Flower Stealing Master

Jiumozhi continued, “Not just the Prajna Palm, but also the essential techniques of the Great Vajra Fist and the secret method of the Maha Finger—I still remember them.” As he spoke, he recited another long passage in Sanskrit, followed by a segment from a martial arts scripture.

The assembled monks listened intently. Though his words were not entirely verbatim, they were largely accurate, precisely matching the key points recorded in the three ancient texts.

Even Xuan Cheng was stunned. If it were just that earlier Sanskrit passage, it could be explained as an exchange of knowledge among fellow disciples. However, these later sections were things he had never mentioned to Song Qingshu. Yet, Jiumozhi could fluently recite the Sanskrit versions, something impossible to have prepared in advance.

‘Could it be that these martial arts truly originated from India?’

A sudden thought surfaced in the minds of many monks present, even shaking Xuan Cheng’s conviction. However, he quickly regained his composure—this foreign monk must have used some trick. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Amitabha!” Xuan Ci intoned a Buddhist prayer. “It seems that the Maha Cakra Vajra possesses an extraordinary memory. After silently flipping through the pages just once, you were able to memorize the essence of three martial arts scriptures. Moreover, you are proficient in Sanskrit, allowing you to first translate the scriptures into Sanskrit and then recite them in Chinese. I must admit, that is quite impressive.”

As soon as Xuan Ci spoke, the monks suddenly understood the deception. Realizing the trick, they all berated Jiumozhi for his shamelessness.

Now that his ruse had been exposed, Jiumozhi felt somewhat humiliated. Instead of defending himself, he simply said, “If you insist on twisting the truth, I have nothing to say. However, I have a simple method to clarify whether these so-called ’72 Ultimate Techniques’ were truly created by Shaolin or if they were transmitted from India to Tibet before spreading to the Central Plains.”

The monks were taken aback. Even Xuan Ci couldn’t help but frown. “May I ask, Maha Cakra Vajra, what method do you propose?” Nôv(el)B\\jnn

One of Shaolin’s Four Great Monks, Kong Wen, sneered, “Maha Cakra Vajra, there is no need for such mystification. These arts were created by our temple’s predecessors. Our eminent monks believed that martial cultivation is also a path to spiritual cultivation. Each practitioner’s journey is an opportunity for enlightenment, so they intentionally omitted shortcut methods to prevent future disciples from taking the easy way out and missing greater truths.”

Hearing this, Zhang Sanfeng silently nodded. Indeed, over the centuries, Shaolin had produced numerous brilliant minds. Establishing such an unspoken rule was an act of great wisdom.

Meanwhile, Song Qingshu could only smile wryly. ‘Here Jiumozhi goes again, showing off…’

As expected, Jiumozhi calmly replied, “You may speak eloquently, but the reality remains that much of the essence and key insights of Shaolin’s 72 Ultimate Techniques have been lost due to repeated transmissions. That is an undeniable fact.”

The Shaolin monks were furious. Xuan Cheng’s figure flickered as if he were about to strike, but in the end, he held back. His previous defeat at Zhang Sanfeng’s hands had made him much more cautious—he decided to first gauge his opponent’s depth before taking action.

However, another monk, Xuan Sheng, could not suppress his temper. He stepped forward and said, “Maha Cakra Vajra, you claim that the 72 Ultimate Techniques are Indian techniques brought to our temple via Tibet. You also claim that our temple lacks crucial training insights, preventing us from mastering them fully. This is an easy claim to test. If any Shaolin disciple demonstrates techniques from these arts before you, we will restrict our moves to these very arts. If you truly possess the secret knowledge, you will counter with the same arts. That way, we can judge whether your claims hold any truth.”

Jiumozhi smiled slightly. “May I ask which techniques the master specializes in?”

“It seems the Maha Cakra Vajra has chosen me as his opponent,” Xuan Sheng said. Ranked among the top martial artists of the ‘Xuan’ generation, he showed no fear. “I am but a humble monk, and I have only a beginner’s grasp of three supreme arts—the Prajna Palm, the Maha Finger, and the Great Vajra Fist, which you mentioned earlier. If you are merely knowledgeable in theory but do not actually practice these arts, that is understandable. Most of our senior monks specialize in only five or six supreme arts each, but collectively, we have masters of all seventy-two. So, Maha Cakra Vajra, you need not worry that we lack opponents for any technique you may mention.”

Although Xuan Sheng spoke politely, everyone could hear the underlying challenge in his words. He was deliberately cornering Jiumozhi, preventing him from dodging the confrontation with rhetoric. After all, Jiumozhi’s previous arguments had been logical and persuasive. If they spread in the martial world, they might cause people to doubt the authenticity of the 72 Ultimate Techniques. However, if Jiumozhi made grand claims but lost in a real fight, the martial world would naturally dismiss his words.

Song Qingshu sighed inwardly. ‘This Xuan Sheng is quite clever. Unfortunately, he doesn’t realize that Jiumozhi has no intention of backing down.’ 

The only person in Shaolin who truly understood Jiumozhi’s capabilities was Fang Zheng, but he had been injured in his duel with Ren Woxing and had recently returned to the temple to recover. No one else was present to warn the monks. As for Song Qingshu, he was simply enjoying the spectacle. He would love nothing more than to see Shaolin humiliated and had no intention of speaking up.

Sure enough, Jiumozhi remained completely composed as he said, “Master, do you know why none of your temple’s monks have ever mastered multiple supreme arts? The most anyone has achieved is thirteen, and that was the best in centuries.”

Xuan Sheng hesitated before replying instinctively, “The 72 Ultimate Techniques each have their own focus—some specialize in lower-body techniques, some in Qinggong, some in fists and palms, others in hidden weapons, swords, or staffs. Each has its own strengths. A swordsman cannot wield a Zen staff, and a master of the Fist cannot control hidden weapons. While some monks excel in five or six arts, they only practice those that do not conflict with each other. That is why even our highest-ranking monks typically master only a few techniques.”

What he didn’t say was that thirteen or fourteen of the seventy-two arts were incredibly difficult to cultivate. Even the most talented martial artists might devote their entire lives to mastering just one without success. However, since Jiumozhi had just claimed that Shaolin was missing key training secrets, Xuan Sheng avoided mentioning this fact—he did not want to strengthen Jiumozhi’s argument.

Jiumozhi burst into laughter. “Master, why deceive yourself? The real reason no one in your temple has mastered all seventy-two arts is that your so-called supreme arts lack their complete training manuals!”

Kong Wen immediately seized upon this flaw in his argument and said coldly, “From your words, Maha Cakra Vajra, are you claiming that you have mastered all seventy-two arts?”

“Of course,” Jiumozhi said proudly.

At this declaration, not only did the Shaolin monks’ expressions change, but even Zhang Sanfeng looked at him with surprise. ‘This boast is simply too outrageous…’

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