Guangyi Commandery, Little South Mountain.
The mountain was lush and green, its forests deep and secluded. Toward dusk, three riders charged in, shattering the mountain's tranquility and occasionally startling birds and beasts from the roadside.
Among the shade of the roadside woods stood a small pavilion, sheltering a stone stele from wind and rain. The words "Nanshan Temple" were carved into it, their edges worn away by the years.
Song Yanqing, Xu Yitian, and Chen Guishuo reined in and stopped. After glancing at the inscription to confirm they had come to the right place, they looked up at the stone steps winding up the mountain before them. Through the dense woods above, they could vaguely make out a corner of upturned eaves. That should be where the temple stood.
Song Yanqing tilted his head in indication. Xu Yitian tapped his heels against the horse's belly, sending it charging up the stone steps. Song Yanqing followed, with Chen Guishuo bringing up the rear.
An ancient-looking temple stood atop the mountain, its surroundings quiet and secluded. A young monk sweeping before the gate watched the three men dismount and came forward to salute. "Three benefactors, it's getting late. I wonder..."
Song Yanqing shot him a cold, disdainful glance and shoved him aside, striding straight through the courtyard gate as though no one else existed. Xu Yitian and Chen Guishuo also led their horses directly into the temple through the main entrance. The monk hurriedly threw down his broom and ran back inside to report.
Before long, more than a dozen strong young monks rushed out, holding clubs and forming a line to block the three men in the courtyard. Their monk's robes had all been washed pale and looked rather shabby.
Song Yanqing grabbed a handful of money from the pouch at his waist and tossed it out. The coins clattered down at the monks' feet.
They were all gleaming gold coins. This was no small sum, and the group of monks looked at one another in bewilderment.
"Incense money. Prepare rooms for us, and feed the horses the finest fodder," Song Yanqing said flatly.
"So you three benefactors are pilgrims after all!" A supervising monk beneath the main hall's eaves cried out in realization. He hurried over, waved for the club-wielding monks to lower their weapons, and personally ushered Song Yanqing in. "The world is in chaos these days, and there are plenty of bandits in the mountains. When we saw you benefactors forcing your way in while leading horses, we thought you were villains. A misunderstanding, a misunderstanding. Please, come in, come in." He extended a hand toward the guest hall.
Someone led the three horses away to care for them, while the club-wielding monks began picking up the gold coins from the ground.
"Are you the head monk of this temple?" Song Yanqing asked as he walked with his hands behind his back beneath the covered corridor.
"No, no. This humble monk is Ru Hui, the East Courtyard Head Monk." Ru Hui introduced himself politely. From his manner, he seemed to have mistaken Song Yanqing for a wealthy patron he could curry favor with.
Song Yanqing shot him a sidelong glance. "Have your head monk come see me."
Ru Hui shook his head. "What unfortunate timing. The head monk has gone out to visit a friend and won't return until tomorrow!"
That night, the three men stayed in the guest rooms.
Not long after the cooking smoke from the temple kitchen dissipated, two young monks brought over vegetarian meals.
Once the food had been set out, the two young monks withdrew. Xu Yitian walked to the table and looked it over. There was only a single pot of rice soaked in vegetable soup—simple to the point of being pitiful.
Xu Yitian pulled out a small porcelain bottle and shook a little white powder into the rice soup. After stirring it with a spoon, his expression quickly changed. The rice soup had turned slightly black. He turned around and softly called, "Senior Brother!"
Song Yanqing and Chen Guishuo came over for a look, and their expressions changed as well. The vegetarian food was poisoned. Fortunately, they had checked it first; otherwise, no one knew what might have happened. Who would have thought that a temple that looked so respectable could do something like this?
"A bunch of bald thieves!" Chen Guishuo snarled through clenched teeth and turned to settle accounts with the monks.
Song Yanqing reached out and grabbed his arm. He beckoned the other two closer, and the three of them put their heads together and whispered for a while.
When they turned back, Xu Yitian carried the pot of vegetarian food to a corner and disposed of it. After making a few minor adjustments to the things on the table, the three exchanged nods and successively collapsed to the floor, lying motionless.
