The young monk Mingxin flew into a rage at these words and roared, "Great blasphemy! You dare to insult the Buddha!"
Qin Mu smiled. His heart settled into utter calm, and his eyes held supreme confidence. Whatever the young monk's strength, whatever his arts, he had already lost the battle of the mind!
Across from Old Ma, the old monk wavered in doubt. That sentence of Qin Mu's seemed lawless beyond measure—not merely an insult to the Buddha, but to the gods and demons alike. Yet to his ears it was no blasphemy, but the truest of truths.
He who has no Buddha in his heart may yet become a Buddha. He who keeps a Buddha in his heart can never become one. He who has no demon in his heart may yet become a demon. He who keeps a demon in his heart can never become one.
Mingxin's realm was not yet high enough to grasp such words; the old monk, by contrast, grasped them all too well. He had only come to understand them after stepping into the realm of Heaven and Man—and even now, cultivated as he was to the realm of Life and Death, he still could not shatter the Buddha in his heart. The deeper one's cultivation, the more dreadful gods and demons seem, the vaster the Tathagata.
To know is easy; to act is hard. That such a truth should fall from the mouth of this urchin Qin Mu seemed absurd beyond measure. Stranger still, this little boy claimed he had shattered the god and Buddha within his own heart! He was far too young to have plumbed its meaning—and if he had not, how could he have broken what sat inside him? To shatter the god and Buddha in one's heart takes bitter cultivation, takes sudden enlightenment. Without them, the Buddha stays a Buddha, the demon stays a demon.
"Regardless," the old monk told himself, "he has not received the true secret arts of my Great Thunderclap Monastery. However lofty his state of mind, he cannot be a match for Mingxin."
The old monk kept his eyes on his nose and his nose on his heart, as though he had entered meditation, heedless of who would win or lose the fight above.
On the stage, a faint golden light began to seep from Mingxin's tall, gaunt frame. This young monk gave one the sense that he truly was a Buddha—sacred, solemn, vast, pressing upon one's spirit with an unutterable weight!
Below the stage, men, women, the old and the young of every village had been drawn over, and the clamor had swelled to a boil. Yet the instant golden light broke across Mingxin's skin, every voice died at once, silent as the grave.
They all fell quiet in the same heartbeat, as though struck by a blow to the head—a sharp awakening!
This was the heart-method of the Buddhist faith: the Tathagata Mahayana Sutra.
The path of this heart-method was unlike that of other sects. It cultivated from the surface inward. The surface was the body—the body-Tathagata; the inward was the mind—the mind-Tathagata. The Buddhist faith named them body-Tathagata and mind-Tathagata.
Mingxin had only reached the outermost layer of the body-Tathagata, yet once the Buddha countenance appeared, it could strike a sharp awakening straight into a man!
Grandma Si and the others grew tense anew. Mingxin had not yet lifted a hand, but this bearing alone could cow Qin Mu into submission and quench his will to fight.
Ask yourself: who would dare strike a Buddha?
But Qin Mu would!
Qin Mu joined body and heart, heart and will, will and fist, fist and qi, qi and body; at the same moment his Spirit Womb moved in concert with his flesh, body merging with spirit, and he unleashed the Nine Dragons Reining Wind and Thunder!
His footwork was the Cripple's Heaven-Thieving Leg Arts, swift beyond measure—before Mingxin could blink, Qin Mu was before him; before Mingxin could raise a hand, that vast and mighty fist crashed into his chest!
In this move, the Nine Dragons Reining Wind and Thunder, nine layers of force lurked within a single fist. The first layer struck like a fire-dragon from the fist's eye, slamming into Mingxin's heart with a deafening clang.
The golden light on Mingxin's skin flared bright, and a great golden bell faintly took shape about him.
Qin Mu's second layer followed close after—the Twin Dragon Twist. Two draconic forces twisted around each other and dove toward the hollow of Mingxin's heart!
Clang—
Another bell note. The two forces had come too fast; both chimes rang almost in unison, shaking the ears!
Then came the third layer of the Nine Dragons, the Three Dragons' Stone-Shattering Force, and after it the fourth, the Four Dragons Pouncing to Kill, then the fifth, the Five Dragons Refining Demons Force, the sixth, the Six Dragons Turning the Wheel of Rebirth, and the seventh, the Seven Dragons Overturning the Sea!
Seven layers burst in one continuous cascade, seven bell notes ringing as one. The great golden bell on Mingxin's skin finally dimmed, forcing the tall, gaunt young monk back a step.
The eighth layer, the Eightfold Heavenly Dragons Force, erupted; Mingxin retreated once more, and the golden bell about him rekindled its light. Then Qin Mu's ninth layer, the Nine Dragons Wind and Thunder, burst forth, and the golden bell shattered with a crash!
