Volume Two: Inheriting the Legacy, Blood on the Brocade Chapter 125: The Hall of Five Grains

Yang Ning beamed with delight as the young monk Zhenming recited the scripture. The young monk was earnest and patiently transmitted the Pure Scripture to Yang Ning. Although the incantation was rather awkward, the number of words was few. Zhenming repeated the verses several times and then had Yang Ning recite them. In less than an hour, Yang Ning managed to memorize it, albeit with some difficulty.

As Yang Ning had anticipated, the Pure Scripture was a true Qi cultivation method—a mental technique. He had originally thought mastering such a method would be no easy task. Yet, after Yang Ning had clearly grasped the heart method of the Pure Scripture, Zhenming did not delay but immediately taught him the breathing and Qi circulation techniques according to the Scripture. In less than an hour, Yang Ning had already learned how to cultivate Qi following the method.

He was familiar with the Six Harmonies Divine Skill. Though he had been somewhat ignorant before, he had used this skill to absorb others’ abilities during moments of crisis. Having personally experienced the sensation of true Qi flowing through the meridians, he was not without foundation. Now, the breathing and Qi techniques taught by Zhenming involved drawing the breath into the body and circulating it through several meridians.

According to Zhenming, although Master Jingchun had instructed that the Pure Scripture must not be transmitted outside, the scripture itself was not hard to learn, serving as a fundamental martial text for Qi cultivation.

Yang Ning now understood that without true Qi in the body, martial arts were soulless.

If martial moves were the form, then true Qi was the soul. Martial arts without soul were like walking corpses; no matter how brilliant, they would be stiff and lifeless.

But with the soul, no matter what martial art one learned, the integration of true Qi with techniques made form and soul one, greatly enhancing power.

Zhenming explained that the Pure Scripture, like most true Qi mental methods, could transform the Qi of heaven and earth into true Qi within the human body through cultivation. The refined true Qi would be stored in the dantian. Yet, refining the Qi of heaven and earth into pure true Qi was no easy feat.

Though Yang Ning quickly learned the breathing and Qi technique of the Pure Scripture, under Zhenming’s guidance, and indeed drew a trace of Qi into his body, the Qi only seeped a short distance within the meridians before vanishing without a trace, far from reaching the dantian.

“Junior Brother Ning, don’t be anxious,” Zhenming saw Yang Ning’s discouragement and comforted him. “You’ve just begun today. Understanding how to circulate Qi is already impressive. The key to the Pure Scripture lies in the word ‘pure.’ You must calm your mind like still water—pure, peaceful, and persistent. Only then can you gradually feel the Qi entering your body. Given time, you will be able to store Qi within. This cannot be rushed.”

Though young, Zhenming spoke with a solemn, mature tone.

Yang Ning couldn’t help but ask, “How long did it take you to accumulate true Qi?”

Zhenming pondered and replied honestly, “It took me over three months. I was quite slow.”

“So you also took three months,” Yang Ning said. “Looks like without at least ten days or so, I won’t make it either.”

Zhenming glanced at the sky. “Junior Brother Ning, it’s already dinnertime. I’ll go to the Five Grains Hall for food. You...”

Yang Ning stood and said, “I’ll go with you. If you bring as little as you did at noon, I’m afraid we’ll both starve before your master returns.”

Zhenming hesitated. “But if you go, the brothers at Five Grains Hall might not give you more.” Then added, “Master will return soon. A few days without food won’t kill me.”

Yang Ning thought to himself, “This little bald monk really lacks a sense of humor.”

Zhenming didn’t stop him but asked Yang Ning to change into a monk’s robe, which had been prepared beforehand. Though Yang Ning felt awkward wearing the monk’s robe with his hair still grown, Zhenming said it was temple custom and persuaded him repeatedly. Fearing conflict or some “small punishment” from the young monk, Yang Ning reluctantly changed. The robe fit him well.

They walked down the narrow, twisting path. Yang Ning gazed around. The mountains resembled a giant dragon—steep, winding, and undulating. Among the peaks were many lakes and springs, the mountains, water, and temple merging harmoniously into a magnificent, imposing scene. The setting sun shone on the purple shale cliffs, reflecting golden light.

The Great Brightness Temple was not a single complex but a scattering of pavilions, halls, and towers connected by floating bridges suspended in the air. Zhenming, knowing Yang Ning was new, patiently explained. Yang Ning quickly understood the temple consisted of three pavilions, five towers, seven halls, and eighteen meeting halls—vast and intricately constructed.

The Five Grains Hall was one of the eighteen halls, located between the Northern High Peak and Tianbao Peak.

After a long walk, Yang Ning felt somewhat restless, thinking it was truly hard to be a monk at Great Brightness Temple—just fetching a meal took hours.

