Although Iron Head Skill is a basic martial art, it still requires a lot of hard work. If you're not careful, you might have to carry a pile of bricks and repeatedly slam them onto your head. This almost self-mutilating act made Huo Yuan's heart race with unease.
Originally, Huo Yuan thought it would be difficult for him to learn, but when he opened the book and started studying, the various techniques for Iron Head Skill suddenly flooded into his mind, and his entire head seemed to change in the process.
This continued for about ten minutes, and after those ten minutes, Huo Yuan opened his eyes.
Huo Yuan was certain now. He had completely mastered Iron Head Skill, and he had reached its highest level. His head was as hard as iron. If he ever wanted to commit suicide by crashing into a wall, it would definitely not work. Even if he smashed the wall, not a single piece of skin would fall off.
It seemed that even a hammer to the top of his head wouldn't be much more than a simple itch for him now.
He rubbed his bald head and was unsure how to express his feelings. It seemed this basic martial art wasn't as useless as he thought. Even though he had acquired advanced martial arts, Iron Head Skill was still indispensable.
With the slight internal energy of Pure Boy Skill in his body and now a head that could be a weapon, Huo Yuan couldn't be considered a complete beginner in martial arts anymore. However, he still had no skills in punching, kicking, light-footed movement, or weaponry. But with his head alone, he could surprise anyone by charging into them.
However, unless absolutely necessary, Huo Yuan would never reveal his skills. There was no other reason: it would be too embarrassing. A Shaolin abbot, charging into others with a bald head, just thinking about it felt like a tragedy.
After mastering Iron Head Skill, Huo Yuan looked at the martial arts manual in his hands. It seemed to have changed. Now it was simply a manual with detailed steps for practicing Iron Head Skill. Huo Yuan was sure that if he gave this manual to someone else to practice, they wouldn't experience the same miraculous effect of mastering it with just one glance.
But that was fine. The manual he used could now be passed on to disciples. After all, one of his tasks was to turn Shaolin into the number one sect in the world. He couldn't do it alone.
He took a wooden plank and struck it on his head. The plank splintered into pieces, but his head didn't feel anything. After confirming that he had indeed mastered Iron Head Skill, he put the manual away.
Having mastered the first martial art he couldn't show off, Huo Yuan felt hungry. It had been two days since he arrived, and he hadn't had a proper meal. As his attention drifted, his hands began to shake.
Before he could go out to find Yi Kong or Yi Jing to cook, Yi Jing had already entered the room.
"Abbot Senior Brother, it's time to cook."
Huo Yuan froze for a moment. "Am I the one in charge of cooking?"
"Yes, it's always been you."
Huo Yuan thought for a moment and realized that it had indeed been Yi Jing who cooked before.
But then he remembered that the difficult part of life in Shaolin wasn't cooking—it was fetching water.
Behind the mountain of Mount Yuzhai, there was a small drinking pond, but it was more than ten miles away from the Shaolin Temple, and fetching water had always been a huge problem.
He touched his bald head and said, "It's true I used to cook, but now I'm the abbot. Have you ever seen an abbot cooking for himself? And fetching water? That's not something an abbot should do, is it?"
"What should we do then?" Yi Jing asked, somewhat slow to catch on, clearly not skilled at flattering the new abbot.
Even if Yi Jing tried flattering, Huo Yuan wasn't going to fetch water.
"It's simple. From now on, you fetch the water, and Big Senior Brother will cook. That's settled."
Yi Jing hesitated, scratching his head. "But, Abbot Senior Brother, I still need to practice martial arts."
"Practicing martial arts is fine. I've learned Iron Head Skill now, I can teach you."
"Iron Head Skill!"
Yi Jing's eyes immediately lit up. Shaolin didn't have any profound martial arts, and the previous abbot had only taught them the Tiger Subduing Fist and a half-baked set of footwork. Yi Jing, as Shaolin's top expert, was actually rather unimpressive outside the temple. When he heard that his Senior Brother Yi Jie was going to teach him a new martial art, he became incredibly excited.
