There is a wooden frame at the head of the bed, on which hang a towel, a strip of black cloth, and two old clothes of coarse cloth.
Li Muchan wiped his bald head with a towel and changed into a pair of gray coarse cloth clothes. Although they were washed white, they were very comfortable to wear.
He took off his shoes, sat cross-legged on the hardwood bed, sat cross-legged, made a mudra with his hands in front of his navel, closed his eyes and calmed down, motionless like a statue.
Breathing gradually slows down, becomes thinner, and becomes deeper, like silk, and continuous, like tough silk.
Under the illumination of the fire, his serious face gradually softened, revealing a slight smile, with a solemn and kind expression, vaguely similar to the Buddha statue in the temple.
His breathing became thinner and lighter, until it stopped completely. His chest was rising and falling, but there was no sound of breathing. The cave was quiet, and occasionally a torch made a "pop" sound.
In silence, time passes, and an hour passes.
His eyes slowly opened, and his eyes were exceptionally clear, like the spring water on the mountainside. His breathing resumed, and his hands drew several arcs in front of him, and slowly returned to his navel.
Then, he stretched out his right hand, pulled out a throwing knife from the bedside, and stared at the wall ten meters away. There were numerous pits and pits there.
Looking at this wall, he felt very proud. He dug this cave by himself, bit by bit, and it took him three years to dig it in one go. As the cave grew bigger, so did his strength.
His temperament has also become calmer and calmer, which can be said to be a blessing in disguise.
His posture when holding the throwing knife was very strange. He held it down with his thumb, the blade of the knife was completely attached to the palm of his hand, and his palm was facing down. Others could not see the existence of the throwing knife.
He stared at a certain spot on the wall, his whole body motionless, except for his chest rising and falling slightly, and his breathing even and slow.
His right hand suddenly trembled, and a cold light flashed in the air. It disappeared quickly, and then there was a muffled "bang" sound, like a hammer hitting a wall.
The flying knife in his right hand was missing and was embedded in the wall ten meters away. Half of the blade was sunk into the wall and half was exposed.
He frowned, and slowly picked up a flying knife. After concentrating, he fired it again. After a flash of cold light, the flying knife shot into the stone wall.
Then, he fired eight more knives, and the ten flying knives were arranged in a circle on the wall, very neatly.
But he shook his head, sighed, as if he was not satisfied, got off the bed, pulled out all ten throwing knives, inserted them back into the bedside, and picked up the iron rod.
He held the iron rod in his right hand, spread his legs slightly, moved forward and back, and stabbed forward fiercely at an extremely fast speed, making a soft "chi" sound, like the sound of clothes being torn.
Once, again, and again, he repeated this action monotonously, thrusting forward, thrusting forward, thrusting forward non-stop, as if it were a machine.
One moment was heavier than the next, the other was faster than the next. Gradually, the movement could not be seen clearly. All I could see was a shadow of the stick filling the air. The air was like a piece of cloth being pierced by the stick, and the sound became louder and louder.
He seemed to be practicing with a spear or a sword. He stabbed nearly a thousand times, then stopped suddenly, put down the iron rod, and wiped his forehead with a towel.
For a while, his forehead was covered with a layer of sweat, and his breathing was still even, neither rough nor panting.
Hanging up the towel, he began to assume a posture, with his legs shoulder-width apart, his palms on both sides of his thighs, his palms pressed down, and his breathing became heavier and heavier.
This is a set of fitness skills he learned from later generations, called Twelve Dajin. He saw it on the Internet. He tried practicing it and persisted for a month, and it had quite a physical effect.
The martial arts in this world are extremely precious and are kept secret. The second sister Li Yurong became a disciple of the Snow Seal God Ni and wanted to teach him martial arts privately, but he did not agree. Privately revealing the martial arts would be enough to drive him out of the door and abolish the martial arts.
He began to practice the Twelve Great Strengths when he was five years old. Although his body was five years old, his intelligence was that of forty. He carefully studied and verified with the Buddha's teachings, and gradually realized the essence of the Twelve Great Strengths. Unknowingly,
He actually developed a magical power.
He was also puzzled. He didn't know whether it was because he had practiced hard since he was a child and had perfected his skills, or because his meditation skills were deep and his energy channels throughout his body were smooth. He thought that he probably had both.
When he was five years old, he had already started practicing Kung Fu. In addition to meditating every day and practicing Zen Kung Fu intensively, he also practiced the twelve major powers, flying knives, and forward thrusts.
Suddenly, twelve years have passed, and I have entered the root of Zen through meditation. I have escaped from the realm of desire and entered the realm of color. My mind is clear, my chanting is as clear as a pearl, my twelve great powers have been achieved, my power is infinite, and my flying knife is also extremely accurate.