Qin Mu was astonished. Even the demon ape could not withstand the full nine layers of the Nine Dragons Reining Wind and Thunder; whenever Qin Mu sparred with it, he would hold at the sixth or seventh layer lest he kill or maim the beast. Yet this Mingxin neither dodged nor evaded—he had withstood the complete nine layers intact!
Heedless now, Qin Mu had told himself this time there would be no holding back. He had thrown his full strength into it, even calling upon the power of his Spirit Womb divine treasury—and all it had done was drive Mingxin back a few steps.
"You have not received the true transmission of the Eight Thunder Moves."
Mingxin shifted his feet, qi exploding from their soles—the speed was tremendous—and raised a palm. Thunder burst forth, a fist came roaring, and it gave off the howl of a dragon!
Rumble—
Before the fist even reached Qin Mu, his qi took shape as a green dragon—faint, but savage and fierce, overbearing beyond measure!
The first layer of the Nine Dragons Reining Wind and Thunder: he had made his qi manifest it, given it form. Clearly his qi ran deep as well—and, more crucially, he possessed the heart-method that fit the Eight Thunder Moves perfectly. That was precisely what Qin Mu lacked!
Qin Mu met the blow head-on and felt that this first layer was strangely strong. Yet before he had fully ridden it out, the second layer came knocking—the Twin Dragon Twist, two draconic qi interweaving until they bent Qin Mu's arms out of shape, and then the third, the Three Dragons' Stone-Shattering Force, slammed straight onto both his forearms!
Blood leapt from Qin Mu's arms. Shifting his feet, he gave ground again and again, stomping the stage until stones flew.
Four blasts of draconic qi came pouncing to kill. Qin Mu grunted, forcing his qi into both eyes. The Shenxiao Heavenly Eye snapped open at once, and his qi took form as a long spear in his hand. Spear leveled, he thrust, threading between the four pouncing dragons, and with a clink planted the point in Mingxin's palm. The young monk's Five Dragons Refining Demons Force had not yet erupted when that thrust scattered his qi to the wind. The two forces collided, and the spear of qi in Qin Mu's hand burst apart too.
Qin Mu's brow twitched. He looked at Mingxin's hand: a drop of blood threaded its way down a fingertip. That strike had pierced his palm. Of course, Qin Mu's arms were a gore of torn flesh—his wounds ran far deeper.
Qin Mu drew a long breath. His qi turned blazing fierce, and he shot toward Mingxin.
Bearing the Spring Thunder across the Eastern Sea Alone!
This time he used not the water's aspect, but fire's—as though a billowing river of flame poured down from heaven, racing into the sea, to set the very ocean alight!
The young monk Mingxin was unmoved. He raised his palm to meet it, his eyes aglow: "Without the heart-method, all this is but an empty shell."
He too was using Bearing the Spring Thunder across the Eastern Sea Alone—the instant his palm stirred, thunder burst from its center. One crack of thunder, and it shattered its target's spirit; as the sound rolled out, Qin Mu's blazing, desperate aura collapsed outright!
At that very moment, though, flame kindled on Qin Mu's hands. Hands for blades, he hacked down at Mingxin like a madman!
The pig-butchering blade art: Sunrise Over the Eastern Sea, a Thousand Rolling Waves!
It was a move of utter frenzy. The butcher's blade art simply could not reach its full power unless one went mad—it demanded the momentum of a great sun rising, a thousand waves piling over the Eastern Sea, a blade that cut through everything, hacked everything to bits!
Hack! Hack! Hack! Hack! Hack!
Then Mingxin's expression shifted a shade. But Qin Mu frowned, too, for he saw the move the young monk was about to make—the eighth of the Eight Thunder Moves, the Thousand-Hand Buddha! Mingxin met his blade-hand with a palm, like a thousand-handed Buddha, blocking his mad sword!
Qin Mu's heart sank. His hand was not a true blade—he was hacking with hand as blade—and Mingxin's defense was formidable; cutting through his palm would be no easy task.
"Then fast! Faster! Faster, until you cannot catch my blades! Fending Off a Fortress Rained With Swords at Night!"
Qin Mu went stark mad, hacking without cease. Only one thought filled his heart: fast, fast, fast—a blade swift enough to behead a Buddha!
"In all this world, no pig was ever born that the pig-butchering blade art cannot kill!" His qi rampaging, Qin Mu spat with fierce malice.
Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang—
Mingxin blocked in frenzy with the Thousand-Hand Buddha, until suddenly a blade slipped through and slashed his throat; the great bell about him burst with a single toll. Then the second blade broke through his thousand-armed defense, striking the same spot on his throat—another bell note.
The third, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth!
Blade after blade, faster and faster, Qin Mu cut relentlessly at one and the same place: the throat.
"Senior Brother, in the old days you and I studied as fellow disciples and knew each other well. Your Thousand-Hand Buddha has a flaw."
Across from the old monk, Old Ma said mildly, "And it seems you passed that flaw on to your disciple."