The Monk

The jade pendant in Chen Wu's hand was a square plaque, the kind known on the market as a Peace Token. According to Old Ma, it had been invented by a master jade carver in the final years of the Former Ming.

The pendant was pure white and lustrous, with a sliver of golden skin left at the upper right corner. It was a fine piece of mutton-fat jade.

Chen Wu held the pendant, full of questions.

The person Old Ma had told Chen Wu to find was in a temple called White Pagoda Temple. But after a long, winding journey to the temple gate atop White Pagoda Mountain, Chen Wu found three large characters above the entrance: "Benevolence Temple."

Had he not spotted a brick pagoda inside from a distance, Chen Wu might have cursed Old Ma's ancestors.

Chen Wu stepped into the temple and looked around, searching for the person Old Ma had mentioned.

"Amitabha. Are you looking for someone, benefactor?" A Buddhist invocation rang out. Chen Wu turned toward the speaker.

A monk in red robes emerged from behind the white brick pagoda. He pressed his palms together, smiled, glanced at the jade pendant in Chen Wu's hand, and nodded in greeting.

Chen Wu realized this must be the person he was looking for. He hurried over to the foot of the pagoda and clasped his hands toward the monk. "May I ask your name, Master?"

"This humble monk's dharma name is Zhong Cheng." The monk returned the greeting with a smile.

Only then did Chen Wu notice that the monk wore nothing but a very thin red robe, covering only half his body and leaving one bare arm exposed.

Jincheng Prefecture lay in the northwest. Though it was already early spring, the chill still lingered. What was more, the mountain wind swept across White Pagoda Mountain, making it even colder than the city. Even with noon approaching, it was hardly warm.

Yet the monk seemed perfectly at ease in such attire. He must have some skill. Old Ma hadn't lied.

"I'm Chen Wu. A pleasure to meet you, Master Zhong Cheng." Since he needed the monk's help, Chen Wu was very deferential.

"This humble monk has only just mastered Tummo. 'Master' is too grand a title; I might barely qualify as a Dharma Master." Zhong Cheng changed the subject. "I saw you approaching from afar with the jade pendant and knew you had come with a request."

"This humble monk owes Old Ma a favor. If you need anything, just ask."

He was surprisingly easy to deal with. Chen Wu was delighted. "I only ask one thing of you, Master: the day after tomorrow, help me keep Zhang Zhihe, the chief constable of Jincheng Prefecture, occupied so he can't make himself available."

"Iron Ruler Silver Fox?" Zhong Cheng's smile grew wider. "A debt of gratitude really is best avoided. Paying it back is a killer."

"Master..." Chen Wu thought Zhong Cheng was about to refuse.

"Very well, I'll repay this favor. If I let it drag on, the interest may pile up, and I'll owe even more."

"Thank you, Master..."

"Don't thank me just yet, benefactor. I have a small favor to ask of you as well."

You're asking a favor, and you call it a small one?

Chen Wu complained inwardly, but said, "Please, Master. What is it?"

"Amitabha. Forgive me!"

The instant the words left his mouth, Dharma Master Zhong Cheng lunged with a palm strike aimed straight at Chen Wu's face. A wave of heat swept over him. Chen Wu's dantian stirred at once, setting the muscles and bones of his torso in motion. He bent backward like an iron bridge and dodged the strike. Then, driving off with his foot, he flipped to the right and vanished behind the White Pagoda, putting some distance between himself and Dharma Master Zhong Cheng.

"What do you mean by this, Master?" Chen Wu asked, baffled, from behind the pagoda.

"Excellent! Excellent!" Zhong Cheng laughed, clapping his hands. "This humble monk has only just mastered Tummo. The cold can't touch me, and I've glimpsed the gate to the seventh-tier Concentrated Spirit Realm. I'd like to ask you to test our martial arts against each other."

"Master, you're a monk. Why resort to fighting and killing?"

What kind of martial arts maniac was this? No wonder he'd agreed to help deal with Zhang Zhihe. If Chen Wu hadn't asked him, he'd probably have gone looking for Zhang Iron Ruler just to fight.

