At the head of the bed stood a wooden shelf, on which hung a towel, a strip of black cloth, and two old clothes of coarse cloth.

Li Muchan wiped his bald head with a towel and changed into a gray coarse cloth clothes, although he was washed white, he was very comfortable to wear.

He took off his shoes, sat cross-legged on the hardwood bed, and sat on his knees, his hands stamped in front of the umbilicus, his eyes closed, motionless like a statue.

The breathing gradually slowed, thinned, and deepened, like silk, and continuously, like tough silk.

Under the light of the fire, his serious face gradually softened, revealing a smile, if there is nothing, his expression is solemn, kind, and faintly similar to the Buddha statue in the temple.

His breathing became thinner and lighter, until he stopped completely, but when he saw his chest rise and fall, there was no sound of breathing, and there was silence in the cave, with the occasional "crackling" sound from the torches.

In the silence, time passes, and an hour passes.

His eyes slowly opened, his gaze was exceptionally clear, like the pool of spring water on the mountainside, his breathing resumed, and his hands made a few arcs in front of him, slowly returning to the umbilicus.

Then, with his right hand, he pulled out a throwing knife from the head of the bed and stared at the wall ten meters away, where there were countless small potholes.

Looking at this wall, he was very proud in his heart, this cave was dug by himself, little by little, dug for three years in one go, as the cave became bigger, his strength was also increasing, and his surname became more and more quiet, which can be said to be counted in one fell swoop.

He held the flying knife in a very strange posture, holding his thumb down, the blade of the knife was completely attached to the palm of his hand, and the palm of his hand was facing down, so that others could not see the existence of the flying knife.

He stared at somewhere on the wall, motionless, except for his chest heaving slightly, his breathing even, slow.

The right hand suddenly trembled, and a cold light flashed in the air, and then there was a muffled "bang", like a hammer hitting a wall.

The throwing knife in his right hand was gone, embedded in the wall ten meters away, half of the blade sunk into the wall, half exposed.

He frowned, slowly picked up a throwing knife again, and after concentrating, shot it again, and after a cold light, the flying knife shot into the stone wall.

Then, he shot eight more knives, and the ten throwing knives lined up in a circle on the wall, very neat.

But he shook his head, sighed, as if he was not very satisfied, unseated himself and got out of bed, pulled out all ten throwing knives, inserted them back into the bed, and picked up the iron rod.

He held an iron rod in his right hand, his legs were slightly divided, one forward and one backward, and he stabbed forward violently, the speed was extremely fast, and he made a soft sound of "snort", as if the sound of clothes being torn.

Once, again, and again, he repeated this action monotonously, stabbing forward, stabbing forward, stabbing forward, as if mechanically.

One by one heavier, one by one faster, gradually I couldn't see the movement clearly, only to see a stick shadow filled, the air was like a piece of cloth, pierced by the stick, and the sound became louder and louder.

He seemed to be practicing a spear and a sword, stabbed nearly a thousand times, stopped suddenly, put down the iron rod, and wiped his forehead with a towel.

At this moment, his forehead was densely covered with beads of sweat, and his breathing was still even, not rough or panting.

Hanging up the towel, he began to strike a position with his legs shoulder-width apart, palms on either side of his thighs, palms pressed down, and breathing heavier and heavier.

This is a set of fitness kung fu he learned from later generations, called the Twelve Great Strengths, which he saw on the Internet, tried to practice, and persisted for a month, which has a strong physical effect.

The martial arts in this world are extremely precious, they are all kept secret, the second sister Li Yurong worshiped under the Snow Seal Shenni and wanted to pass on his martial arts in private, but he didn't agree, and the private disclosure of martial arts was enough to drive out the door wall and abolish the martial arts.

He began to practice the 12 great strengths when he was five years old, although the body was five years old, the intelligence was forty years old, carefully figured out, and the Dharma corroborated each other, and gradually realized the essence of the 12 great strengths, unconsciously, actually practiced a body of divine power.

He was also inexplicable, I don't know if it was because he had practiced hard since he was a child, and his kung fu arrived, or because the kung fu of meditation was deep and his qi veins were smooth, he thought about it, probably both.

When he was five years old, he had already begun to practice kung fu, in addition to meditating every day and refining meditation kung fu, that is, practicing the twelve great strengths, flying knives, and forward stabs.

Suddenly, twelve years have passed, meditation kung fu has entered the fundamental Zen, out of the world of desire into the world of color, the mind is clear, the mind is like a bead, clear and distinct, the twelve great strengths are successful, the power is infinite, and the flying knife is also extremely accurate, only this front stab, but he is not satisfied.

He has seen the second sister shoot, it is really as fast as lightning, and he can't see it clearly with the naked eye, although he has infinite strength, he has also practiced hard for more than ten years, and he is still a little worse than the second sister.

But it's not useless, the two robbers a while ago, he easily put down, because the first time he shot at someone, he didn't control his strength and stabbed a person to death.

Fortunately, the Mei Mansion is powerful, and the eldest brother is the deputy deacon of the mansion, and his power is not small, and he can get out of the relationship between the upper and lower levels, otherwise he will inevitably go to the prison.

After this incident, he changed his mind and felt that no matter how strong his meditation skills were, if he wanted to protect himself, he still needed to practice martial arts.

After looking at the iron rod for a while, he put it down and changed into a gray monk's robe.

Then he put out the torch and got out of the cave, found a sycamore leaf as an umbrella, covered his bald head, and strode west to Chengjing Temple.

