Chapter 103: The Shaolin Temple Song

Zhao Yuan Kui had been staying at Shaolin Temple for nearly half a month. During this period, every night, pitiful cries would emanate from the Wanfo Pagoda, resembling the sorrowful cries of a cuckoo, a sound that would bring sadness to anyone who heard it.

Although his cold poison had almost been completely eliminated, Zhao Yuan Kui had developed a certain fear of Master Huo Yuanzhen. Every time he saw the abbot, his legs would go weak, and he instinctively wanted to walk away. Whenever he went to the Wanfo Pagoda for treatment, he would hesitate at the door, not wanting to enter. Only when Master Huo Yuanzhen yelled at him would he tremble and obediently walk inside.

Sometimes, Zhao Yuan Kui thought to himself, "I am a prince. If my wounds heal, I could very well be the future emperor. Why should I be afraid of this abbot?"

But every time he faced Huo Yuanzhen, the courage he managed to muster would be crushed by the terrifying healing techniques the abbot used. He couldn't tell whether Master Huo was a half-baked doctor or something more sinister, but the intense heat of his fingers seemed as though they would burn him alive. Just thinking about the hellish torment would cause Zhao Yuan Kui to wake up in fright, worried that the abbot's methods had left him with an irreversible injury.

Last night, after enduring the torture again, Zhao Yuan Kui found himself covered in scorched marks as he struggled to dress. Because the Pure Yang Finger technique was so destructive, his clothes would often catch fire, so he had taken to treating his injuries without wearing clothes.

When he did wear clothing, Master Huo had told him that the cold poison had been completely eradicated and that he wouldn't need to come for treatment the next night. Zhao Yuan Kui was stunned for a moment, then carefully checked his body, and indeed, the cold sensation had vanished.

Given the intense suffering he had endured over the past few days, he had been cursing the abbot to die every day and had completely forgotten about the cold poison. To his surprise, it was gone!

At first, Zhao Yuan Kui had planned to immediately curse the abbot out and leave Shaolin once his wounds healed. However, when the time came, he found himself with no such desire. Instead, all that remained was awe and gratitude.

So, although he was supposed to leave today, he chose to stay for one more day.

Dressed in a white scholar's robe and holding a white paper fan, Zhao Yuan Kui looked like a refined young master. The only issue was that his hair was a bit messy. His hair had been scorched in several places, and he had to tie it up haphazardly with a cloth band.

He didn't bring Xiao Shunzi with him but wandered alone through the Shaolin Temple.

Having spent nearly half a month here, he had become very familiar with the place. It was early in the morning, the bell tower hadn't rung, and the temple doors were still closed, with no pilgrims in sight. The monks were reciting scriptures for morning class, and the martial monks had gone out for their morning run, likely heading toward the Drinking Horse Lake.

Shaolin monks were early risers, especially the martial monks, who would go out to practice martial arts before dawn.

Zhao Yuan Kui decided to follow them and watch the spectacle.

He walked ahead, shaking his fan, and soon encountered the old monk who was sweeping the grounds. The old monk didn't seem to do anything other than sweep every day, as if he was eternally occupied with the task. Since the temple was large and had many trees, leaves fell continuously. One time, Zhao Yuan Kui had seen the old monk sweeping non-stop and couldn't help but tell him, "With so many leaves in the temple, when will you ever finish sweeping? Why not wait for the autumn to pass, and then clean up everything at once?"

Unexpectedly, the old monk replied, "I am not sweeping the ground, I am sweeping my own heart."

From that day on, Zhao Yuan Kui stopped speaking to the old monk, believing that the monk was a bit unhinged.

With the abbot, a devil of a bald-headed man, leading the temple, none of the monks seemed completely sane.

So, when he saw the sweeping monk again, Zhao Yuan Kui simply ignored him and walked toward the back mountain.

Master Huo Yuanzhen was in a good mood today. He had successfully driven away that annoying prince and cured him of his cold poison, fulfilling Ning Wanjun's wish.

He had woken up early, eager to observe the martial monks practicing their fists.

Today was September 27th, just three days before the Henan Province Martial Arts Conference. Tomorrow was the lottery, and Master Huo planned to head to Songshan Sect right after it.

