We were travelling by the river-bank still, headed towards Jixing City on a ‘scenic route’, whatever that meant. It was a couple of days into Mentor’s blindness test. I was beginning to get the hang of it, though I still found it difficult to avoid the rocks once they were thrown, especially when she moved carefully.

Either way, I had grown comfortable with our rather sedate pace. No longer in a rush to learn the State of Wu, I decided to trust in Mentor, in a fashion. I didn’t beg her to learn something different, but I also wasn’t completely enthused with her methods. Sparring had become even more brutal, now, and it was all I could do to not give up every time.

My spirit would remain unbroken. That was my one vow to the heavens. Nothing would break it.

…Especially not some stupid rocks.

When we approached a waterfall, we sat down to eat. I marvelled at nature’s gift, having never seen a waterfall myself, except in miniature. After we caught some fish to eat, we sat down and watched as the carp swam against the stream before meeting a dead-end. Expecting them to turn around and leave, they only went back a little before building up enough velocity to shoot out of the stream, travelling almost thirty feet before plopping down on the mouth of the waterfall one by one.

“Dragon carp!” Mentor smiled. “How fortuitious!”

“Are we eating them?” I asked. If we ran, we could probably catch up with them.

“Heavens, no. Carp tastes like mud,” she waved her hand dismissively. “They are symbols of perseverance. It is said that if you see a dragon carp leaping over a waterfall in your travels, you will be gifted indomitable will and spirit!”

I huffed at that. “My spirit isn’t going to come from some stupid f-fish,” I censored myself. “That’s just stupid.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “But as your mentor, I have become intimately familiar with your limits. I will inform you if this experience has somehow managed to increase them.”

“Please,” I boasted. “I’m limitless.”

“Eat your food, disciple.”

Letting the matter go, I continued to eat. If there was one thing Mentor didn’t approve of, it was boasting. In a way, I felt the same. Boasting, to me, always felt like you were trying to convince another person of your actions, before convincing yourself of them, like your sense of self lied with others’ approval.

I had never really been approved of, so the idea of boasting never did cross my mind, as it would be at odds with my own pride.

I heard a humming from a distance, and turned to the treeline obscuring the hums. Silently, I thanked Mentor for training my hearing, having gone completely alert. Bandits and highwaymen were not rare, and while we were lucky to not have run into any, I never let go of my vigilance. Of course, unless they were from the Wulin or Jianghu, nothing would come of it.

The humming became louder and louder, coming closer and closer towards us until they exited the treeline, but instead of a group of unwashed, horny bandits, a young man came out, wearing a red baggy suit below yellow robes, a large pole arm strapped to his back, and a bald head. He looked like the picture of innocence as he hummed, his eyes young, and features soft. If he dressed the part, he could very-much pass off as a woman.

Mentor tapped me gently on my shoulder. “Calm down, disciple, it’s just a missionary.”

The monk stopped humming and gave us a smile and a nod. “Hello!”

“…Hello,” I greeted back, dubiously. “What’s your deal?”

He chuckled at that. “Oh, wow, you’re the first person I’ve seen since I left the mountain!” He came closer. “Do you mind if I sit down with you both?”

“Not at all,” Mentor responded.

“Ah, thanks,” he gave us a beaming smile, having sat opposite us. “What is your name?” He asked.

“Kang Yilan,” I responded, a little apprehensively. “What’s yours?”

“’Monk’ will do,” he said. “I cannot give my dharma name to outsiders.”

Oh, wow. What an asshole.

He continued with a smile, completely unaware of my thoughts. “So… did you know that you are both constantly suffering? I have a way to fix that.”

I turned to Mentor dubiously. “What the hell is wrong with this guy?”

000

Apparently, the guy was hungry. I offered to catch him some fish, since while I thought he was weird, I didn’t quite dislike him.

He declined, stating that he was a vegetarian, meaning that he didn’t eat meat.

