Simon considered himself to have an emotional connection to Shaolin Temple, but it wasn't his home. Temples are for renunciants, so such architecture is already beyond the scope of familial influence; it's a dwelling place without a clan system. Moreover, in many instances, it serves a similar function to a park, a place for visitors to relax and pass the time.
Since he had left, there was no need to rush back for now.
Having glimpsed some future chaos in the capital through his Fate-seeing, Simon decided to stay and watch the excitement. Secondly, he also intended to cultivate his Divination in this densely populated area.
Quan Suhuan came to visit Simon every day.
As a member of the Pure Land, she felt a great sense of familiarity and closeness with Simon. In this regard, Simon was now a heartthrob.
His daily schedule remained simple.
He woke up early for breakfast: a bowl of millet porridge and eight exquisite side dishes, meticulously prepared with superb skill.
He spent two hours chatting with Quan Suhuan, explaining Buddhist principles.
Then he went to the Quan Manor's Scripture Reading Pavilion to read books.
At noon, a vegetarian feast, usually eighteen main courses, three soups, and two desserts.
In the afternoon, he went out to tell fortunes, only taking three readings before returning to practice martial arts.
Dinner was, of course, also a vegetarian feast: twenty-four main dishes, six soups, and thirteen post-meal desserts.
The chefs at Quan Manor were all former imperial chefs. Counting the nine years when Xiangxu brought chaos and turmoil to the world, they had served a total of fourteen emperors.
Finally, meditation, sleep, and the day concluded.
Simon was now practicing the transcendent third-tier 'Arhat Divine Skill,' which was essentially an upgraded and enhanced version of the 'Nine Yang Divine Skill.'
It was said that his form would be emaciated yet possess immense strength, and his mortal eyes would perceive the spiritual. Where his skill reached, pain would vanish, all evil would recede, and all manner of supreme arts would be self-taught and spontaneously formed.
By practicing this divine skill, his internal energy would unblock all meridians, touching upon the profound martial arts principle of the mutual transformation of essence, qi, and spirit. When the several chief monks imparted the mental cultivation methods to him, they greatly boasted that as long as the Buddhist Son learned this 'Arhat Divine Skill,' all martial arts in the world would be readily available to him.
Originally, the other unique martial arts of Shaolin were planned to be learned all at once after mastering this divine skill. However, the plan had slightly changed, as he could no longer ask for guidance in person; he could only learn in the Pure Land Pearl... Well, actually, there was no difference, he still had to endure the monks' resentful gazes.
Simon found these Bald Donkeys a headache. Ever since he became the unspoken leader of the current Buddhist sect, the monastics had become somewhat lazy.
This was a laziness akin to relying on heaven for sustenance. They no longer focused on the cultivation of the heart, nor on philosophical, Zen, or cosmic contemplation. Instead, they began to compete in the pursuit of mysticism, that is, they began to explore the system of creation based on superior affinity, manifesting as worship and imitation of Lu Yuan Bodhisattva.
Simon was believed to be the incarnation of Lu Yuan Bodhisattva. Of course, this was indeed the case, but after the monks separated his personality, they further deepened the authority of Lu Yuan Bodhisattva.
They were creating a god, a contemporary Sakyamuni.
However, sometimes the greater the hope, the greater the disappointment. The path Simon desired was different from theirs.
...
Time flew by, and the years passed peacefully.
Mo Yun, slowly adapting to life in Quan Manor, fell in love with its bamboo groves.
It was clear that the mistress, Quan Suhuan, truly loved bamboo, so many courtyards were left uninhabited, solely for cultivating bamboo groves.
These bamboo groves served as recreational areas for the people of Quan Manor. It was estimated that mosquitoes would be rampant in the summer.
Fortunately, it was winter.
A beautiful, cold, mosquito-free winter.
Mo Yun was born in Jiangnan, where insects were much larger and more numerous than in the north. Even indoors, one would encounter wild insects, such as centipedes and slugs.
Because he had been bothered by these insects many times, Mo Yun was extremely satisfied with the northern regions, where insects were sparse.
Following Simon's teachings, he no longer used a sword, so now he spent his days cultivating his temperament.
Music, chess, calligraphy, painting, flute, xiao, sheng, hou, poetry, lyrics, and couplets—such scholarly recreational activities once occupied nearly half of his life. For children of wealthy families, many basic accomplishments were essential.