"How can a monk not fight and kill? Haven't you heard what Patriarch Linji said? 'If you meet the Buddha, kill the Buddha; if you meet the patriarchs, kill the patriarchs.'" Zhong Cheng's smile grew even brighter.

"Besides, we're only testing our martial arts against each other. At most, it's a spar. How can that count as fighting and killing?"

"Master, I haven't read many books, but don't try to fool me! Chan Master Yixuan clearly didn't mean it that way." In his previous life, Chen Wu would have been sweating yellow-faced emojis. This monk would say anything to twist an argument.

"Assassins of the Golden Wind and Drizzle Tower are ranked Heaven, Earth, Mystic, and Yellow. I've finally come across a Heaven-rank assassin. How could I not be eager to test myself against him? I'm sure even Patriarch Linji wouldn't blame me if he knew."

Zhong Cheng stared at Chen Wu as Ximen Qing might have stared at Pan Jinlian.

Damn, he was stuck with this monk!

Chen Wu had no choice. If he really were a Heaven-rank assassin, there'd be no harm in sparring with the monk. But he was a fraud. He'd used every last bit of strength just to dodge that first palm strike. Two more moves, and he'd be exposed for sure.

"Master, wait!" Seeing that Zhong Cheng seemed ready to attack again, Chen Wu hurriedly called out. "I'm not a Heaven-rank assassin. I wouldn't dare fight you."

"Benefactor, do you take me for a three-year-old?" said Zhong Cheng. "If you're not a Heaven-rank assassin of the Golden Wind and Drizzle Tower, how could you have mastered the Nine Evolutions Dragon-Expelling Art so deeply? If you're not a Heaven-rank assassin, then are you a Patrol Commissioner of the Golden Wind and Drizzle Tower?"

"The Nine Evolutions Dragon-Expelling Art?" So his original body had practiced this martial art. Guo Xuchu had probably recognized him yesterday because of it.

"Master, you're joking. How could my paltry skills be called profound?"

"Hahaha! If a seventh-tier expert in the Concentrated Spirit Realm counts as having paltry skills, then an eighth-tier expert in the Mystic Realm is merely so-so, and a ninth-tier Grandmaster has achieved no more than a little success." As if he'd heard something hilarious, Zhong Cheng burst out laughing.

Seventh-tier Concentrated Spirit Realm? So these people thought I was that powerful. No wonder Guo Xuchu and Zhang Zhihe had treated a nobody like me with such courtesy.

This monk, Zhong Cheng, really was a martial arts maniac. He knew I was a "seventh-tier Concentrated Spirit Realm expert," and still dared challenge me.

No, that's not right! I'm innocent! How could I be a seventh-tier Concentrated Spirit expert? If I really were one, would I still be begging everyone I could and throwing money around just to get help?

"Master, I really am not a seventh-tier Concentrated Spirit expert," Chen Wu said anxiously.

"The moment you entered the temple, you used your Concentrated Spirit to probe your surroundings. When I suddenly struck just now, you would never have dodged my Thousand Leaf Palm without the aura-sensing ability of a Concentrated Spirit expert." Zhong Cheng's smile didn't fade, but his eyes sharpened. "I'm already halfway to the Concentrated Spirit Realm. These eyes of mine aren't just for show."

Aura sensing? So that was an ability only Concentrated Spirit experts possessed. There was definitely something strange about Chen Wu's original body, but Chen Wu was certain he wasn't a Concentrated Spirit expert.

Dodging Zhong Cheng's palm had nearly thrown out Chen Wu's back. He'd never heard of a Concentrated Spirit expert this weak.

Helpless, Chen Wu could only change the subject. Pointing to the White Pagoda before him, he said, "I've heard this White Pagoda was built by imperial decree of the Yuan Shizu. If we fight here and damage it, I can shrug it off, but when you reach the Pure Land in the next life, how will you explain it to the Buddha?"

"Amitabha. I didn't expect you to know this, benefactor." Zhong Cheng pressed his palms together, then corrected him. "The Sakya master who came to pay his respects back then met Yuan Taizu, Temujin, not Yuan Shizu, Kublai Khan. He died on the way here, so the pagoda was built in his memory."

"Master, you're truly well read." Chen Wu hurried to flatter him.

