Yanan Prefecture bordered Western Xia.
The last war had taken place not far from here, at Sanchuan Pass, where the Song army had suffered a crushing defeat.
Leaving Henan and heading west, Tianming led Li Su and the others straight to Yanan Prefecture, where the martial artists had gathered this time.
The straight-line distance was nearly a thousand li, yet they took only five days to arrive outside the city of Yanan Prefecture.
Whoosh!
Li Su let out a long breath. His understanding of wuxia had taken on an entirely new dimension.
Five days meant covering more than two hundred li a day—and that was with the others in mind. If Tianming, the monk leading them, had traveled alone, he would likely have gone even faster.
Once they set out, their true qi revealed its terrifying effects.
They were like perpetual-motion machines, crossing mountains and ridges without pause all day long. Even after walking until nightfall and resting, they were drenched in sweat, but only slightly tired, with a faint ache in their legs.
After a night of circulating their qi, they woke the next morning full of energy, as if lactic acid simply didn't build up in their bodies.
No wonder Tianming had let them spend over a month preparing after word came that Western Xia was sending out its troops. Wuxia warriors and ordinary people were clearly worlds apart.
Even now, after they had reached Yanan Prefecture, more than a month had passed, yet Western Xia had only just stationed its troops along the border with the Song Dynasty, at Yanzhou, Longzhou, Hongzhou, and Yanzhou.
These four prefectures all bordered Yanan Prefecture, except for Yanzhou, which lay closer to Taiyuan Prefecture.
In response, the Song Dynasty had summoned its forces and concentrated them at Qingzhou, Yanan Prefecture, and Yongle City to resist the military conflict that was about to erupt.
At first, Li Su had been somewhat puzzled.
At a time like this, with martial artists gathering, the Song authorities should logically have been keeping watch over them—or even forbidding them from assembling.
But after arriving in Yanan Prefecture, Li Su found that they had faced virtually no restrictions on entering the city. What was more, when the soldiers on duty heard they were masters from Shaolin Temple, their faces showed reverence.
What was going on?
Did the martial world have ties to the authorities?
Seeing the puzzled looks on Li Su and the others' faces, Tianming said, "The lands around the Song Dynasty have been in a constant state of war. Leaving Western Xia aside, we've fought the Liao Kingdom countless times. Martial artists from the Central Plains take part in most major battles, fighting the First Rank Hall of Western Xia or the people of Divine Mountain in the Liao Kingdom. The authorities know we exist, and when a great battle breaks out, they grant us certain conveniences."
Divine Mountain in the Liao Kingdom?
What kind of bizarre organization was that?
Li Su was baffled. The story of Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils, which should have been so familiar, was growing ever more strange.
But then again, if Western Xia had the First Rank Hall, why wouldn't the Liao Kingdom have something of its own?
With the transformation true qi brought about, a country without an organization of martial force was practically asking for trouble.
Once a war began, they could simply send someone to assassinate their enemies. Without masters to protect them, what could anyone do?
......
As soon as they entered Yanan Prefecture, they were met by a middle-aged man, two old beggars dressed in patched clothes, and a young man.
What caught the eye was how tattered the old beggars' outer garments were. Each had nine cloth bags hanging from his body, and their auras were remarkably powerful. They were clearly men of considerable skill.
As for the middle-aged man at the front, his aura was even stronger than Tianming's.
He strode forward with the bearing of a dragon and a tiger, an unforgettable sight.
The middle-aged man came up to them, clasped his hands, and said, "I received word from my disciples that monks from Shaolin Temple had arrived. I never expected Master Tianming to come in person and bring them here. I'm sorry for the poor welcome."
Tianming pressed his palms together. "Amitabha Buddha. How could I trouble Clan Leader Guan to come out and meet us in person? I'm ashamed, I'm ashamed!"
Li Su and the others raised their brows. Clan Leader Guan? With two nine-bag elders behind him, his identity was obvious. The middle-aged man had to be the current leader of the Beggar Sect, the man who had founded the Anti-Xia Alliance: Guan Tiannan.
After a brief exchange, Clan Leader Guan gestured toward the way ahead. "Master Tianming, please come inside and talk. Jiantong, take the young masters to rest."
"All right, Master!" The young man who had come with them nodded.
"Very well." Tianming nodded, then turned to Li Su and the others. "Xuanjie, take your junior brothers and get them settled."
"Yes, Master."
Xuanjie nodded.
Xuanjie was the oldest of the Xuan generation monks who had come this time. He was one of the first disciples of the Xuan generation and older than Xuanxin. His strength also ranked among the best of their generation, on a par with Xuanxin.
Jiantong?