The cultivation of art requires time and passion. Among nearly ten talents, he ultimately chose guqin as his spiritual solace.
Originally, he carried a fifth-grade treasure guqin, 'Feiyun Shuangyu,' made of black jade, but it had, of course, been stolen along with everything else.
Whenever Mo Yun thought of his belongings still being in the hands of those insidious and cunning bandits, his heart couldn't help but ache.
Money wasn't the key; the value of old artifacts couldn't be measured by money.
Without Feiyun Shuangyu, he temporarily had no desire to play the guqin. So, he chose a jade flute from the Pavilion of Wonders and played a few tunes every evening in the secluded bamboo grove.
December, the first day of the month, a new moon night.
Mo Yun still carried his jade flute and headed to the familiar bamboo grove.
It was a bit late today; he had forgotten the time while painting a withered lotus, so it was completely dark when he left.
There was no moonlight, but the stars in the clear sky were very bright.
The Xiangfei bamboo grove, with its tear-stained patterns, was also a sea of stars.
Mo Yun was still very fond of Xiangfei bamboo because his mother had told him its story.
Walking on the pebble path, the flute gently tapped his arm, feeling leisurely and at ease.
"Clang—Clang!"
A resonant guqin sound came from deep within the grove.
Someone had arrived here first, and it seemed to be a fellow connoisseur.
Two clear notes, then music flowed out like water.
Mo Yun stopped his hasty steps and paused to appreciate it.
A piece called 'Cloud and Water Prelude.'
Indeed, when slow, it was like the comfortable and soft white clouds in the autumn sky, and when urgent, it was like a great river rushing to the sea.
The harmonious and flowing guqin notes seemed to transform into shimmering ripples.
Mo Yun stared in a daze. He saw the bamboo grove submerged by tranquil lake water, the Xiangfei bamboo shrinking into reflections on the lake's surface. A gentle breeze wrinkled the ripples, and the faint light between the small waves rose, transforming into large patches of fireflies—white, purple, yellow, green, blue, all sorts of colors, like Ghost or Spirit, whispering softly and conferring, but looking left and right, he saw no speakers.
It was these specks of light that were speaking. They chuckled, rising continuously, lighting up stars in the deep, dark sky.
Darkness was broken by colorful light. Stars intertwined into constellations, forming the mythical birds and beasts, roaring and growling, and legendary ancient figures, battling heaven and earth.
Looking up, turning in circles, everywhere was beauty.
Light, sound, color, emptiness.
Like a child's deepest dream.
Mo Yun gently closed his eyes.
A man's voice sounded in his ear.
"Yun'er, do you know that the stars in the sky all have spiritual energy? They also laugh, cry, and feel sad, but no matter how troubled they are, they come out every night to illuminate the darkness. Do you know why?"
The child Mo Yun's eyes widened, his pupils reflecting the galaxy, "Why?"
"Because every star in the sky is a person on earth. The stars know people are afraid of the dark, so they try hard to shine. When people on earth see them, they are no longer afraid."
"Wow! Really? Then, Father, which star are you?"
Memories surged, crashing against the shore of reason.
Mo Yun closed his eyes, tears streaming down his face.
Father.
Which star are you?
Are you doing well there?
After a long while.
A delicate gasp sounded, "Ah! Young master, are you alright?"
Mo Yun's tears instantly stopped.
His handsome face flushed crimson in an instant, like a ripe tomato.
The swordsman, with his eyes closed and a stern expression, said stiffly, "I am perfectly fine. It's just that I was momentarily blinded by dust. I'm going to take care of it now. Farewell, young lady!"
Having said that, he turned stiffly, took wide strides, and hurried away, then nearly tripped on the ground.
"Young master, are you really alright?"
"Really fine, thank you for your concern!"
He used his qinggong, and this time he was truly fleeing.
By the time he returned to Junxian Residence, Mo Yun had already wiped away his tears and used his internal energy to reduce the swelling, pretending as if nothing had happened as he returned to his bedroom to meditate.
In the dark, unlit room, a cold whisper emerged.
"As a swordsman, how can I show a weak side? This is absolutely unacceptable... Wait, the flute!"
Meanwhile, Ning Baiyi picked up the jade flute and murmured, "What a strange person."
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