Flower Stealing Master

Song Qingshu responded calmly, “Does it matter whether these words come from this little girl or from me?”

The surrounding crowd was momentarily stunned, but they quickly understood: yes, regardless of who said it, the fact that at least one of them understood Sanskrit meant that as long as they insisted it wasn’t the Marrow Cleansing Scripture, Shaolin Temple would have no way to prove otherwise and thus couldn’t justifiably seize it from You Tanzhi.

Master Xuan Cheng’s face alternated between green and purple. He had assumed that Ah Jiu didn’t understand Sanskrit, allowing him to openly take the Marrow Cleansing Scripture back from You Tanzhi without reproach. Who would have thought he’d dig such a deep pit for himself?

“Amitabha. With the benefactor’s apparent proficiency in Sanskrit, you must be well-versed in Buddh!st scriptures. Surely you understand the principle that greed, anger, and ignorance—the three poisons—harm both mind and body, trapping one in the cycle of life and death and serving as the root of evil. Now that the benefactor covets a divine manual, that is greed; acting rashly out of past misunderstandings is anger; and failing to distinguish between right and wrong, good and evil, is ignorance. The benefactor is afflicted by all three poisons… The sea of suffering is boundless; I hope you turn back before it’s too late.”

Master Fang Zheng, impressed by Song Qingshu’s earlier display of Sanskrit knowledge, mistakenly assumed him to be well-versed in Buddh!st philosophy. He hoped to use Buddh!st principles to persuade him to abandon any thoughts of possessing the Marrow Cleansing Scripture.

Song Qingshu secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Thankfully, the monks didn’t press him further on Sanskrit. His half-baked knowledge would have been exposed in an instant. Seeing the conversation shift to Buddh!st principles, he felt more confident. Such abstract topics could easily be countered with clever words.

“The sea of suffering is boundless, but does turning back really lead to salvation? May I ask, Master, Buddh!sm teaches that one can become a Buddha instantly by laying down the butcher’s knife. Is this true?” Song Qingshu knew that Buddh!st philosophy often involved debates where each side could argue their point. Instead of engaging directly, he countered with a question derived from Fang Zheng’s earlier words, staying on topic while disrupting the flow.

Fang Zheng was momentarily delighted, thinking Song Qingshu was repenting. He immediately replied, “That is indeed true.”

Song Qingshu smiled faintly, his tone suddenly sharp: “Then may I ask, Master, why must good people endure eighty-one tribulations to obtain true scripture and become Buddhas, while a murderous devil can become a Buddha simply by laying down their knife? Isn’t this grossly unfair to good people? Does such a Buddha not serve evildoers? What value does such a path to enlightenment hold?”

“This—” Song Qingshu’s three consecutive questions left Fang Zheng sweating profusely. He suddenly realized he had never considered this issue before and didn’t know how to explain it.

Song Qingshu’s words resonated with the nearby black-clad men. Though they were from opposing factions, his reasoning struck a chord. Many couldn’t help but wonder: was Buddh!sm merely a tool to deceive and oppress kind-hearted people?

Xuan Cheng, despite his high rank in Shaolin, had devoted most of his energy to martial arts and understood far less about Buddh!st philosophy than Fang Zheng. Seeing Fang Zheng unable to respond, he naturally had no solution either. As for Xu Zhu, his martial arts skills far exceeded his understanding of Buddh!st principles. Given his youth, he was even less reliable. Xuan Cheng could only snort coldly, “Mere sophistry.”

Song Qingshu laughed heartily. “I question Buddh!st principles with Buddh!st reasoning and expose contradictions. That either means you lack skill or that Buddh!sm itself is mere sophistry.”

Xuan Cheng immediately flew into a rage. “How dare you insult Buddh!sm, boy?”

“Do you believe there is something wrong with Buddh!st principles?” Xu Zhu, who had remained silent until now, suddenly stepped forward. His demeanor was sincere, resembling that of a devout believer.

“Buddh!st principles are profound, and I dare not speak ill of them,” Song Qingshu replied. Given his current level of martial arts, he couldn’t afford to shoulder such a crime. After all, countless devout Buddh!st followers existed, many of whom were formidable. He didn’t want to make so many enemies at once.

“From what you just said, if the fault does not lie with Buddh!st principles, then it must be our lack of understanding. In that case, can you explain why good people must endure eighty-one tribulations to obtain true scripture, while a murderous devil can become a Buddha by simply laying down their knife?” Xu Zhu asked earnestly, his sincerity leaving the impression of a true seeker of knowledge.

Fang Zheng’s eyes lit up. Xu Zhu seemed to be asking the same question, but if Song Qingshu failed to answer, it would prove his earlier arguments were baseless. His accumulated momentum would collapse, giving them justification to act.

As expected, Xu Zhu had great potential. Despite his low seniority, he had been chosen by the library’s master as a successor…

Song Qingshu hadn’t expected such a clever counter but had prepared for this possibility. He replied calmly, “Do the three masters believe that asking a murderous devil to lay down their knife is easier than subjecting a good person to eighty-one tribulations?”

Suppressing his laughter, Song Qingshu reflected on the wealth of arguments he had encountered on modern internet forums, ranging from ancient Greek sophistry to China’s “A White Horse is Not a Horse” paradox. After being tempered by countless skilled debaters online, how could these inexperienced monks hope to outmaneuver him?  (G: “White Horse Paradox” is by Gongsun Longzi, where he argues that “a white horse is not a horse” because the concept of “whiteness” adds a specific attribute that differentiates it from the general concept of “horse.”)

Xu Zhu’s face turned pale. He realized that Song Qingshu had perfectly resolved the dilemma. 

Xuan Cheng also looked grim.

Master Fang Zheng, showing greater composure, bowed slightly. “The benefactor’s understanding of Buddh!st philosophy is profound. We are humbled and have gained much insight today. In another situation, I would earnestly seek to learn from you. However, as this concerns our sect’s sacred treasure, we must act. Please forgive us for any offense.”

Song Qingshu smiled bitterly. This was the reality of this world: while conflicts ultimately relied on strength, everyone initially cloaked themselves in civility and righteousness.

Surveying the field, Song Qingshu noted that Zuo Lengchan was heavily injured and posed little threat for now. You Tanzhi, swayed by Ah Jiu, had been turned against the Shaolin faction. Unfortunately, his injuries from Xuan Cheng meant he could only help hold off Zuo Lengchan’s black-clad subordinates.

On Shaolin’s side, three top-tier experts remained at peak condition. One-on-one, Song Qingshu had no fear, but three-on-one was a different story…

He sighed inwardly, knowing he still had Miss Ren’s life to protect. While suppressing her cold poison with True Qi, he couldn’t possibly fend off three masters. In fewer than ten moves, he might perish. ŗ

Despite this, Song Qingshu had no regrets. At his level of martial arts, mental fortitude was as important as physical training. Letting Shaolin easily take the Marrow Cleansing Scripture would have left a lasting regret, becoming a flaw in his psyche and hindering his progress forever.

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