Song Qingshu's expression changed. Before this person spoke, he had not sensed his presence at all. That showed just how high his martial arts were.
Turning around, he saw a gleaming bald head. Song Qingshu froze inwardly. Since when had Shaolin Temple possessed such an expert? He had dealt with Shaolin Temple quite a bit, both Southern Shaolin and Northern Shaolin, but in terms of martial arts, there were only one and a half people he truly regarded highly. One was the Sweeping Monk, while the half was Thirteen Absolute Divine Monk Xuancheng. Yet Xuancheng had already been crippled by him, and this man was not Nameless. It had to be said that Shaolin truly hid crouching tigers and concealed dragons.
"May I ask who this master is?" Song Qingshu's gaze fell upon the large gourd at the man's waist, and his expression became extremely peculiar. Given that the man's martial arts had reached such a level, he had assumed he must be an enlightened eminent monk. But did eminent monks drink too?
"I once had a Dharma name, but it has been so long that I forgot it. Mm, the thing I have been proudest of in my life was drinking Wang under the table all those years ago. You may call me the Wine-Drinking Monk." The old monk muttered as though reminiscing.
"Wine-Drinking Monk!" Song Qingshu knew the plots of the Jin novels well, so how could he not know this famous figure? Yet in the original tale, the monk had existed only in legend. Now, he stood alive before him.
"So you have heard my name?" Noticing his reaction, the Wine-Drinking Monk was somewhat surprised. He had spent all these years roaming the martial world, and very few people knew of him.
"To defeat Wang Chongyang, Number