Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Three Eminent Monks of Shaolin

The next morning, after breakfast, Abbot Kongwen approached Yuanye and his companions, saying, “Young Master Yuan, today you will be exchanging martial skills with several esteemed elders of our monastery. Please follow this old monk.”

“Yes, Abbot, please lead the way,” Yuanye replied, rising to his feet.

As they were about to depart, Yuanye noticed that all the young monks who had dined with them earlier were now filing out, leaving behind only three or four elderly monks.

Seeing this, Yuanye immediately guessed Abbot Kongwen’s intention: “It seems he fears that if the Three Eminences of Shaolin are defeated again, the younger monks will lose their courage and their sense of belonging to Shaolin.”

Such thoughts did not trouble Yuanye. He had traveled the martial world for years, fought countless battles, and well knew how reputation in the pugilist world was often valued above life itself.

Abbot Kongwen led the way, with the sage monk Kongxing walking beside Yuanye. Behind them followed Xiong Ba, and Zhao Fan, who trailed quietly like a shadow. The last were the five elderly monks, all with snow-white hair and beards, their figures bent with age.

Yuanye had seen these old monks the previous day; they were elders of Shaolin. Because of their age and martial skill—lesser than that of the four great monks of Shaolin—they had not participated in the duel yesterday.

As for Xiong Wu, he did not come along. That morning, he had clamored to watch the match, but Yuanye saw that his breathing was still weak and refused him. When Xiong Wu began to throw a tantrum, Xiong Ba, unable to bear it, dragged him back to his room and gave him another beating. At this moment, Xiong Wu nursed his swollen face and tended his wounds in his room.

After walking along the mountain path for a while, they left the monastery, heading north for a hundred paces before turning left, making their way toward a small peak.

“It seems the Three Eminences of Shaolin truly do not practice within the monastery. I wonder if this is the mountain where they later imprisoned the Golden-Haired Lion King, Xie Xun,” Yuanye thought as he gazed at the peak ahead.

Everyone in the group was highly skilled in martial arts, so climbing the mountain posed no challenge. Before long, they neared the summit.

Rounding a small hollow, they found themselves beside a vast vertical cliff, at least a hundred feet tall—craggy rocks, perilous and imposing.

Passing the edge of the cliff, they arrived at the summit: a bare, flat expanse, without a single dwelling, only three tall pine trees arranged in a character formation, their branches piercing the sky, twisting like dragons.

Seeing the summit so empty, with no sign of houses or people, Xiong Ba was puzzled. “Where could the Shaolin elders who are to duel the young master be? Can they vanish into the earth?” he wondered.

Zhao Fan, as always, kept his gaze fixed on Yuanye, unaffected by anything else around him.

Yuanye, however, was not surprised, for he had already sensed three faint, elusive presences.

Abbot Kongwen stepped into the center of the clearing, bowed deeply toward the three pine trees, and announced, “Greetings, three honored uncles. The young master of Wudang, Yuan, has arrived. He wishes to learn from Shaolin’s martial arts. I ask that you represent Shaolin in this contest.”

A cold snort echoed from within one of the pine trees.

In that moment, Yuanye and his companions saw that there were people within the trees. The trunks of the two diagonally opposite pines were hollowed out, each just large enough for a man to sit. In each hollow sat an old monk.

The monk in the northeast hollow had a dark, iron-like face; the one in the northwest looked sallow, like withered wood; the one due south was deathly pale, like paper. All three had sunken cheeks, their bodies gaunt and emaciated.

As Yuanye and his companions observed them, the three monks were also sizing them up. After a moment, the sallow-faced monk snorted again and said to Abbot Kongwen, “Nephew Kongwen, ever since Nephew Kongjian was killed by that villain Xie Xun, you have all declined day by day. Now you even require us to intervene.”

He ignored the abbot’s discomfort and turned his gaze to Xiong Ba. “This must be the young master of Wudang, disciple of Master Zhang. Truly impressive skills.”