Whatever religion the guy was peddling was instantly blacklisted the moment he said that. Meat wasn’t just something I could swear off.

But he was a pleasant character when he wasn’t going on and on about the suffering of humanity, and how he would save us both from our suffering by espousing the dharma.

“Where are you even from?” I asked. “You were in a mountain?”

He nodded eagerly. “The Shaolin Mountains! They’re hidden, and I can’t tell you where it is, but I lived there all of my life! Oh, boy, the air here is great!” He grinned even harder. “I can’t believe anyone would suffer in such an environment!” He took a deep breath. “I feel like I can run for hundreds of miles with no pause!”

His eyes were unnaturally wide, his pupils dilated and the dopey grin was all too familiar. I turned to Mentor solemnly. “This guy is intoxicated.”

Mentor scowled at me. “Have some compassion, disciple. This is the first time he is in an environment rich with air. As you travel further towards the sky, the air becomes less and less breathable. While the Shaolin Monks adapt to it, the sudden influx on the surface makes them… loopy.”

What a tough deal. Then again, who the hell would decide to live in a mountain? I turned to the Monk, who was still smiling dopily. “Okay, so you won’t eat our fish. What will you eat?”

“Huh?” He shrugged. “I’ll pick some berries or fruits. I’ve done that since I left the mountain. I haven’t run into a town, yet.”

“We’re heading to Jixing City for a quick stop,” I said.

“I would like to join you,” he said. “If that is not too much trouble.”

“You know how to use that shovel-thing?” I asked, looking at the pole arm on his lap. It was no-doubt a weapon. If he could pull his own weight by defending himself on the way, I’d worry less. Yes, he was annoying, but he wasn’t exactly a bad person. Or at least, that’s what Mentor reassured me (‘You’ll never find a kinder bunch than the Shaolin Monks. We should take care of him.’).

“Oh, yes,” He nodded eagerly. “All brothers of the Shaolin Monastery are well-versed in the art of combat,” then, his expression suddenly turned dour. “Though if a fight is to break out, I would rather not fight.”

“Why?” I asked, scowling. “You some kind of coward?”

“Disciple,” Mentor chided.

“Far from,” he replied with a smile. He could switch his mood like turning a hand. “If a fight must be fought, I will fight, but if diplomacy is a solution, then I will not get too hasty.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Ugh, fine,” I said. “But if you get in trouble thinking you can sweet talk a pack of wolves from ripping your throat out, then that’s on you.”

“Certainly,” he replied, his smile uneasy. “Though the imagery does indeed frighten, the best way to approach a predator is to simply run away. They cannot help their predatory nature, so it is best to simply remove oneself from their vicinity.”

I stood up alongside Mentor, and once we finished packing our bags, we were on our way. The monk continued to hum lowly, going an octave lower than I would have expected with his regular voice. The chants were soothing, a balm to my ears. Instead of disturbing the auditory fixture of the forest, it blended with it, complemented it even.

If anything, he would probably be a good singer.

000

We had headed up a mountain in order to get past an obstructive mountain chain, a part of the ‘scenic route’, Mentor maintained. I didn’t quite mind, since the sights were indeed worth the weariness. When we set up camp on the rockier zone of the mountain, the setting sun in full view, I unrolled my bedroll and waited for sleep to come.

The monk was still chanting.

I sat up and sent him a glare, which he did not notice. He was in a rather extreme cross-legged position, both feet resting on the opposite thigh, while his hands came together to form an oval.

“Hey, Monk,” I said. He opened a single eye to peer at me, then opened them both before smiling that too-too sweet smile. “What the hell are you even doing?”

“Meditating on the dharma,” he responded.

“You keep saying that,” I said to him. “What the hell does ‘dharma’ even mean?”

He thought for a moment before formulating an answer. “Well, in our belief system, we maintain that all human beings live in a constant state of suffering.” Well, he was right about that one bit.