"However, the Yuan-era White Pagoda had long since fallen into ruin. This one was rebuilt during the Jingtai reign of the Former Ming. The temple itself was expanded by the Gan Province governor in the early years of our dynasty and renamed Benevolence Temple at that time."

"I'm not showing off my knowledge. I'm saying that everything in this world comes into being, endures, decays, and passes away; nothing stays the same." As he spoke, Zhong Cheng's smile grew ever more serene. He raised a palm and stroked the White Pagoda. "It's only a pagoda. It won't matter much if a few bricks are damaged. This temple is thriving, and it has plenty of money to repair the tower."

With that, Zhong Cheng lifted his hand. A palm print stood out on the pagoda, sharp and clear as if stamped into steel. Chen Wu's heart skipped, then he heard Zhong Cheng's voice drift faintly through the air.

"While Shakyamuni was alive, no one built pagodas or temples. Only after the Buddha passed into nirvana did the sangha raise pagodas and establish temples. Clearly, a pagoda is no key to reaching the Pure Land."

I get it, you're good at martial arts. Did you really have to show off like that?

Seeing Zhong Cheng wouldn't take no for an answer, Chen Wu had no choice but to stall. "Master, I have an important assignment the day after tomorrow. I can't afford to waste my qi these next two days. Let's do this another time."

"Then when will you be free, benefactor?"

You little beast, why do you have so many questions?! Chen Wu was practically roaring inside.

"How about... seven days from now?" Since he needed the monk's help, Chen Wu could only agree for the moment.

"It's a deal!" Zhong Cheng's voice brimmed with joy.

Chen Wu felt even more troubled.

The assassination wasn't finished, and now he'd agreed to a sparring match. His debts just kept piling up!

The more he thought about it, the more irritated he became. He bit hard into the lamb skewer in his hand to vent his frustration. And he had to admit, the lamb skewers in Jincheng Prefecture were marbled with fat, rich in flavor, and free of gaminess. They truly were top-quality lamb.

The lamb stall stood on the north bank of the Yellow River, at the foot of White Pagoda Mountain, directly opposite the Iron Bridge, which had only recently been built. The owner had probably chosen the spot for its heavy foot traffic, pushing his cart there to sell noodles and grilled meat. The stall was tiny, with just two small tables and a few benches.

Zhang Zhihe's arrival had been sudden. Chen Wu hadn't even had breakfast before going to visit Monk Zhong Cheng. After coming down the mountain, he was starving, so he immediately ordered two grilled skewers and a bowl of hand-pulled noodles at the stall.

"Beef noodles, coming up!" The owner handed Chen Wu a bowl of noodles, and Chen Wu felt a rush of familiarity.

They were clearly Lanzhou noodles, the kind Chen Wu had often eaten in his previous life, though these had fewer toppings and differed in a few details. His appetite stirred. He carried the bowl to a table, picked up some noodles with his chopsticks, twirled them, and slurped them into his mouth.

"Boss, six lamb skewers and two bowls of noodles!" A crisp voice rang out. Chen Wu bit through the noodles and looked up.

A travel-stained young woman wearing a bamboo hat handed the owner a silver coin. He deftly pocketed it, then reached into his robes for her change. Chen Wu paid no attention and lowered his head to keep eating.

Jincheng Prefecture lay in the northwest, where customs were conservative. It was unusual to see a woman dining alone. But as far as Chen Wu knew, such things had become commonplace in the Great Shun Dynasty. This was especially true in prosperous regions like Jiangnan and Yue Province, where women working in the textile industry earned enough to feed and clothe their whole families. Women not only appeared in public, but even became the heads of their households.

In the Jincheng Industry Promotion Gazette Chen Wu had bought during yesterday's assassination, a certain Mr. Morality, who called himself a member of the School of Heavenly Principle, had railed against the topsy-turvy state of moral order, where "the hen crows at dawn"—the very sort of thing he was talking about.

Chen Wu was concentrating on his noodles when two more bowls suddenly appeared on the table. A slender figure sat down in front of him, set aside her bamboo hat, and picked up her chopsticks.

"Who have you offended? Someone's following you," the young woman across from him whispered. A trace of a Wu-region accent came through in her standard speech.