a hundred years of practice would be in vain. Several senior disciples in our temple have spent their lives practicing the Little Arhat Fist but never reached the tenth level, wasting their time, which is truly a pity.”

Fakong nods thoughtfully and smiles, “Brother, you should go back, or Brother Faming will nag again.”

“Then I’ll go. Brother, remember not to carry water!” Fanning gets up reluctantly, reminding him with concern.

Although Fakong is physically weak, Fanning feels a sense of stability and calmness in him, like a mountain.

Fakong’s speech is calm and gentle, making him feel comfortable and naturally trusting and relying on him.

“Okay, okay, go quickly.” Fakong waves with a smile.

Fanning bows and then strides away.

Fakong watches him leave, continues eating, and reflects on his strange experience.

He has been in this world for seven days.

Although only seven days have passed, his past life feels like it was seven years ago, like a dream.