“So you get used to it?” I asked.

His smile grew strained. “Well, not exactly,” he said. “After all, suffering is not desirable, is it?”

“But it happens, anyway,” I said. “Best to not let it get to you.”

“To hold on to suffering and to ignore it only brings more suffering,” he responded. “That is no way to approach the subject.”

It’s worked for me, so far…

…has it?

“To explain the dharma in its fullest extent will take a long time,” he said. “But I believe that time will be spent well, because to give you an abridged version is irresponsible. All sentient creatures have their own comprehension and ability to parse information differently. To treat two beings equally is the height of folly, and the same applies for what I am about to tell you.” I nodded him along, a little impatiently. “Do you agree to listen to my teachings?”

I nodded. “Provided you stop when I get bored.”

He smiled, and then launched into his explanation.

Essentially, it is the right way of conduct that any being should maintain in order to break through the cycle of rebirth. The bit about suffering talked about how one can never really transcend into ‘Buddhahood’ if you were suffering. Or… was it that you should accept suffering? The guy had a knack for speaking in a roundabout way without much coherence, like he was telling a story with five different conflicting views.

“Okay, stop,” I said, stopping him right in his tracks. “You’re new at this, right?”

He nodded, still smiling. “I was only recently released from the Shaolin Mountains on my mission.”

“Yeah, okay,” I said. “You might want to get your story straight before asking people to completely change their system of belief for you. Firstly, what was the bit about suffering, again? And how do I stop suffering?”

“Accept the Four Noble Truths,” he smiled. “Pain, the origin of pain, the cessation of pain, and the Noble Eightfold Path.”

“Okay,” I nodded. “So life is pain, rebirth is pain, but… when does pain cease?”

“Eliminate craving, desire and attachment.”

The silence was enough to elicit a series of chuckles from Mentor, who was hard at work preparing food. She had brought a platter of berries as well, for the Monk. “Okay…” I said slowly. “So you want me to stop… wanting. And you want me to destroy my relationships?”

“Ah, no,” he smiled. “That is much too simplistic a take. I cannot expound too much on it because it is for every sapient being to meditate on the Four Noble Truths on their own.”

“And the last one?” I asked. “Eight noble paths or…?”

“The Noble Eightfold Path,” he corrected, still smiling so infuriatingly. “Have the right view, right intention, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness and right Samadhi.”

I raised an eyebrow at the last word, which I didn’t recognize. “Wait, what?”

“The right view, the right-“

“No, I meant the last bit!”

“Right Samadhi.” He smiled. “Oh, that one’s the easiest, right after right speech, right view and right intention. It is a form of meditation that is exceedingly helpful!”

“Meditation?” I asked. Suddenly, his face looked elsewhere behind me and he closed his mouth.

“Nevermind.”

He turned my head back to my Mentor, who pretended to have done nothing. “Wait, what’s wrong?” I stood up. “What’s the big deal with meditation?”

“You’re not ready,” she replied simply.

I scowled. “Well, why?”

She sighed. “Keep listening to the Monk,” she advised. “He has a lot of things to say that are good for you. You are not required to become an initiate or anything, but the Eightfold Path contains truths that will help you in life, as well as in your Martial Path,” she then turned to the Monk. “Boy, leave the Eighth path out for now.”

“But-“ I was cut short by her look, which brokered no protest. I shut my mouth and turned to the Monk, now much more interested in his shpiel. If he had things to say that could help me in my path, then it would be all too prudent to listen. I sat down and asked my questions. “What does right view mean?”

He smiled and explained, going through every single path, leaving the eighth one unexplained. The right view involved being cognizant of certain facts, such as our actions have consequences, and ‘death is not the end’ whatever the hell that meant, and that our actions and beliefs could bite us in the ass after death.

I was already stuck disbelieving the first path. Actions don’t have any consequences to yourself if you were powerful enough to ignore them. Death was the end. Anything else had to be fairy tales, and this idea of ‘karma’ that he was espousing, being held accountable to actions after death… it didn’t inspire much confidence in my own soul.