Less than half an hour later, a window in the corner was pried open a crack. An eye peered into the room, then vanished again.
Before long, footsteps sounded outside. Two club-wielding monks pushed open the door and entered, followed by an old monk in a kasaya. He was short, thin, and slightly hunched, with dark skin and a string of white whiskers. His eyes shone brightly. He was none other than Nanshan Temple's head monk, Yuan Fang.
Several more club-wielding monks poured in from outside. The East Courtyard Head Monk, Ru Hui, followed on the old monk's left, while the West Courtyard Head Monk, Ru Ming, stood on his right.
One of the disciples held up the empty pot and said, "They ate it all."
Looking at the bodies lying at their feet, the West Courtyard Head Monk, Ru Ming, pressed his palms together and sighed. "Sin, sin. Head monk, we've incurred blood on our hands again!"
Head Monk Yuan Fang sighed. "The world is this chaotic, and the people can barely survive. They can hardly look after themselves, so who would come to donate incense money? Nanshan Temple is far from the cities, deep in the mountains. Without thinking of some way to make money, where would the incense money come from? If everyone can't even fill their bellies, and the people leave until we're all scattered, how could we talk about reviving Nanshan Temple? Give me a few more years. Once I've saved enough money, I'll definitely build a grand temple in the city and fulfill the late head monk's final wish. By then, incense money will come in every day, and we won't have to do this anymore."
Several sighs rose among the monks. "Ah!"
Ru Hui waved his hand, signaling several club-wielding monks to search the three men on the ground.
Unexpectedly, a sudden change occurred. One of the club-wielding monks let out a scream as Xu Yitian kicked him flying, sending him crashing into several others in succession.
Song Yanqing also sprang to his feet. He seized a club-wielding monk by the throat and sneered, "What a gang of murderous monk-thieves!" As soon as the words fell, he twisted his hand. The monk in his grasp gave a crisp crack from the throat as Song Yanqing snapped his neck. Then he reached back and made a grabbing motion in midair. The Precious Sword behind him flew from its sheath, streaked through the air, and landed in his hand.
Three sword flashes erupted. The club-wielding monks raised their wooden staffs to block, but how could they withstand them? In an instant, flesh and blood flew everywhere as the monks were slaughtered, their screams ringing out one after another. The survivors fled in panic, leaving only Head Monk Yuan Fang, who brandished his Buddhist staff with clanging strikes to hold them back and cover the monks' retreat. A faint demonic aura emerged from his body.
"So you're a demon!" Song Yanqing sneered. He brought his sword down hard. Yuan Fang raised his Buddhist staff to block, and the shock left Song Yanqing's arm numb.
Yuan Fang was clearly no match for any of Song Yanqing and the others. Almost any one of them could beat him until he had no power to fight back. Aside from his astonishing brute strength, his cultivation truly was nothing special.
What surprised the three men was that Yuan Fang had already taken several sword strikes. His clothes were slashed into tatters, yet the sword edge could not injure him. It seemed he wore some kind of protective armor; otherwise, he would have lost his life long ago. Through the tears in his clothing, they could see something covered in fur. When the sword edge scraped across it, it actually produced the sound of metal grinding.
The three soon discovered Yuan Fang's weakness. Slashing and hacking did nothing; only thrusting could pierce his flesh. Even though Yuan Fang's hide was thick and his flesh tough, allowing him to avoid his vital points time and again, after taking several sword thrusts he began to struggle. As he dodged, blood dripped steadily onto the ground.
The fight carried them into the courtyard. Song Yanqing slightly raised his hand, signaling Xu Yitian and Chen Guishuo to stop. The three men formed a triangle around the battered and terrified Yuan Fang.
It seemed that every monk in the temple had appeared. Aside from the dozen or so who had just died at Song Yanqing and the others' hands, about twenty monks remained at the scene. All held weapons and wore expressions of terror. After witnessing Song Yanqing and the others' might, they did not dare approach, yet they also seemed unwilling to abandon Yuan Fang and flee.
