ENG
Clad in red attire, with twin blades in hand,
His pristine edges dance and gleam, their spirit bold and grand.
Each swing of the blade hides another move inside,
Midlife brings wisdom, yet a crooked path to bide.
In days past, a monk wielding twin blades sought out New Thunderclap Temple, hoping to learn more advanced techniques there.
His blades were plain in appearance, thus, upon entering the New West and seeing the dazzling and peculiar weapons of the yakshas, he was filled with envy. In his childhood, he had once admired a pair of ornate blades, but his master had scolded him for his vanity: "Focusing on the beauty of your weapon will only lead you astray in martial arts."
The monk had taken these words to heart, but now, seeing that others did not adhere to this principle, he began to waver.
He approached the yakshas, inquiring about the aesthetics of their swords. The yakshas were puzzled and replied, "The more beautiful the blades, the more I want to practice with them. How could that be a hindrance?"
Still uncertain, the monk sought advice from his senior, Non-Pure, who was skilled with a monk's spade. Non-Pure replied, "Since you have already mastered your techniques, why cling to the past?"
Taking this to heart, the monk abandoned his old blades and, inspired by the yakshas' ornate designs, forged himself a pair of new, elaborate blades, hoping to fulfill his childhood dream. However, despite their striking appearance, the new ones were not the familiar, plain ones he had used for years, and with these new weapons, new flaws were revealed in the techniques he had honed over so many years.
Alas, spring gives birth, summer nurtures, autumn harvests, and winter stores. All things have their seasons. Gaining something out of season, even if obtained, is still a loss. Understanding the right moment for all things is indeed a difficult lesson to learn!
A monk in red, who fought with a pair of twin blades, went to New Thunderclap Temple hoping to learn more advanced techniques. He had trained with plain, unadorned swords for years because his master had once scolded him as a child for admiring ornate weapons, saying that focusing on their beauty would lead him astray in martial arts.
While traveling through the New West, he saw the yakshas using dazzling, peculiar blades and felt envy. The sight reawakened a childhood longing for ornate swords, so he asked the yakshas why their blades were so beautiful. They answered that the more attractive a blade is, the more it makes them want to practice, and they didn’t see beauty as a hindrance.
Unsure what to do, the monk consulted his senior, Non-Pure, who fought with a monk’s spade. Non-Pure told him that since he had already mastered his techniques, he shouldn’t cling to the past. Taking that to heart and wanting to fulfill his old dream, the monk abandoned his familiar plain blades and had a new pair of elaborate blades made.
When he began using the new ornate weapons, he discovered a problem: they were not the same as the plain blades he had trained with for years, and the techniques he had relied on revealed new flaws. His long-practiced skills did not transfer cleanly to the different weapons.
The story ends with a warning about timing and desire. Even though he gained what he had wanted, acquiring it at the wrong time and abandoning what had served him exposed weaknesses and cost him. The lesson is that wisdom and want can push you down the wrong path, and knowing when to change—or when not to—is a hard but important lesson.