"Five Spider Soul-wrapped Palm, isn't that...hiss..." Duan Yan took a deep breath, almost intending to turn the front of the car and slip back to Fenghuobao, "Brother Yan, you're not joking."

"This is an obvious truth." Yan Li said, stroking her non-existent beard.

At this moment, Duan Yan no longer had the intention to joke and said seriously: "Brother Yan, your father understands your intentions. The assassin is also a master of blood exchange, and his father cannot match it. If he really comes to assassinate us..."

"Some small things are not necessary." Yan Li said indifferently, "Young master should visit Zhuchan Temple with peace of mind. The ancestor of the Han family is impatient. Maybe when we come back, he had already passed on Lao Wang."

"Hey..." Duan Yan really didn't know what to say.

Yan Li stopped answering, and even sang the opera leisurely: "High your head and your chest and your righteousness are like a sword wave striking the dike. Her husband should be chivalrous, and she will not avoid being married and not fearing the enemy. Why do you need to make a sword? The chivalrous heart shines on the heaven and earth. How can you lift the clown with his feet? He will sweep away the evil spirit when he comes out..."

Duan Yan was speechless and could only say to himself: My Young Master Yan, that assassin is in the blood exchange stage, the blood exchange stage! Could it be that if you report your Young Master Yan’s name, you will hit him to death with lightning?

——…—

Zhuchan Temple is located in Zhonggu Peak in the southeast of Jianchuan City.

The Bell and Drum Peak is not very high, about a hundred feet above and below, with green pines and cypresses everywhere, which makes it look even more striking under the misty rain.

Yan Li and others' carriages, in the autumn rain, came to the gate of Zhuchan Temple, Zhonggu Peak. There were only stone steps in the mountain road ahead, and the carriages and horses could not pass. Fortunately, there were a monk waiting for the guests to help everyone take care of the carriages and horses.

In fact, if Yan Li had not held the "Bianji Tie", he would have only been able to reach the mountain gate when he was at Zhuchan Temple, but not everyone could go to the rugged mountain road ahead.

Everyone walked with umbrellas, climbed thousands of stone steps, turned several foothills, looked at the green pines and white stones, and heard the wind, rain, thunder and lightning. They all felt a clear mind and no dust.

At the end of the mountain road, a piece of blue-gray courtyard wall was exposed, hidden under the drizzle of pine branches, simple and peaceful.

After walking around the corner, you will see the real temple gate of Zhuchan Temple.

This ancient temple is composed of bluestone buildings, mixed with gray rocks and pine and cypresses. It is completely less magnificent and majestic than ordinary Buddhist temples, and only exudes endless Zen flavor in its simplicity and ancient style.

When you enter the temple gate, your vision is suddenly wide, and you can see the green pines all over the mountains. It is like the end of the mountains and rivers, and there is no way out, and there is another village with dark willows and flowers.

Yan Li walked in slowly with the umbrella and wrote a poem:

"There is a pine tree in the sky, and the mist and rain are erected. The wind and clouds cast Buddhist seals, and the heart is meditation and the drums and bells are made."

"The donor Yan is indeed wise and well-versed, and is well versed in Buddhist principles." As the voice came out, a middle-aged monk wearing a blue cloth robe, who was about fifty years old, with a clear face and a white beard. He walked slowly and could not tell that he was possessed by martial arts.

Only when the drizzle was drizzling, it couldn't fall three inches around it, and it was dry and refreshing when it passed through the front yard of the temple.

Undoubtedly, this is the ultimate cultivation of martial arts by innate qi protecting the body.

"I, Guangjue, I am late to welcome you, so I still ask the donor to forgive me." The old monk said together. He was the first Zen master Guangjue in the Prajna Hall of Zhuchan Temple.

Yan Li clasped his hands and returned the greeting, and replied, "No, it's because of the storm."

"Please, donor." Guangjue personally led the way and asked while walking, "The donor is smart, I only see you in my life. I don't know where the wind and rain are, but I can't wait until the donor's pace."