Li Su glanced at the young man who had spoken. That had to be Wang Jiantong, the future leader of the Beggar Sect.
The one who had been dragged into misery along with Xuanci by Murong Bo.
Still, this fellow had been lucky. He had died of illness. Otherwise, given Xiao Yuanshan's temperament, he would have met a grisly end.
Of course, perhaps if he hadn't died, Xiao Feng's identity wouldn't have been exposed so early, and the chain of events that followed might never have happened.
After Tianming and Guan Tiannan left with the others, Wang Jiantong came over and said,
"Greetings, young masters. I'm Wang Jiantong, an eighth-generation disciple of the Beggar Sect. Please follow me."
......
They actually got to stay somewhere like this?
Li Su rubbed his cheek as he looked at the inn, which was at least the equivalent of a three- or four-star hotel in the real world.
The inn was enormous. The first-floor hall alone covered several hundred square meters, and a fair number of oddly dressed people sat scattered throughout it.
When Li Su and the others entered, many people turned to look at them. The conversations around the hall abruptly fell silent.
"Young masters, your rooms are in the Heavenly Class quarters. Please come this way."
Wang Jiantong didn't leave as soon as they entered the inn. Instead, he led them toward their rooms.
"Tsk. A Beggar Sect prodigy leading the way, Heavenly Class rooms too. I wondered who they were. Turns out it's just Shaolin Temple, living off its old reputation."
The voice rang out, sharp and grating.
The speaker was a young man in a black brocade robe, seated at one of the tables in the hall.
"This is the Song–Western Xia war, and Shaolin Temple has a real sense of humor. They actually sent a bunch of 'kids' here. The 'pillars' of the martial world, indeed!"
At those words, Xuancheng and the others' expressions immediately changed.
There was no doubt about it: they weren't so thick-skinned that they could be mocked to their faces and not care.
"Wang Er, shut up!"
Wang Jiantong spoke up. Shaolin Temple had always held a place of honor as the pillar of the Central Plains martial world. Its reputation had waned in recent years, especially since none of its younger generation had come to prominence, and its prestige had declined. Even so, his master had never dared take Shaolin Temple lightly. In fact, he had always treated it with the utmost respect.
Why?
Because of its strength.
Among the sects of the world, Shaolin Temple's style was unlike any other.
Most sects saw their rising stars shine and their prodigies emerge one after another.
Shaolin Temple, however, didn't follow that pattern. It was the sort of sect that only grew more formidable with age. Don't be fooled by its apparent lack of fighting strength. Go there in person, and you'd discover just how many crouching tigers and hidden dragons it held.
For one thing, Tianming, who had led them here, had put immense pressure on Wang Jiantong. He was about on par with his master.
Wang Jiantong was destined to become the leader of the Beggar Sect. He was no fool, and his skills were no less impressive. If Li Su could see the truth of the matter, then so could he. Shaolin Temple didn't care for fighting. It was only natural for its disciples to be a little weaker than those of other sects at the same level.
But his master, Guan Tiannan, had fought his way up every step of the road. He had been through countless life-and-death battles.
And yet the two men were about evenly matched?
What was more, at first Wang Jiantong had been dissatisfied that the Shaolin Temple disciples who came were so young. This was the Song–Western Xia war. What could a bunch of children possibly do?
But as they traveled, Wang Jiantong couldn't help twitching the corners of his mouth.
He could set aside the older monks. Every one of the young monks had an incredibly steady aura, and some of them seemed to have reached the Circulation Realm.
Damn...
Wasn't Shaolin Temple supposed to be the sort of place where its practitioners only got stronger with age?
Wang Jiantong said apologetically, "I'm sorry, young masters. The war's growing more tense by the day. This bastard usually has a few too many drinks to calm his nerves. Please don't take it to heart."
Xuanjie smiled, preparing to say something.
But Wang Er suddenly shot to his feet. A trace of drunkenness still clung to him, and his anger flared as he said, "Brother Wang, I naturally respect you. But what are these little monks supposed to be? This inn was set aside by the authorities for the martial heroes who came to help in wartime. I'm not strong enough, so I accept being assigned to a shared room. But what gives them the right? Only the most renowned heroes of the martial world get to stay in the Heavenly Class rooms. They're a bunch of green little monks. Do they get in just because Shaolin Temple calls itself the pillar of the righteous path?"
"If they get to go in, I, Tong Zhan, will be the first to refuse!"
At Tong Zhan's words, everyone in the hall turned to look. Almost no one spoke, but their eyes had changed. Shaolin Temple might not have been renowned over the past century, but as the pillar of the righteous path, of course it deserved the Heavenly Class rooms.
But what right did a bunch of young monks have?