Luring the Enemy In, the Mole Revealed

As daylight fully broke, he simply sat cross-legged in his meditation room and began cultivating the mental method of the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture.

This technique was truly wondrous. Perhaps because his cultivation was still shallow, he could clearly feel his qi and blood growing stronger and his internal energy deepening with each passing day of practice.

When the distant morning bell rang once more, Zhu Yingxiong slowly exhaled a long breath of turbid air and opened his eyes, a clear gleam flashing through them.

He rose from the bed and stretched his limbs. Feeling refreshed and brimming with energy, he finally pushed open the door and stepped outside.

The morning light was clear, but the chill in the mountains had deepened. By now, servant monks had already risen to sweep the courtyard.

Before he had gone far, he ran into Yuan Cheng again.

That round, plump figure stood not far off by the roadside, looking over with a beaming smile. From the look of it, he might have been waiting there deliberately.

"Junior Brother, good morning." Yuan Cheng greeted him first, naturally stepping forward to walk beside him. "You entered that treasure ground, the Scripture Repository, yesterday. Did you gain anything?" His tone was warm and friendly.

"The Scripture Repository truly deserves its reputation as the sacred ground of Shaolin martial arts. Its extraordinary techniques are vast beyond measure. After seeing them yesterday, my horizons were greatly broadened, and I gained much." Zhu Yingxiong smiled. Faced with someone like Yuan Cheng, he was willing to say a little more.

"Which finger technique did Junior Brother ultimately take a liking to?" Yuan Cheng asked. "Back in the day, Abbot Worryless became famous throughout the martial world with the Flower-Picking Finger and the Great Wisdom Unfixed Finger."

"Thank you for the reminder, Senior Brother." Zhu Yingxiong shook his head. "But there are too many finger techniques in the repository, each with its own merits. I have yet to decide which one to focus on." His thoughts shifted, and he asked along the same line, "Does your master, Elder Sorrowless, specialize in the Clear Still Finger?"

"Of course." Yuan Cheng puffed out his chest, looking immensely proud. "My master's attainments in the Clear Still Finger are acknowledged throughout the temple. However, he also cultivates the Formless Calamity Finger."

"I see." Zhu Yingxiong nodded, then asked, "And which finger technique does Elder Unattached specialize in?"

"Martial Uncle Unattached?" Yuan Cheng stroked his round chin. "He specializes in the fierce and forceful Tala Leaf Finger."

"Thank you for clearing that up, Senior Brother." Zhu Yingxiong thanked him sincerely. Though this information seemed ordinary, it gave him a clearer picture of the martial paths of the Dharma Hall's foremost figures. Whether seeking instruction or dealing with them in the future, he would be better prepared.

"No need to be so polite, Junior Brother." Yuan Cheng waved a hand. "In two days, once you have chosen an extraordinary technique to cultivate, let's have a proper spar. I've been itching to see the other finger techniques for a long time. This is a perfect chance to broaden my horizons!" As he spoke, an eager expression appeared on his face.

Seeing that his gaze was open and sincere, that he truly meant nothing beyond a simple spar, Zhu Yingxiong nodded. "All right. When the time comes, I will surely seek Senior Brother's guidance."

Zhu Yingxiong and Yuan Cheng chatted as they walked side by side for some distance. Seeing the fork ahead that led toward the main hall and the Scripture Repository, he stopped.

"Senior Brother Yuan Cheng, I'll be going this way." He gestured slightly in the direction of the Scripture Repository.

"Understood, understood. Junior Brother has Shaolin's extraordinary techniques on his mind, so naturally you must make the most of your time." Yuan Cheng waved understandingly, his plump face wreathed in smiles. "Then we'll talk again later." With that, he headed down the other path on his own, his rounded back receding with light, brisk steps.

Once Yuan Cheng had gone far, Zhu Yingxiong remained where he was, and the faint smile on his face gradually faded.