The Five Grains Hall was the dining hall for all monks, so it was very large. When they arrived, over a hundred people were lined up in several long queues on the square outside. Zhenming led Yang Ning to the back of one queue. Yang Ning had thought his long hair in monk’s robes would attract attention, but found several others in the line also wearing robes yet with long hair, and no one minded.

There were still twenty or thirty people ahead, so Yang Ning waited. He recalled his school days, standing in line for meals. He never imagined that after so many years, still bearing the title of a noble scion, he would be queuing for food here.

Just then, footsteps approached from behind. Four or five monks, each carrying a wooden bucket, strode by swiftly.

These monks were different from the others, who mostly wore grayish-white robes. These had slightly yellow robes with yellow sashes tied at their waists, upper arms, and ankles, and walked briskly, distinct from the ordinary monks.

They did not join the queue but went straight inside the Five Grains Hall. Yang Ning guessed these monks worked there, responsible for temple logistics.

After a while, with more people lining up ahead and behind, the square remained silent despite the crowd.

At that moment, Yang Ning saw the yellow-sashed monks exit the hall, the buckets steaming hot. One passed close by. Yang Ning glanced inside and saw it was filled mostly with stir-fried bamboo shoots, the fragrance making his stomach grumble—he had barely eaten at noon.

The yellow-sashed monk noticed Yang Ning peering into the bucket, gave him a scowl, snorted coldly, and hurried off with companions.

Yang Ning thought the monk looked arrogant, as if superior, and felt quite displeased. He tapped Zhenming’s shoulder and asked, “Junior Brother, who are those guys? Why don’t they queue with everyone else?”

Zhenming shook his head, saying nothing.

Yang Ning grew bored waiting. When it was their turn, a fat monk with a rough face served them. He glanced at Zhenming, ladled just half a bowl of rice into his bowl, threw in a few vegetables, then gestured for Yang Ning to step forward.

Frowning, Yang Ning said, “Brother, isn’t this too little food? Can he even eat like this?”

His voice wasn’t loud, but attracted attention; some looked over.

Zhenming tugged Yang Ning’s sleeve and whispered cautiously, “It’s enough,” signaling him to keep quiet.

Yang Ning’s face darkened. He set the bowl on the windowsill and fetched a larger bowl. The fat monk scooped a tiny rice ball with two vegetable stalks on top, waved his ladle, signaling Yang Ning to move on.

Yang Ning crossed his arms, staring at the fat monk.

The monk’s voice grew coarse. “Move aside. Do you want those behind you to eat or not?”

Yang Ning replied, “Whether those behind eat or not is not important now. I’m asking you—what is this about? I saw others with bowls piled high, but mine barely fills half a bowl. I have a big appetite. Add more.”

The fat monk sneered, “Don’t want to eat?”

Yang Ning said, “Of course I want to eat, but this is not enough. Add some more.”

The monk put down the ladle, crossed his arms, appraised Yang Ning, and asked, “Are you new here?”

“When I came up the mountain is none of your business,” Yang Ning said. “I’m here to eat, and this food won’t fill me.”

“When did you get to decide on the Five Grains Hall?” The monk’s tone turned cold. “Eat or don’t eat, just leave now.”

Yang Ning was angry. “You’re a monk. Can’t you speak politely? I’m not asking for much. If you’re in charge here, you should make sure people get enough to eat.”

“Cut the nonsense,” the fat monk pointed at Yang Ning. “Are you leaving or not? No one has ever dared cause trouble here in the Five Grains Hall.”

“Sorry, no one spoke up before because they didn’t want to argue with you,” Yang Ning sneered. “But I have a bad temper. The Buddha teaches equality among all beings. You’re a disciple of Buddha, so how can you act like this? Some have bowls piled high and waste food, while others can’t fill their stomachs. Is this equality?”

Zhenming hurried over and said to the fat monk, “Brother, this is Junior Brother Ning. He’s new and doesn’t know the temple rules yet. You...”

“It’s the Five Grains Hall,” the fat monk interrupted. “He has no say here. He’s your junior brother? Oh, a new disciple of Master Jingchun? Listen well—you two will get the same portion every meal from now on. If you don’t like it, go complain.”

At that moment, a voice called, “Who’s making a commotion here?” A tall monk in his thirties approached, with a long face and cold eyes.

“Senior Brother Zhenbi!” Zhenming quickly said. “This is Junior Brother Ning. He...”

Zhenbi raised his hand, cutting off Zhenming, and scrutinized Yang Ning. “Are you the one causing trouble here?”

“Trouble?” Yang Ning stared at Zhenbi. “You’re mistaken. I came to eat. Someone’s being unfair, so I spoke up. It’s that simple. I didn’t know that made me a troublemaker.”

Zhenbi glanced at Yang Ning’s bowl and sneered. With a wave, he slammed the bowl onto the ground, shattering it into pieces, scattering the meager food everywhere.