, only this front thorn, he was not satisfied with.
He had seen the second sister's moves, which were really fast as lightning and could not be seen clearly with the naked eye. Although he was extremely powerful and had practiced hard for more than ten years, he was still a little behind the second sister.
But it was not useless. He easily knocked down the two robbers a while ago. Because it was the first time he attacked someone, he failed to control his strength and stabbed one person to death.
Fortunately, the Mei family is powerful, and the eldest brother is also the deputy deacon in the family, so he has considerable power. He has established connections with everyone and can escape safely. Otherwise, he would inevitably end up in jail.
After this incident, he changed his mind and felt that no matter how strong his meditation skills were, he still needed to practice martial arts if he wanted to protect himself.
After looking at the iron rod for a while, he put it down and put on a gray monk's robe.
Then he put out the torch and came out of the cave, found a piece of sycamore tree, sighed, and said in a low voice: "Everyone lives a lifetime, like flowers and trees that wither and flourish, they are all in the cycle of reincarnation."
Seeing this, Li Muchan comforted him with a gentle voice: "Master, what's the joy of life, what's the fear of death, why should we keep it in our heart?"
"I have lived for sixty years. One sixty years is enough." Master Jikong looked at the window and sighed, with a smile on his lips.
Li Muchan stepped forward and opened the window.
A stream of fresh air rushed to his face, as if it had penetrated into the pores all over his body. His depressed chest suddenly felt relieved, and his nausea was washed away. There was a light fishy smell in the air, which smelled particularly good.
The drizzle kept falling, and it was like a curtain was hung outside the window. Master Jikong stared blankly at the rain curtain, and his smile became even brighter: "Master Zhanran, I have reached the end of my life and I have to leave."
Li Muchan was startled and turned around to look: "Master..."
Master Jikong shook his head and smiled slightly: "I have been practicing cultivation for half my life, but I have wasted no time. Since I got sick, my realm has greatly improved, and I can leave freely... because of an unresolved matter, I am still in love with this world."
Li Muchan said: "Master, if you have something on your mind, if you have anything to do, just follow your instructions."
Master Jikong smiled and sighed: "It is God's will to meet Master Zhanran!"
He was covered in malignant sores and the stench was so bad that he lay in Jinyang City for two days with no one paying attention to him. Only Zhanran could ignore his disgust. Without a compassionate heart, it would have been difficult to do this.
What’s even more rare is that this monk Zhanran’s Buddhist practice is as profound as his own. Such a person must be the reincarnation of a great Buddhist master.
Master Jikong took out a thin book from his arms and put it gently on the bed: "This scripture on the light of gods, humans and gods was acquired by me accidentally, but it has never been able to get in. Master Zhanran, you are extremely wise.
, you can understand it once or twice, but it may not be impossible to understand it."
Li Muchan looked confused.
Master Jikong combined the tithes and said slowly: "Lao Na was originally a disciple of Daleiyin Temple. He was expelled from the temple for breaking the precepts and abandoned his cultivation. His only long-cherished wish is that his ashes can be returned to the pagoda of Daleiyin Temple...
I also hope that Master Zhanran will make it come true."
Li Muchan asked: "Da Leiyin Temple?...Where is it?"
Master Jikong smiled and shook his head. His eyes were no longer calm. Melancholy, annoyance, pride, yearning, and enthusiasm flashed one by one, as if he was facing the appearance of the Buddha.
"Master...?" Li Muchan felt something was wrong.
"It can't be said, it can't be said..." Master Jikong shook his head and smiled, his eyes suddenly brightened up, as if two bolts of lightning were shooting out, and then a red light enveloped his body, making it dazzling.
Li Muchan closed his eyes, and as if the red light was about to pierce his eyes, there was still a red light flashing in front of him, like a flame jumping happily.
After a while, the red light slowly receded and the room returned to normal.
He slowly opened his eyes, and there was no one on the cloud bed. There was only a string of red sandalwood beads and a few warm objects, the size of dragon eyes, shaped like agate, and the brilliance was flowing.
Li Muchan sighed and shook his head. He did not expect Master Jikong to be in such a hurry to enter death.
These are his relics, just like the ashes of ordinary people. The six relics are shining brightly. It seems that Master Jikong's Zen skills are good.
Li Muchan didn't show his surprise. He had seen this kind of situation when his master passed away. It was the same when the Zen practice reached a certain level. If it goes deeper and reaches the next level, it can turn into a rainbow light and disappear completely, leaving nothing behind.