"The wind in the sky, the rain on the ground, the waves on the earth...ha." Yan Li chuckled, "It's not that the wind and rain stop me, but that the younger generation is lazy by nature, so it's too late."

"Amitabha, the wind and rain of heaven and earth, the ups and downs of the world have all entered the donor's eyes. Don't the donor realize it?"

"If I realize this, this body has become a Buddha, so why should I come and chat with the master?"

While talking, the group came to the Zen room. Zen Master Guangjue pushed the door and entered, and each looked for the cushion on the couch and sat opposite him, waved his hand to light the small red mud stove, and slowly cooked a pot of fragrant tea.

Duan Yan and Gui Yun also followed in and looked around.

The Zen room was extremely simple. Apart from an old wooden bed with a low table and a cushion, there were only two wooden chairs standing beside the door wall. There were even no Buddha statues and niches in the room, only a string of rosary, placed on the low table.

The only decoration in the Zen room is a pair of inscriptions on the wall and a seven-character poem written on it:

"Thousands of hammers and thousands of forgings to create the heart, and the wisdom sword cuts through the emptiness of right and wrong. This body is pure and pure, and the bell rings in the morning and comes to beat the drum and rings in the evening."

Duan Yan did not dare to disturb him or leave on his own, so he had to sit with Gui Yun on the wooden chair at the door, quietly watching the old and young people on the futon.

After the room was filled with tea fragrance, Guangjue continued the previous topic and asked: "How can you not kill the world if you are smart? Could it be that the donor still have nostalgia?"

Yan Li asked back, "One mind is towards the Buddha, with one sword falling from his hair, a pillar of fragrance, and a monk's robe, how easy it is to cut the world. However, the Heart Sutra says that there is no ignorance, no ignorance; no old age and death, no old age and death. Can the Zen Master's Wisdom Sword cut off all ignorance, and no ignorance? Can the life span, and the life span?"

Guangjue was silent, his whole body was motionless like a sculpture. After a while, he sighed and said, "Amitabha, I am taught."

This answer surprised Duan Yan, who was sitting at the door - the two of them discussed Zen, and he couldn't understand a word, but finally he sighed with great pleasure that he understood:

"Are you wrong? The monk in front of you is the first seat of the Prajna Hall, the best in the discussion of Zen in Zhuchan Temple! He just called himself "my son", and after a few words, he became a "lucky monk". He was a fair and shorter generation. I said, "Young Master Yan, you are so powerful that you are against the will of heaven!"

"The donor just wrote a poem, saying, 'The wind and clouds cast Buddha's seals, and the heart Zen is used as a drum and bell'. I think the meaning of the previous sentence is that if there is no change in the wind and clouds, it is difficult to understand the Buddhist principles. But I don't know what the deep meaning of the next sentence is? Ordinary monks beat drums and ring bells to find Zen to prove Buddhist principles, so that bells and drums can prove the heart Zen. How can the donor reverse it?"

In the first few simple debates, Zen Master Guangjue has regarded Yan Li as an equal Buddhist friend, no longer having the mentality of interrogating and guidance, but discussing sincerely.

Of course he didn't know that the person sitting in front of him was not a smart boy, but a master who had practiced for a hundred years and achieved immortality in the soul.

"There is also a sentence on the master's wall, 'Come and bells in the morning'. However, most temples have morning bells and drums. Why did the master go against the rules?"

Guangjue poured fragrant tea for the two of them and answered: "The morning is empty, the evening is empty, the bell is empty, the drum is empty. The morning bell is empty, and the morning bell is empty, and the morning bell is empty. The monk hits the bell, but he just lives a normal life, and there is no difference. Is this the donor's sentence the same meaning?"

"Not at all."

"Oh? I'd like to hear it carefully." Guangjue said with great interest.

"What is this mountain before Zhuchan Temple?"

"The wild mountains and rivers are never famous."

"So, only with the Zen mind can there be bells and drums."

When the monk Guangjue heard this, his eyes lit up, as if he heard the wonderful truth, and he closed his heart solemnly: "Amitabha, the donor wakes up, and it's like a sudden enlightenment."