"Do you want to learn?"
"Of course!"
"Alright, after you fetch water for ten days, I'll teach you Iron Head Skill," Huo Yuan set the condition, then took out the Iron Head Skill manual, proudly showing it to Yi Jing. However, after flipping through just two pages, he put it away.
"No problem!" Yi Jing was practically drooling, giving Huo Yuan's manual an eager look before rushing off excitedly.
After settling things with Yi Jing, Huo Yuan took out the old monk's scripture.
It was a damaged version of the Diamond Sutra. The old monk had been quite poor and cherished the two incomplete scriptures, never passing the full version of the Diamond Sutra to any disciples.
Huo Yuan didn't care about that. He took the scripture to find Yi Kong.
Yi Kong had long been eyeing the scripture. When he saw Huo Yuan bring it to him with the condition that he would cook in the future, Yi Kong immediately agreed without thinking.
With the cooking duties settled, Huo Yuan continued practicing his palm techniques.
After a while, it was time to eat.
Behind the small temple, there was a dining hall—just a run-down thatched hut. Huo Yuan tidied up his monk robe, walking in with an air of authority, but before he could put on any airs of an abbot, he was stunned by the food on the table.
Three dry, shriveled yellow noodles with no oil and a plate of unknown wild vegetables.
"We usually eat this?" Huo Yuan, who was already very hungry, lost his appetite completely.
"Yeah, this is it," Yi Kong and Yi Jing didn't seem bothered, sitting down to eat.
Huo Yuan couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed. Even in the old society of his previous life, the food was better than this. Who would've thought that after traveling to this world and rising in status, his living conditions would have dropped like this?
Reform was necessary, and development too. Shaolin definitely couldn't continue like this.
With the dry steamed bun in hand, struggling to swallow, Huo Yuan made a silent vow.
With food like this, Huo Yuan had no energy left. He lay down on the hard wooden bed and, lighting a small oil lamp, began drafting a plan for Shaolin's development.
This wasn't something he could discuss with Yi Kong or Yi Jing—they only knew how to beg for alms, and they couldn't come up with any good ideas.
Begging for alms was just begging for food, and Huo Yuan didn't like doing that. But right now, Shaolin was poor and had nothing, not even a copper coin. If they didn't beg for alms, there weren't many other options.
When the old monk was still around, every few months or once a year, he would perform rituals and earn a little money for their upkeep. Now that the old monk was gone, they couldn't even do that.
It seemed that Huo Yuan would have to train his big senior brother to perform rituals and earn money.
Of course, it wouldn't work with just Big Senior Brother alone. Shaolin would need to recruit more disciples—at least ten or eight monks—to perform rituals together. The more people, the bigger the scene, and they could ask for more donations.
In the past, Shaolin was all about following the will of destiny. As the saying goes, "Medicine can't cure a disease, and Buddha only saves those with fate," meaning only those destined could enter Shaolin. Huo Yuan believed that was absolutely unacceptable.
First, you needed favorable policies and rich conditions to attract a large number of people to join Shaolin. Otherwise, with so many sects recruiting disciples, why would anyone come up to the mountain to drink the north wind?
The ones who had nowhere to go, whose love life was in shambles, those who lacked confidence in life and had no will to die, might consider joining the monastery. But they probably wouldn't be able to tolerate this kind of poverty.
You could endure the spiritual hunger, but your stomach still needed to be filled.
After calculating for most of the night, Huo Yuan came up with many rules that would subvert Buddhist precepts, but for now, he couldn't share them. He hadn't yet gained the kind of authority where his word was final. Yi Kong and Yi Jing didn't truly respect him as abbot yet.
It was still important to recruit disciples—ones who were absolutely loyal. Once there were enough people and more supporters, he would announce these changes. By then, the resistance would be much lower.