Xiong Ba looked from the Shaolin monks to Yuanye, bewildered. Why was this old monk mistaking him for the young master?

The truth was that the sallow-faced monk, possessing profound internal strength and mastery of Buddhism, had sensed the surging, domineering energy within Xiong Ba—a force even greater than that of Abbot Kongwen. Thus, he had mistaken him for Yuanye.

Abbot Kongwen’s embarrassment deepened, but he could only force an explanation. “Uh… Master Uncle, this is not Young Master Yuan. This is Xiong Ba, a subordinate of Young Master Yuan.”

“Oh? You are not? Then who is Yuanye of Wudang?” Before the sallow-faced monk could speak, the iron-faced monk’s eyes bulged wide as he scanned Yuanye and the others, asking loudly.

Yuanye stepped forward to stand beside Abbot Kongwen and bowed. “Disciple of Wudang, Yuanye, pays his respects to the three venerable monks.”

“You are Zhang Sanfeng’s disciple, Yuanye? Impossible! You have no trace of internal strength!” The iron-faced monk swept his gaze over Yuanye, incredulous.

“Amitabha! So that is the case. We have indeed been like frogs at the bottom of a well. Who would have thought Young Master Yuan’s skills have reached such a realm, breaking free from the shackles of heaven and earth!” the sallow-faced monk suddenly declared in a clear voice.

“Is that truly what you mean, Senior Brother?” The pale-faced monk, who had been silent until now, spoke in disbelief.

Yet his words were left unfinished, leaving Abbot Kongwen and the Shaolin monks bewildered.

“Exactly so. Truly, the young surpass the old! Master Zhang is extraordinary—not only has he himself broken the bonds of heaven and earth, but now even his disciple has far surpassed us,” the sallow-faced monk sighed, his face clouding with melancholy.

“So this is the realm of acquired enlightenment—becoming one with nature, heaven and earth bend to the will. No wonder I thought you an ordinary man, devoid of all presence,” the iron-faced monk murmured, half to Yuanye, half to himself.

At this, the sallow-faced monk solemnly returned Yuanye’s salute and said in a resounding voice, “Young Master Yuan, my respects. This old monk’s Dharma name is Du’e. This pale-faced junior is Du Jie, and the dark-faced junior is Du Nan.”

“It is truly our good fortune to meet you today. Only now do we see the path ahead clearly—what a joy it is.”

The pale-faced monk continued, “This old monk, Du Jie, greets Young Master Yuan. It seems you have already crossed into the acquired realm, a talent rarely seen in this world. May I ask, what level has your master, Master Zhang, reached?”

After a brief pause, Yuanye replied, “Honored master, when I left the mountain three years ago, my master’s realm had already surpassed my current attainments.”

“Innate! So it is the innate stage!” The iron-faced monk, now recovered from his shock, muttered dejectedly.

“Indeed, and as far as I estimate, my master had already achieved the innate realm long before he accepted me as a disciple,” Yuanye confirmed.

Hearing this, the three old monks exchanged stunned glances, their hearts a tumult of emotions. Decades of arduous cultivation had brought them not only deep martial skill but profound Buddhist insight as well.

Yet now, to learn that Zhang Sanfeng of Wudang had broken into the innate realm more than ten years past, while the three of them, after thirty years of bitter meditation, had only just brushed the threshold of the acquired realm.

Especially as Zhang Sanfeng’s disciple had now reached the acquired realm himself, soon to break through to the innate.

Shaolin and Wudang had always stood as the twin pillars of the martial world, with Shaolin long regarding Wudang’s founder, Zhang Sanfeng, as having derived his skills from Shaolin, and thus holding Wudang in lesser regard.

But however profound the Buddhist attainment of the Three Eminences of Shaolin, this revelation left their minds reeling and their hearts wavering, their long-cultivated tranquility shaken to its core.