Chapter Twenty-Five: The Five Gentlemen and the Gathering of Heroes

Unbeknownst to him, another day had already dawned. Ye Hua, having just finished his meditation, saw that the sunlight was already streaming brightly outside. Rising from his bed, he tidied himself briefly and stepped out. The temple courtyard was bustling with many young monks hurrying off to morning lessons. Ye Hua wandered at his leisure, taking in the sights around him. By chance, he looked up and saw ahead, half-hidden by dense forest, a finely crafted wooden archway bearing the inscription “Qingliang Zhensui.” Beside it stood a stone stele engraved with the lines:

“At sunset, the Blue Mountain Temple stands by the ancient, silent ravine.
White clouds rise among emerald slopes; the bright moon falls on a chill spring.”

“How did I end up here?” Ye Hua mused silently. He realized this was Qingcui Studio, the residence of Ling Yun’er. “I wonder what Senior Sister Yun’er is doing. Should I visit her?” As Ye Hua hesitated, laughter and conversation drifted over the wall from the courtyard—it was Ling Yun’er speaking, with several of his senior brothers present as well.

Ling Yun’er was saying, “Eldest Brother, do you know what sort of opponents we’ll face in this Chanlin Gathering?” Then a man replied, “Junior Sister, since our opponents are drawn by lot, I fear none of them will be easy to deal with this time!” It was Bai Shisong speaking.

“Alas! Our Northern Terrace is so small and weak—counting even Junior Brother Ye Hua, we are only nine, the fewest of all five terraces, and even less than many lesser temples!” Another voice spoke up, “Third Brother, though we are few, with Eldest Brother among the Five Gentlemen, and Junior Sister’s extraordinary talent, we have a fair chance at being chosen for the Cold City trials.” This was Ye Hua’s fourth senior brother, Qing Xia.

Then the third brother replied, “There’s no doubt we’ll go to Cold City this time. After the Chanlin Gathering, the disciples will be ranked in six tiers. In the past, only the top tier could attend the grand Buddhist assembly in China, but this time it’s rumored even the second tier will be invited. If we’re lucky enough to make it, what a great opportunity that would be.”

“From the Central Terrace’s Qingliang Temple, there’s Bamboo Sword Xiao Yitian; from the Southern Terrace’s Nanchan Temple, Orchid Zither Li Ruolan; from the Western Terrace’s Shuxiang Temple, Chrysanthemum Blade Yang Jun; from the Eastern Terrace’s Longquan Temple, Plum Sword Bai Xuemei—these, along with our own Eldest Brother, the Pine Sword, make up the Five Gentlemen. Which of them is weak? They alone occupy half the top tier. And of the hundred-plus other temples—Guanhai, Jifu, Golden Pavilion, Lingying, Luomu Marquis, Nanshan, Puhua, Shouning, Pagoda Yard, Xiantong, Qixian, Yanqing, Yanshan, Yuanzhao, Zhenhai, Bamboo Grove, Zunsheng, and so many more—each has thousands of disciples, all highly capable. Even aiming for the second tier will be a challenge!” sighed Qing Xia.

Outside the wall, Ye Hua listened in awe. “I hadn’t realized the other sects and temples were so prosperous—far surpassing our Northern Terrace. Why hasn’t Master recruited more disciples?” He puzzled over this, unable to find an answer.

As he pondered, he heard his third brother say, “Junior Sister Yun’er may not match the Five Gentlemen in cultivation, but with the techniques and treasures from her family, she can surely outshine many!” “Oh, Third Brother, you flatter me too much. I may come from a noble family, but many others from prestigious backgrounds have also joined the Five Terraces—I’m hardly unbeatable!” Ling Yun’er replied with a laugh.

“Enough about the Chanlin Gathering. Junior Brother’s progress in the Four Noble Truths has been so slow—he must be troubled. I’d better go check on him,” said Bai Shisong. “Indeed, I’ve never seen anyone quite like our Junior Brother—five years of cultivation and only at the second level of the Four Noble Truths. He may be a bit dull, but he’s not truly stupid. Let’s go see him together,” the others agreed, and began making their way out.

Ye Hua heard them fall silent and emerge from the courtyard. Noticing the nearby Jialan Hall, he hurriedly ducked inside without thinking. Glancing around, he realized he’d never been here before—it was a small, separate courtyard, the main hall facing east, flanked by side rooms to the north and south. Not daring to be reckless, he stood quietly by the door, waiting until the voices faded into the distance before letting out a sigh of relief. For a moment he stood there in gloom, murmuring to himself, “So the Chanlin Gathering is about to begin… I wonder if Master will let me come along. Alas, probably not!”

