I Can Replicate Martial Arts-Chapter 173 - 93: Fragmentary - of Sword Intent

Chapter 173: Chapter 93: Fragmentary Chapter of Sword Intent

Emei Mountain has been one of Huaxia’s most famous and sacred mountains since ancient times.

The mountain is home to many Taoist and Zen temples. Their traditions are ancient and their halls are filled with the smoke of incense, with the oldest dating back to the Tang and Song Dynasties.

Among them, the most famous is the Emei Sect.

Since the flourishing of the Martial Dao, the great masters of the Emei Sect painstakingly gathered the lost works of their predecessors. With the help of once-in-a-generation talents and after more than a decade of effort, they finally brought Emei Martial Arts back into the world.

Although the Emei Sect is a Buddhist Sect, it does not bar disciples from the Mortal World. As a result, many lay disciples focus solely on the study of Martial Arts.

Over time, this group of lay disciples grew into a faction whose power was on par with the main Emei Sect itself.

And because the disciples were predominantly female and possessed superb Swordsmanship, outsiders came to call this lay faction the Emei Sword Sect!

From that day forward, the Emei Sect became a magnificent and renowned power in the world, with two distinct faces.

Zhao Rui listened in as a few other attendees in the rest area recounted the long history of the Emei Sect.

He couldn’t help but think of Bai Xuening. ’I wonder if she joined the Buddhist Sect or the Sword Sect?’

’If it’s the Buddhist Sect...!’

An image of Bai Xuening with a clean-shaven head and a gentle smile on her pretty face involuntarily appeared in his mind.

"Er..."

Zhao Rui muttered "Amitabha Buddha" and quickly banished the stray thoughts from his mind.

After everyone had waited in the rest area for about ten minutes, the Guest Monk returned and politely invited them to board the vehicle to begin their ascent up the mountain.

This was only possible because of modern conveniences. In the past, they would have certainly had to make the journey on foot.

Everyone boarded the bus and traveled along the winding mountain road toward the summit.

The Emei Mountain Range was vast, and the scenery along the way was exceptionally beautiful, especially in the warmth of spring when the flowers were in bloom.

Peering through the bus window, they could see towering green peaks cleaving through the clouds, like a mythical green luan bird spreading its wings to shatter the heavens.

A sea of clouds surged between the mountains, and the rosy sunlight cast a glow that reflected what looked like tens of thousands of golden lotuses, a truly captivating sight.

The bus drove for over half an hour before stopping at a parking lot halfway up the mountain.

Two monks with shaved heads immediately came forward, put their palms together in a gesture of respect, and chanted, "Namo Amitabha Buddha!"

"Benefactors, you have had a long journey. From here, vehicles can go no further. You must follow this humble monk up the mountain path..."

"You’re too kind, Monk. It’s just a mountain path. No trouble at all."

One of the visitors declared loudly.

"You should call him ’Master.’"

His companion chided him.

"Isn’t a Master still a Monk? I can tell you’re just a layman, getting caught up in appearances. Am I right, Master Monk?"

The speaker was handsome, with a flippant tone, but his breathing was deep and steady. It was clear his Inner Strength was far from ordinary.

’It makes sense,’ Zhao Rui thought. ’The weakest people here are at least Level 9, and they have to be the top-ranked Martial Artists from their respective schools.’

’Who among them would be weak?’

’A Martial Artist like me in the Yunzhen Realm is probably just a small fry here.’

So, despite the man’s roguish way of speaking, no one looked at him with contempt.

"The benefactor speaks true. The Buddha is fundamentally without form, yet also of a thousand forms. The form of a Monk, the form of a Master, the form of a Buddha—all are my form, and the form of all living beings. Amitabha Buddha!"

The lead Monk was not angered. He simply put his palms together and smiled.

"Well said, Monk."

The handsome man laughed, his manner carefree and completely uninhibited.

"Everyone, please follow me!"

The Monk bowed his head with his palms together, then turned and led them along a mountain path toward the peak where the Emei Sect resided.

The group followed closely behind him. Looking up, they saw a thousand stone steps winding up into the clouds. The crevices between the steps were filled with dark green moss, and the mottled stone resembled an ancient bronze cauldron long buried in the earth.

In the distance, on the main path to the sect gate, stood a massive memorial archway over fifty feet tall. Its two dragon-carved pillars had been weathered by a millennium of wind and rain, giving them a dark, oily sheen.

The path they were on, however, was a side trail. It was not very wide and was paved with bluestone slabs that also shone with the luster of age.

At first, the mountain path was fairly level, but after about ten minutes of walking, the terrain grew uneven, and the trail began to twist and turn.

At times it was steep, at others wide. It wound past mountain pools and through ancient monasteries.

The mountain was filled with historic sites, Buddhist temples, and carvings, but most of those along this particular path had become protected relics.

They were no longer inhabited by monks or visitors.

The mountain path coiled like a dragon as they ascended the steps, flanked by ancient, gnarled cypresses with imposing branches.

As he walked, Zhao Rui admired the scenery along the path.

He periodically raised his camera to capture the beautiful sights.

After walking for the better part of the day, he suddenly saw something resembling a Luminous Pearl hanging from the branches of an ancient cypress up ahead. When the sunlight filtering through the trees struck it, the object emitted a brilliant glow.

"These are relics from the Vilu Hall of the Song Dynasty."

The Monk explained with a smile when he saw everyone staring.

"It’s true that great mountains house ancient temples. Even a random sight along the path is a relic from the Song Dynasty."

Following the Monk’s gesture, the group looked down and could just make out an inscription on a stone tablet, half-hidden in moss a few feet deep: "Where tigers are subdued and hearts are tamed, even stubborn stones will bow their heads!"

’Impressive,’ Zhao Rui thought to himself.

Continuing on, admiring the scenery as they went, they walked for about an hour. Their pace was quick, and soon they could see the majestic Zen Monastery perched atop a cliff thousands of feet high.

Its glazed tiles gleamed brilliantly in the sun, as if the Buddha’s Light were shining down upon the world, inspiring reverence in all who beheld it.

Ten minutes later, the group arrived before the gates of the Zen Monastery, home to the Emei Sect.

Everyone looked up at the massive plaque above the monastery gate, which bore the name: Guangxiang Zen Forest.

The name was originally cast from pure gold, but now only flecks of it remained embedded in the scorched wooden plaque, the words barely legible.

Legend has it that when Zhang Xianzhong set fire to the mountain, Master Nun Huaiyuan of Emei beat back the flames with her plain white sleeves. The wind from her movements sent molten gold flying like stars, leaving these very scorch marks.

The couplets on either side of the gate had long been eroded by time into a blur, yet a single half-line remained as clear as if it were carved by a knife: