According to Meiduo’s translation, the book was divided into three volumes, three sections. The first volume, Mahāmudrā of the Ganges, detailed the cultivation methods for the Accomplished Mahāmudrā, the Bliss-Void Mahāmudrā, and the Luminous Mahāmudrā.

After Meiduo finished translating this volume, Li Yundong fell into deep thought. Although the first volume introduced these three Mahāmudrās, it primarily focused on Buddhist practice and asceticism, failing to address the most crucial element: the "Combat Method."

Cultivation, much like martial arts, possessed three distinct layers: theory, practice, and combat.

Some people were merely skilled with words—eloquent talkers who could spin tales and rise to high positions in sports committees, gathering disciples far and wide. Yet, these individuals only spoke without practice, possessing no actual skill, let alone combat readiness.

Others only knew how to practice, which amounted to health cultivation. The reason martial arts remained a national treasure wasn't solely its fighting prowess, but because it was the only fighting discipline globally that seamlessly integrated health preservation with combat application. Some masters lacked real fighting experience; they could execute forms flawlessly but faltered immediately in actual combat.

Then there were those who only knew how to fight—their skills forged entirely in real battles, making them formidable. However, just as a swimmer might drown or a skilled rider be thrown from a horse, fighters who neglected health cultivation often died young.

Throughout his journey of cultivation, Li Yundong had pondered this issue extensively and realized what he lacked most was the "Combat Method!"

Faced with an enemy, how should he fight?

In the past, Li Yundong could spar with Lin Youfa using basic fist and foot techniques. But against Ruan Hongling, if his innate Tóngzǐ Yuányáng blood had not naturally suppressed her, he would surely have died then.

Especially after encountering Ao Wushuang, Li Yundong was completely stunned by her incredible divine abilities and sorcery. He had absolutely no idea how to counter such magic!

The women Li Yundong had encountered, Su Chan and Ziyuan, were adept at speaking, practicing, and fighting. Li Yundong vaguely sensed that to ascend to the ranks of the truly top masters, theory, practice, and combat were all indispensable!

Without theory, it was difficult to attract disciples; without disciples, one lacked influence and would constantly be bullied—a person couldn't always fight their own battles, after all.

Without practice, one's foundation was weak; even if the initial establishment of Zhùjī was successful, it would be a false core, shattered instantly by a strong opponent.

Without combat ability, one was merely a gilded vase—no matter how many disciples one had or how solid the foundation, if one couldn't defend against an incoming attack, everything else was empty talk.

Only the unity of all three constituted the true way!

Li Yundong had already grasped the essentials of cultivation theory, speaking persuasively and eloquently. As for practice, he had honed himself like fine steel refined a hundred times. The only element missing was the "Combat Method!"

When he first obtained the Mahāmudrā Esoteric Sutra, Li Yundong expected it to be like a martial arts secret manual. But after listening to Meiduo translate for a while, a sense of quiet disappointment began to settle in.

In truth, the first volume mirrored the Huangdi Neijing in spirit: the Neijing explained the viability of cultivation from a medical perspective, while this first volume explained the feasibility of Mahāmudrā cultivation from a Buddhist philosophical standpoint.

After digesting the contents of the first volume, Li Yundong had Meiduo begin translating the second.

The content of this second volume was even more diffuse, dedicated entirely to stories about the Six-Syllable Mantra of Buddhism. While lively, engaging, and thought-provoking, Li Yundong felt even more let down.

When they reached the third volume, Meiduo suddenly looked up, blinked her eyes, and declared, "It's over..."

Li Yundong was momentarily stunned. "What's over?"

Meiduo handed him the book. "The rest of the volume is all pictures!"

Li Yundong took the book and saw it was filled with countless hand seals, each inscribed beneath with a few lines of text, rendered in both Sanskrit and Tibetan.

He pointed to one illustration and asked, "What does this say?"

Meiduo replied, "This is the hand seal of Mahāvairocana Tathāgata."

Li Yundong’s heart stirred. He pointed to another picture. "And this one?"

Meiduo chuckled. "This is the hand seal of the Celestial Drum Thunder Sound Tathāgata."

Staring at these seals, Li Yundong instinctively wondered: Given the strange postures of these seals, could the secret of this book reside within them?

With that thought, he began unconsciously imitating the hand seals one by one.

Meiduo watched Li Yundong sit cross-legged on the cart, his fingers flying, shifting from one mudra to the next, his expression solemn. He genuinely had the air of a Buddhist disciple. She couldn't help but laugh. "You're learning quite well, you look the part!"

After holding a series of finger configurations, Li Yundong felt no unusual sensation, nor did it seem like a technique for fighting. Feeling slightly puzzled, he tilted his head in thought. After a moment, he pointed to the words beneath the illustrations. "What do these say?"

The characters were very brief, resembling one or two foreign words. At first glance, Meiduo had automatically overlooked them. She looked closer and said, "These are Buddhist mantras."

Li Yundong immediately asked, "Which mantra?"

Meiduo smiled. "Of course, it’s the Six-Syllable Mantra of Buddhism: Om Mani Padme Hum!"

Li Yundong paused, then an excited thought struck him: Could each hand seal correspond to one Buddhist mantra?

He quickly asked, "Then what is the mantra written below the Mahāvairocana Tathāgata seal?"

Meiduo answered, "It is the Om from the Six-Syllable Mantra."

Li Yundong silently noted it down. He wanted to test the effect of combining this Mahāmudrā with the Six-Syllable Mantra right then, but noticing the deepening twilight and the crowd around them, he suppressed the urge. Instead, he urged Meiduo to translate all the remaining illustrations and text, committing them all to rote memory.

The two leaned close together on the cart, appearing intimately engaged, which caused the eyes of several young Tibetan men interested in Meiduo to turn red with jealousy.

One young man snorted coldly. "Are we just going to stand by and watch this Han man take away our most cherished, most beautiful snow lotus?"

Another replied, "What can you do? This Han man doesn't look like soft, easily molded dough; we couldn't even tire him out when we ran ahead of him. What's your plan?"

The first speaker scoffed, "Tonight I will challenge him to a wrestling match. I don't believe he can beat me in grappling!"

Tibetans and Mongols shared similarities, both deeply fond of wrestling and grappling, viewing it as the ultimate proof of a man's capability. Success in such contests easily earned the favor of beautiful Tibetan maidens.

Once the first young man spoke, the others grew excited, whispering among themselves, planning to give the young outsider a lesson.

As they were enthusiastically plotting, Qiangbagela suddenly sprinted back from the front of the procession, shouting loudly, "Something happened up ahead! Go help out quickly!"

Qiangbagela held immense authority. As soon as he spoke, the group of young Tibetan men bolted after him.

Li Yundong, who had been intently studying the mantra-mudra combinations in the back of the cart, witnessed this scene. He suddenly asked, "Right, why do some of you address him as Qiangbagela, while he calls himself Qiangba? Is his surname Qiang and given name Ba, or is his surname Qiangba and given name Gela?"

Meiduo burst into laughter, her voice like the ringing of silver bells, exquisitely charming. "We Tibetans don't have surnames, only names. Qiangba is his name; Gela means grandfather. Sometimes, when Tibetan names are repeated, we add a word or two before or after to distinguish them."

Li Yundong laughed heartily. "So that’s how it is. What about you, Meiduo? What does your name mean?"

Meiduo’s cheeks flushed slightly, a mixture of smugness and pride in her voice. "Meiduo means a flower blooming on the plateau."

Li Yundong smiled. "You certainly live up to your name."

Meiduo looked at Li Yundong with shining, intense eyes. "Really? Do you think I’m beautiful?"

Li Yundong’s heart skipped a beat under Meiduo’s gaze. For the first time, he realized the depth of her affection for him, murmuring to himself: This girl, could she actually have feelings for me?

Unwilling to reciprocate Meiduo’s enthusiasm, Li Yundong changed the subject, pointing towards a gathering crowd in the distance. "What’s happening over there?"

Meiduo felt a pang of disappointment. She straightened up, craned her neck to look, and said, "I don't know, but we can find out if we go look, right?"

With that, she boldly took Li Yundong’s hand, hopped off the cart, and laughed at him. "Hurry, let's go see what's happening up front."

Li Yundong was surprised by Meiduo's audacity and instinctively tried to pull his hand back. However, Meiduo held on tightly, and after one failed attempt to withdraw, he felt too awkward to forcibly pull free, fearing he might hurt the young, beautiful girl.

The two ran forward hand-in-hand. The surrounding Tibetans began whispering as they saw the pair holding hands, but Meiduo ignored the stares and pulled Li Yundong through the crowd.

Li Yundong looked closely and saw a jeep whose rear wheel was deeply sunk into a mud rut. Two foreigners were straining to push the vehicle from the front, while a group of young Tibetan men pushed vigorously from behind. Standing beside them was a strikingly beautiful black-haired woman—the Chinese tour guide, Liu Xia, whom he had met once before.

"It's them?" Li Yundong murmured, recognizing the two foreigners.

It was summer on the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, and the road wasn't well-maintained. For some reason, the jeep had slid into the mud pit beside the road. Despite the combined efforts of the Tibetan youths and the burly foreigners, the jeep wouldn't budge.

Meiduo couldn't help but say to Li Yundong, "Shouldn't you go give them a hand?"

Li Yundong nodded. "Alright."

The Tibetan youths who had been pushing the car instantly flared with jealousy upon seeing Meiduo clinging tightly to Li Yundong’s hand. As Li Yundong approached, they simultaneously stood up, stopped pushing, and moved to the side, intending to let Li Yundong struggle alone and watch him fail.