"I dare not take it." Yan Li smiled, "Actually, there is another reason for this sentence."

“Hmm?”

"Rhyme. The limerick poem that comes with the slightest rhythm is already messed up. If there is no rhyme, wouldn't it make people laugh to death?" Yan Li shook her head and said to herself. When it comes to poetry, even a master of the soul is not as good as the romance of the prosperous Tang Dynasty.

"Hahaha." Guangjue laughed happily, "So that's it, so that's it, I am persistent."

Duan Yan at the door saw a monk who was as profound as Guangjue and had no expression of joy and anger. He actually laughed happily. Even if he couldn't understand a word, he knew that the two had a happy conversation. Yan Li and Zhuchan Temple had been formed. As long as there was the support of Zhuchan Temple, the Wang family would be a clown, not worth mentioning.

However, he really couldn't understand these Zen techniques, and sat at the door like a wooden stake, which was too uncomfortable.

"Hey..." He poked Gui Yun beside him with his finger.

Gui Yun stared at the two of Lu Chan without blinking, listening very seriously.

"Can you understand?" Duan Yan asked quietly. If Gui Yun could understand, he would not understand as a "skin tempering expert".

Gui Yun didn't even look at him, but just shook his head understandingly.

Seeing this, Duan Yan felt a sense of a soulmate and instigated: "Since we don't understand, let's not listen."

Guiyun shook his head again.

"We sneak out, they won't mind." Duan Yan advised again.

Guiyun shook his head for the third time and finally spit out a few words from his teeth: "It's rare to hear it, don't bother me."

Duan Yan's face was flushed and he was greatly hit. Just as he was covering his face and planning to leave by himself, he finally heard something that could be understood from the old and young people of Lun Chan.

Yan Li asked, "I am here, I don't know if I have the fate to see the way to cast Zen in your temple?"

"Of course, I'm just about to ask the donor for advice." Guangjue nodded without hesitation.

Born in Jianchuan City, he was born in a blacksmith shop. Duan Yan couldn't understand anything else, but this sentence is familiar.

Isn’t the way to cast Zen is the sword-making technique of Zhuchan Temple?

The most mysterious sword-making technique in the three major sword sects can you witness it with your own eyes?

The sky has eyes!

——…—

It was the Chinese Valentine's Day again, and Jianchuan City, bathed in the drizzle for a day and night, ushered in a bit of noise. The girls held beautiful paper umbrellas, embroidery, colorful threads, and silver shuttles to the banks of the Jianchuan River; the strong young heroes happily rowed canoes in the middle of the river, wrestling with each other, trying to attract the girls' attention.

Unlike the common noise in Jianchuan City, many people have unique thoughts on this day.

Yan Li entered Zhuchan Temple to discuss Zen for a day and night, and no news has been heard yet. The killer of the Wang family, Chang Duan, had already been ambushing outside the bell and drum peak for a day and night, and still had to wait. The Wang family's masters had also been following Chang Duan's back for a day and night. Even if they were impatient, they could only endure it.

The Fenghuofu in the city, led by Duan Heihu, was looking forward to it and restless. Wang Chuan, the ancestor of the Wang family, sat on his grand lord chair with an old face, exuding endless cold air. Han Tieyi, who had always had a hot temper, made no sound, as if he had acquiesced to the Wang family's delaying plan.

At this moment, Xianchen He Ying Yu Qingyue left Jianchuan City without anyone paying attention and headed west.

He did not wear a signature white crane cloak, but only an extremely ordinary blue-gray Confucian scholar robe. He held a yellow oil-paper umbrella in his hand, covering his white hair, and walked step by step towards the place in his memory.

He walked through the mass grave, crossed the hillside, entered a dense forest, and finally stopped in front of a ruin.

The ruins in front of me have long been flooded by weeds, leaving only a few mossy ruins, leaving a little trace when the wind blows the grass low. The once gravel paths have long been buried in dust and mud, and even the unique smell of rottenness in the ruins has dissipated with the passage of time.
Chapter completed!