"Amitabha." The Shaolin monks all pressed their palms together. "What the master said is most true."
Even Xiao Yuanshan, who hated Shaolin to the bone, had to admit that the Sweeping Monk's words were filled with compassion and rose above sectarian prejudice.
Xiao Feng hesitated for a long time before finally asking, "Master, please save my father!"
Xiao Yuanshan's expression changed slightly. His hatred for Shaolin ran as deep as the sea, and he had never wished to ask Shaolin people for help. However, the Sweeping Monk was exceptionally detached from worldly concerns, and the pain from the injured acupoints within his body was growing increasingly severe. In the end, he silently acquiesced.
The Sweeping Monk replied, "I have already spoken of the method of treatment. As long as your father lays down his butcher's blade and returns with this old monk to the rear mountain of Shaolin Temple to devote himself to Buddhist teachings, then after a few years, the hostility within him will gradually dissipate, and his hidden injuries will heal without medicine."
Xiao Yuanshan flew into a rage. "You want to imprison me in Shaolin? Not a chance!" Xiao Feng was equally unsettled. Given the enmity between his father and Shaolin, having him stay there would be like sending a sheep into a tiger's jaws. How could he possibly be at ease?
The Sweeping Monk gave a bitter smile and shook his head. "Benefactor Xiao, you misunderstand... Ah, never mind. When Benefactor Xiao comes to understand it himself one day, come find me at Shaolin."
After answering Xiao Feng's question, the Sweeping Monk did not linger. He led the Shaolin group away.
Watching their retreating figures, Song Qingshu felt somewhat irritated. *This time, I've truly become enemies with Shaolin. Who knows how they'll try to hold me