Damn, This Monk Was Built Like He Didn't Eat Vegetarian

Another voice chimed in. "Compared to him, even Shaolin Temple's Eighteen Bronze Men look vegetarian."

Someone else spoke in an even quieter voice. "Could this guy be a Vajra Arhat descended from Shaolin Temple? The kind specifically responsible for carrying temple gates around and smashing people with them?"

Though these mutters were quiet, Tang Sanzang's hearing was now exceptionally sharp. He did not miss a single word.

His face alternated between green and white. He wanted to lash out, but could not think of a suitable reason. These people were calling him part of the Shaolin Warrior Monk Group, which was essentially praise—just not in the direction he wanted.

He wanted to be a refined, enlightened eminent monk, not a warrior monk capable of tearing down a temple with his bare hands.

Seeing Tang Sanzang's ever-changing expression, Guangzhi grew even more nervous. He hurriedly tried to smooth things over, pressing his palms together in a salute—though his hands were crooked and his fingers still trembled.

"M-Master, please do not be angry."

Guangzhi's voice was shrill and thin, as though squeezed out through his back teeth. "This humble monk and my fellow brothers were blind. It is not that you do not look like a monk. It is simply... simply that we have never seen a monk like you before.

"Look at your build, your muscles, your bearing. When you stood in the doorway like that, even the door was blasted away by you. Of course our first reaction was to draw our blades in defense. How were we supposed to know whether the visitor was a monk or some mountain bandit king?"

He stammered through it, but his meaning was perfectly clear—you did not look like a monk, so we drew weapons. It was a misunderstanding, nothing more.

The moment