Rather than heading straight for the Scripture Repository as Yuan Cheng expected, he turned around and unhurriedly made his way back along the path he had come from.

The sun gradually climbed higher, but the deep winter chill still stubbornly lingered in the air.

The sunlight offered little warmth against his body, while the mountain wind cutting across his face made the cold feel even sharper.

The meditation courtyard where Zhu Yingxiong lived lay on the quieter eastern side of Shaolin Temple's Dharma Hall, secluded and tranquil.

Individual meditation rooms were scattered throughout, spaced apart from one another among pines and cypresses, lending the place an air of separation from worldly clamor.

Those who lived here were mostly direct disciples of the heads and elders of the various halls.

The courtyard was quiet, with only the occasional soft rustle of wind passing through the treetops. Within the courtyard, the servant monk sweeping with his head lowered had kept his head bowed all along, diligently using a long-handled broom to clear the fallen leaves.

His movements were neither hurried nor slow. Only when he reached the entrance to Zhu Yingxiong's meditation room did he suddenly raise his head and swiftly, cautiously glance to either side.

The cypresses stood still, and the stone path was empty. Aside from him, there was no one else in the courtyard.

The servant monk gently leaned the broom against the wall beside the door. Then he reached out and slowly pushed open Zhu Yingxiong's meditation room door.

Creak—

The hinges gave a faint, dry sound as he pushed the door open just wide enough for one person to pass through. He slipped inside sideways, then immediately turned back to check outside once more through the gap.

He was an ordinary-looking middle-aged monk, around forty years old. His face was utterly unremarkable, the sort that would vanish unnoticed among a crowd of monks.

He gently closed the door. The meditation room was dimly lit and simply furnished.

On that plain, expressionless face, his eyes now became sharp and focused.

He walked straight to the wooden table and, without hesitation, reached into the brass incense burner atop it. His fingertips stirred through the fine, cool ashes for a moment, then his movements stalled slightly. The item was indeed gone.

He withdrew his hand and casually wiped it on his monk's robe, then slowly swept his gaze over the entire room.

From the table to the corners, from the meditation cushion to the low cabinet, he seemed to be searching for overlooked traces—or judging which corners the room's owner might use to conceal secrets.

His gaze finally settled on the crude wooden bed. The bedding was neatly arranged, showing nothing unusual. He walked over, bent down before the bed, and was about to reach toward the hidden gap beneath it—

Creak.

The door behind him was gently pushed open once again.

The servant monk's body stiffened abruptly, and he turned around in alarm.

Their gazes collided.

Standing in the doorway was Zhu Yingxiong, who had returned, his face dark as water. He stepped into the room and closed the door softly behind him, cutting off the inside from the outside.

"This Senior Brother looks unfamiliar." Zhu Yingxiong spoke first, slowly saying, "Entering without invitation—are you looking for something? Perhaps... I can help?"

The shock in the servant monk's eyes swiftly faded, replaced by deep gloom and vigilance.

His eyes quickly swept over Zhu Yingxiong's face and body, as though assessing him and confirming something.

After several breaths, a very low sigh escaped his throat.

"When I saw you safe and sound this morning, I should have fled at once." His voice carried no emotional fluctuation. Like his ordinary face, it was entirely indistinctive.

"But you didn't." Zhu Yingxiong took up his words. "Not only did you fail to leave immediately, you even risked sneaking in here, all because you were greedy."

"It was for this, wasn't it?" Zhu Yingxiong took the volume of the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture from his robes.

Looking at the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture in Zhu Yingxiong's hand, that wooden face finally showed an expression. "I simply cannot accept it. We are both planted agents—why can I only be a servant monk?" He lowered his voice further, carrying a mocking bitterness of resignation. "You were merely luckier than I was."

With that, there was nothing more to say. The room suddenly fell silent.

Pale daylight filtered through the window paper, illuminating the two figures standing quietly in confrontation.