He stepped out slowly, sighing as he looked up. On a low branch of a centuries-old pine beside him, a bird perched, cocking its head at him and occasionally chirping. Ye Hua smiled gently at it, “Are you like me—so alone? Where are your friends, your… your mate?”

He watched in silence for a while, until the bird fluttered its wings and flew off into the forest, vanishing from sight. Ye Hua felt a wave of melancholy, unable to say why.

After a while, just as Ye Hua was about to leave, he heard a Buddhist chant: “Amitabha.”

Startled, Ye Hua turned to see an old monk, perhaps fifty or sixty years old, standing behind him, smiling kindly. In all his five years at the Blue Mountain Temple, Ye Hua had never seen this man before.

“Disciple Ye Hua, may I ask your venerable name?” Ye Hua asked respectfully. “I am Zhi Guang. Are you the new disciple of Zhi Ku?” the monk replied. “Yes, Master Zhi Ku’s ninth disciple, Ye Hua,” Ye Hua answered, though he was deeply puzzled. The man’s voice was oddly familiar, as if he’d heard it somewhere before, yet Ye Hua was certain he’d never seen him. There was no one called Zhi Guang at the Blue Mountain Temple. Since he bore the ‘Zhi’ generation name, he must be of his master’s generation—perhaps an uncle-master or senior uncle?

As he pondered, the monk Zhi Guang chuckled and said, “I never thought Zhi Ku would have a ninth disciple. Ah, how the years fly—fifty years gone in a blink! Amitabha.” He lowered his head and sighed gently. Turning to glance at the Jialan Hall behind him, he shook his head and stood in silent contemplation for a moment, then opened his eyes and fixed them on Ye Hua. “What has happened at our Northern Terrace these years?” he asked.

“Nothing of note has occurred. The Chanlin Gathering is about to begin, and I hear the victors will go to Cold City for further training,” Ye Hua replied.

“The Chanlin Gathering, is it? Ha! That explains it—Central Terrace disciples have come to our Blue Mountain Temple. By my count, it must be time for another Chanlin contest. Amitabha!” The monk clasped his hands and bowed in prayer. Ye Hua was suddenly struck by a realization: “Central Terrace disciples!” It was as if a bolt of lightning split the darkness within him. Suddenly, he understood—“No wonder this voice sounds so familiar—it’s him!” His heart surged with emotion.

Immediately, he knelt and bowed deeply, saying, “Thank you, Master, for saving my life! I will never forget your kindness!”

Zhi Guang burst out laughing, his eyes full of warmth as he looked at Ye Hua. “So you figured it out! Yes, those Central Terrace disciples are always so arrogant—I’ve long disapproved of them. When they dared to throw their weight around here at Northern Terrace, it was truly detestable. I only wanted to use you to teach them a lesson. Your courage was admirable, but—hehe—cultivation is what really matters! You mustn’t neglect it!” He chuckled again.

Ye Hua blushed with embarrassment, still kneeling on the ground, and quietly replied, “It’s only that I am dull and untalented—unworthy, and have made a fool of myself before you.”

Zhi Guang laughed kindly. “Come, stand up! Cultivation is certainly related to one’s natural gifts, but temperament is just as important! Besides, not everyone in this world is suited to the path of cultivation. Ordinary people can still live happy, peaceful lives! In our Buddhist tradition, we value profound teachings, but character always comes first. Why trouble yourself so much?”

Ye Hua, hearing this, thought to himself, “Yes, why do I force myself so? How much greed, anger, and delusion have I truly let go of? Is cultivation really so essential?” The shame he felt deepened, and he bowed again before rising slowly. Zhi Guang seemed to understand his thoughts and nodded approvingly. “You are teachable! Though you have not yet taken vows, you should still study the Dharma diligently.”

Ye Hua bowed once more. “I will remember your words.”

Zhi Guang smiled. “With the Chanlin Gathering approaching, have you learned any secret techniques in the Sutra Library?”

Ye Hua murmured, “My cultivation is shallow, and I have not been here long. Master has not yet… not yet permitted me to go.”

Zhi Guang nodded. “Your master must have his reasons. The Sutra Library holds over 7,500 volumes, an immense and diverse collection. Since your cultivation is still shallow, learning advanced techniques now would do more harm than good. There’s no need to rush.”