Blood still dripping, Yuan Fang panted heavily as he held his Buddhist staff horizontally and slowly turned in a circle, warily watching the three men.
"Do you want to die or live?" Song Yanqing asked indifferently.
Yuan Fang gritted his teeth. "If I say I want to live, will you let me go?"
"Of course it won't be that simple," Song Yanqing replied. "If you want to live, serve me. As long as you obey, I'll help you fulfill your wish of building a temple in the city, and I'll even have the Imperial Court give you an official identity. Otherwise, wherever you go, your life will be in danger. Those cultivators who slay demons and vanquish evil won't easily let you off!" He turned his hand and revealed a token.
The character "Xing" on the token made Yuan Fang's pupils contract...
A short while later, the monks, mourning the dead as though the rabbit and fox grieved together, began clearing away the corpses of their own people. Song Yanqing and the others went to another set of clean guest rooms.
Inside the guest room, with Song Yanqing and the others watching, Yuan Fang had his wounds bandaged and sent his disciples away. The golden fur covering his body made everything clear to Song Yanqing and the others. He was merely an underdeveloped demon who still could not completely transform into human form.
As Yuan Fang put his clothes back on, Song Yanqing asked in puzzlement, "As far as I know, Nanshan Temple has existed for quite some time. How could a group of monks let a demon like you become the head monk?" He had confirmed with a single exchange that the other monks were genuine humans. Yet their head monk was a demon—how could that not be strange?
Carefully dressing himself to avoid reopening his wounds, Yuan Fang gave a bitter smile. "Actually, I'm not Head Monk Yuan Fang..."
After he slowly explained the truth, Song Yanqing and the others finally understood. The real Head Monk Yuan Fang had already passed away two years ago. As for him, he had been a bear picked up and adopted by the monks of Nanshan Temple two hundred years earlier. Perhaps because he often listened to Buddhist teachings, he gradually gained spiritual awareness and worked out a method of absorbing the spiritual energy of Heaven and Earth. Slowly, he developed cultivation and began practicing in the mountains. When he had cultivated enough to start transforming, his model for transformation was Head Monk Yuan Fang. Thus, he took on Yuan Fang's appearance. His cultivation was insufficient, however, so the transformation remained incomplete and still needed improvement.
Just as he had said, the world was too chaotic, and maintaining Nanshan Temple was extremely difficult. While Head Monk Yuan Fang had still been alive, he had been the one constantly obtaining wealth from outside to support it, allowing Nanshan Temple to barely avoid collapse. When Head Monk Yuan Fang passed away, he did not want Nanshan Temple to fall apart, so he entrusted it to him. But in order to fulfill the late head monk's final wish, this fellow began leading a group of monks in shameful deeds. Not only did they murder people for money inside the temple, they also led the monks of Nanshan Temple to ambush travelers by the roadside and rob them. Some monks had been willing to live off the wealth he quietly brought back, but they could not bear to commit such acts themselves. What kind of Buddhist disciples robbed people? They left, and of the hundred or so people, fewer than half remained. As a result, this latest attempt to murder for money had landed them in Song Yanqing's hands.
"I've actually done quite a few good deeds too. There were several groups of bandits who had taken to the forests around here, and I secretly led Nanshan Temple's disciples to wipe them out. Whenever one group appeared, we'd clear them out. Those bandits were too vile. They robbed anyone they saw, and whenever they encountered women, they dragged them back to their strongholds. We were different—we only robbed the wealthy and never took the slightest thing from the poor. When we had a particularly rich haul, we'd occasionally go to the nearby villages and distribute some grain. If you don't believe me, you can ask around. Ever since I became head monk, the villages nearby have never needed to worry about bandits again. They can even leave their doors unlocked at night. They don't know that Nanshan Temple solved their troubles, but all they say is that Nanshan Temple is good. Not a single bad word! Nanshan Temple's reputation in the surrounding area is absolutely spotless!" Yuan Fang emphasized this point repeatedly, clearly intending to prove that he was actually a good person.
After hearing him out, Song Yanqing and the other two were left dumbfounded. They regarded this head monk with stunned awe. What kind of temple head monk was this? He was clearly the gang leader!