Although Shaolin Temple wasn't far from Songshan Sect, only a few hundred miles, Master Huo didn't want to rush. He preferred to leave early and learn more about the situation in advance.

With these thoughts in mind, he found that practicing didn't yield good results, so he decided to watch the martial monks practice instead.

After getting up early, the Shaolin martial monks finished their morning rituals and started their usual routine: running from the Luohan Hall all the way to the Drinking Horse Lake. This was a habit they had long established.

Though it was already autumn, the physical demand was still high, and the martial monks wore thin clothing. Over forty martial monks, including Hui Wu, Hui Niu, and Hui Jian, wore light robes made of silk from Shaolin's silk shop.

Hui Wu, as the abbot's chief disciple, led the group, with Hui Niu and Hui Jian at his sides.

"Rest!"

The monks performed synchronized movements, stretching one leg out.

"Stand at attention!"

With a loud crash, all the monks stood perfectly still.

"Align right!"

The entire group immediately formed into a neat line.

"Turn right, begin running!"

The three leaders at the front, Hui Wu, Hui Niu, and Hui Jian, turned together, and the rest followed suit, heading toward the back mountain.

As they ran, Hui Wu shouted in rhythm.

"Ya! Ya! Ya-er-ya!"

This was the marching chant that Master Huo had taught him, as Shaolin martial monks followed a military-style regimen.

Though Master Huo had originally taught him to say "One, one, two, one," Hui Wu had a slight accent, so what came out was "Ya! Ya! Ya-er-ya!" But his voice was loud and full of energy, and his rhythm was sharp, making the monks march with great discipline and increasing speed.

It was only five or six miles from the Shaolin back gate to the Drinking Horse Lake, and it took them only about ten minutes to reach their destination. They were all covered in sweat, and once they arrived, they stretched and warmed up, preparing to practice their fists.

Just as they finished their run, Master Huo Yuanzhen arrived.

"Abbot!"

All the monks greeted him in unison.

Master Huo waved his hand in acknowledgment and then addressed the group.

"My dear monks," he began, "Shaolin is a new establishment. Most of you have joined not long ago, and the world is in turmoil. War is imminent. The question now is how to protect our Shaolin Temple in such a chaotic time."

He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing.

"Shaolin is a Buddhist temple, yes, but it is also a martial sect. What will we rely on to protect ourselves? Our Buddhist teachings? Our followers? No, it's our martial power, our fists, our staffs, our swords and spears!"

Looking around, he saw that all the monks were listening attentively. He went on, "Shaolin is based on kindness and righteousness, but we must also be strong. We must protect our home at all costs. Those who dare to destroy our sanctuary will face the consequences!"

The monks, eager and passionate about their martial arts, couldn't help but clap in support.

Master Huo raised his hands to quiet them. "A true temple must have unity and a common belief. We have our faith in Buddhism, but we need more. We need cohesion, and we must rise together!"

One of the monks, Hui Jian, asked, "Abbot, how do we increase our cohesion?"

Master Huo thought for a moment. "We'll sing!"

The monks looked at each other, confused. What did singing have to do with martial arts?

But this had been part of Master Huo's plan all along. Every nation has a national anthem, and even groups like the Young Pioneers have their own songs. For Shaolin, it was time to have one too.

He then instructed the monks to form a circle by the lakeside and began demonstrating the song. Master Huo, full of energy, began singing and guiding the monks, directing them on when to hit the high notes and when to emphasize certain parts with strong gestures.

It took about an hour for them to learn the Shaolin Temple Song, and just as they were preparing to perform it, Master Huo spotted Zhao Yuan Kui walking toward them from a distance. He decided to let him watch and perhaps spread the word about Shaolin's new anthem back in Chang'an.

"Ready!" Hui Wu called out, and the monks quickly lined up in five rows.

"Remember the lessons the Abbot taught you! Practice your fists, and keep the song in perfect harmony! Anyone who makes a mistake won't get lunch!"

"Yes!" they shouted in unison.

"Good, prepare for horse stance!"

As Hui Wu led the way, all the monks fell into stance, and with a signal from Master Huo, they punched in perfect unison.

And then, the Shaolin Temple Song rang out across the mountains, echoing through the air!