The second path was right out as well. Giving up everything for a life of piety… because, apparently, having possessions led to treasuring possessions which then led to worrying about said possession or mourning its loss, which all equated to suffering. To them, it was just much easier to give it all up and avoid suffering, that way.

Even I could see that all that would happen would be them treasuring the clothes on their backs, or that giant crescent spade thing.

The right speech was less disagreeable, as I could see where he was coming from, but still largely impractical. Deceit had its place everywhere, and eliminating deceit would make a lot of things more difficult than they had to be. Rude language was… wait, was Mentor a Shaolin Nun all this time?

No, wait, she ate meat. Moving on.

The fourth path was the most problematic path. Right conduct or action. No killing or injuring. No stealing was acceptable, but the following two were not; no sexual acts or material desires.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, the right livelihood meant literally begging for food, since apparently working and earning a wage and then paying someone to cook you a meal led to ‘suffering’. The idea was to live in a way in which your life was only sustained, and that included having to beg.

That one offended me, actually. “Stop,” I said. “You think ‘begging’ is the right way to live?”

He nodded. “It makes people more pious when they give to charity. The Shaolin monks and nuns who do not live on the mountain sustain themselves by delivering sermons and then receiving food, and maybe even shelter, as remuneration,” his eyes almost glistened in veneration. “It truly is the way to live.”

Just then, Mentor came to deposit food in front of us. I had a plate of cut venison and some fruits, while the Monk had fruits and root-plants. The Monk smiled in thanks.

“And what if people don’t give you food?” I asked, gnashing my teeth.

“Then you move on,” he smiled. “Worst case scenario, you may have to live off the land by foraging, but there are few cases where a whole town is so completely miserly, they won’t give you any food.”

‘Few cases’… yeah.

I guess I just got unlucky. Still, I couldn’t help but shake in barely-contained fury at the reminder of where I came from, how cold that village was to me.

He clasped his hands and nodded my way. “Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo, I sense much suffering from you. Would you care to relieve your burdens to this monk?”

“No,” I said. “Move on.” It helped to take my mind off of it, dig it deeper and pray that the anger goes away.

“I think you should,” he said solemnly.

“Drop. It.”

He paused for a moment before bowing his head respectfully. “I will abide by your decision.” The next path was the right effort, which meant preventing ‘unwholesome’ states to arise, to shunt away negativity while promoting ‘positivity’. “Unwholesome states never disappear unless you discuss them,” he continued. “To truly promote a wholesome state and to prevent an unwholesome, you need to discuss it. You need to become vulnerable, and trust that whoever listens can pull you out of your unwholesome state with love and support.”

“Get on with it,” I bit out.

“Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo,” he chanted, interlocking his fingers, except for his index fingers, which he pointed upwards. “The Seventh path, and the last of which I shall explain is the right mindfulness. In all things, one must retain the teachings of the dharma. One must apply it to every facet of life, and one must be aware of one’s own existence, which can further allow one to meditate on the principles of impermanence,” he said. Then he sighed, clearly tired. “Your Mentor speaks truth. While you may not have to initiate yourself to the dharma, our teachings can help you along your Martial Path. Even if you only follow one,” he raised an index finger. “Path, you may still live a relatively happy life.”

I nodded. Only one, huh? “Well, that was a whole load of nothing.”

The bothered expression of his face slowly melted away as he chanted sutras and did that hand-thing. “That isn’t very nice.”

“Right speech and all that,” I mocked. “Well, you gave me something to think about at the very least,” I said.

“Again,” he repeated. “I really do think you should talk about the suffering you clutch onto. It does you no good.”

I ignored him, busy trying to quell the murderous rage. Gulping, he resorted to just chanting beneath his breath between each mouthful of food.

When we finished eating, we fell asleep one and all.