The rain is still falling, dripping, Chengjing Temple lies quietly on the mountainside, as if covered with a layer of light veil, the surrounding woods are shaded, full of greenery, and it seems extraordinarily quiet.

He pushed open the courtyard door, strode through the courtyard, came to his meditation room, walked to the outside and stopped, and put the sycamore leaf on the windowsill.

After listening for a moment, he coughed lightly and called softly, "Master?"

When I meditate, I am most afraid of being disturbed.

"Master Zhan Ran, please come in. The voice of Master Jikong came from inside the room.

Li Muchan frowned, hearing that his voice was weak and weak, it seemed that his health was worse than yesterday.

He pushed the door in, and a foul smell hit his nose, and his chest rolled and he almost vomited.

His face remained unchanged, and he walked in slowly, Master Jikong was sitting on the bed, his face was full of sores, very terrifying, but his eyes were peaceful, looking at Li Muchan quietly.

Li Muchan turned around and closed the door, went to the bed and asked softly, "Master, are you better?"

Master Jikong nodded lightly and said slowly, "The old man is much better,...... It's raining outside, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's raining lightly. Li Muchan nodded.

Master Jikong showed a smile: "Listen, the sound of falling water on the eaves is crisp, soft, and even true and beautiful!"

Li Muchan's jaw head: "Everything in heaven and earth has fun, a flower is a world, a leaf is a life, but the world turns a blind eye." ”

"Yes...... Master Jikong sighed leisurely and said in a low voice: "People live for a lifetime, like flowers and trees withering and glorious, all in reincarnation." ”

Seeing this, Li Muchan gently comforted: "Master, what is the joy of life, what is the fear of death, why should you be haunted by your heart?"

"Lao Wei has lived for 60 years, and one Jiazi time is enough. Master Jikong looked at the window and sighed leisurely, a smile on the corner of his mouth.

Li Muchan stepped forward and pushed open the window.

A breath of fresh air came to his face, as if it penetrated into the pores around his body, and his boreary chest suddenly cleared, and the nausea was washed away, and the air was filled with a faint fishy smell, which was particularly good.

The light rain kept dripping, and there was a curtain hanging outside the window, Master Jikong stared at the rain curtain in a daze, and smiled even more: "Master Zhanran, the old man is over, and he is leaving." ”

Li Muchan was stunned for a moment, and turned to look: "Master......"

Master Jikong shook his head and smiled slightly: "The old man has practiced for half his life, but he has not achieved anything, but since he got sick, his realm has increased greatly, and he has been able to leave freely,...... Just because a matter of heart is not over, so the love is in the world. ”

Li Muchan said: "What is on the master's mind, if there is a place to send, but according to orders. ”

Master Jikong smiled and sighed: "It can be described as the will of heaven to meet Master Zhanran!"

He was covered in sores and stinking, lying in Jinyang City for two days, no one paid attention to it, only this Zhan Ran disregarded his disgust, if he did not have a compassionate heart, it would be difficult to do it.

What's even more rare is that this Zhan Ran monk's Dharma cultivation is profound, no less than himself, such a person, must be the reincarnation of a certain Buddhist master.

Master Jikong took out a thin booklet from his arms and gently put it on the bed: "This book of heaven and man and god according to the scriptures was obtained by the old man unintentionally, but he has not been allowed to enter the door. ”

Li Muchan looked at it suspiciously.

Master Jikong saluted and said slowly: "Lao Qu was originally a disciple of Da Lei Yin Temple, and then he was expelled from the temple for breaking the vows, and his cultivation was abolished, and his only long-cherished wish was that the ashes could be returned to the pagoda of Da Lei Yin Temple,...... I also hope that Master Zhan Ran will be fulfilled. ”

Li Muchan asked, "Da Lei Yin Temple?...... Where?"

Master Jikong smiled and shook his head, his eyes were no longer calm, melancholy, annoyed, proud, yearning, fanatical, flashing one by one, as if facing the Buddha's manifestation.

"Master......" Li Muchan felt that something was wrong.

"Can't say it, don't say it...... Master Jikong shook his head and smiled, his eyes brightened, as if two lightning bolts burst out, and then a red light enveloped his body, dazzling.

Li Muchan closed his eyes, as if the red light was about to pierce his eyes, there was still a red light flickering in front of him, like a flame jumping happily.

After a few moments, the red light slowly receded, and the room returned to normal.

He slowly opened his eyes, and there was no figure on the cloud bed, only a string of red sandalwood Buddha beads, a few warm things, the size of a dragon's eye, like an agate, and the brilliance flowed.

Li Muchan sighed and shook his head, he didn't expect Master Jikong to be in such a hurry.

This is his relic, just like the ashes of ordinary people, six relics are in full bloom, it seems that Master Jikong's Zen skills are good.

Li Muchan was not surprised and strange, such a situation, he had seen it when the master was extinguished, and the Zen Gong reached a certain realm, all of which were the same, if it went deeper and reached the next level, it could turn into a rainbow of light, disappear completely, and there was nothing left.

ps: I don't want to talk nonsense and disturb your interest, but the stakes are very important, I can't help but mention it, forgive me.

Everyone's recommendation votes, collection, is very important to me, both are related to whether you can get the opportunity to be recommended, whether you can put it on the shelf, about the life and death of this book, I try to write it seriously, if everyone is sure, vote, collect it, is the greatest encouragement to me.

When I didn't write a book, I didn't have an experience, I thought that the support was all false, and I realized that the support of everyone was really a kind of power, a very powerful force, and when I wanted to be lazy, I opened the page and saw the recommended votes that had risen, and the number of collections, I was suddenly in a happy mood and had the passion for writing.