Victory by Day, Inviting the Judge by Night

"Stop!"

Chen Tong abruptly raised a hand and shouted sharply.

His cry of "Stop" was urgent and loud. Then he spat out a mouthful of blood with a "wah," no longer able to suppress his injuries.

But compared to his life, none of that mattered. If he did not admit defeat now, he feared he would be beaten to death.

"Master Yuan Zhen... possesses superb martial arts. I... willingly concede defeat!"

He gritted his teeth and spoke one word at a time.

Zhu Yingxiong halted, a flicker of regret passing through his eyes as he watched Chen Tong concede. He slowly withdrew his fists and stood still.

Only when he saw that Zhu Yingxiong had stopped did Chen Tong let out a slight breath of relief. He carelessly wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve and said hoarsely,

"Master Yuan Zhen truly lives up to his reputation. Chen... admits defeat."

With that, he did not dare linger for even a moment and immediately called to those around him,

"Back to the manor!"

The Plainclothes Sect disciples looked as though they had been granted a reprieve. They clustered around Chen Tong and retreated miserably through the gates.

The next instant, the gates slammed shut with a boom, cutting off every gaze from the street.

The long street fell silent for a moment—

Then cheers erupted like a crashing tide!

After this battle, Shaolin's Yuan Zhen would surely become known throughout Luoyang, a rising star of great renown in the martial world.

The crowd's cheers still echoed through the air, and quite a few people were already eager to step forward and make his acquaintance.

Yet before anyone could approach, Zhu Yingxiong had already turned and left.

He moved neither slowly nor hurriedly, his strides calm and swift. In no time at all, he had left that long street far behind.

After passing through two streets, his surroundings gradually grew quiet. He slowed his pace, about to find the way back to Anguo Temple.

"Master Yuan Zhen, please wait!"

A call suddenly came from behind him.

Zhu Yingxiong paused slightly, curious. Someone had actually caught up with him?

He turned around and saw a man hurrying toward him. It was the scholar who had praised his fists and palms from within the crowd earlier.

The man was dressed as a scholar, in a blue robe and scholar's cap. His features were handsome, and at first glance he appeared barely over thirty. Yet a closer look revealed crow's feet densely lining the corners of his eyes, exposing his true age—he was likely over forty.

"May I ask what this benefactor requires?" Zhu Yingxiong asked with his palms pressed together, his tone even.

The scholar hurried over, cupped his hands in greeting, and smiled broadly.

"My name is Huo Tingqi. Through the generosity of friends in the martial world, I have been given the nickname Mad Scholar. What I love most in life is making friends with heroes and outstanding figures of the martial world."

As he spoke, his gaze swept over Zhu Yingxiong's face, his eyes full of undisguised admiration.

"I was fortunate enough to witness Master Yuan Zhen's battle in the street today. It truly opened my eyes. Chen Tong has run rampant through Luoyang for years. Relying on his Iron Palm Eagle Claw, few have dared provoke him.

"Yet before Master Yuan Zhen, he could not even last ten exchanges! So young, and with such martial arts—given time, you will surely accomplish great things. I admire you greatly and have come especially to make your acquaintance."

This Mad Scholar, Huo Tingqi, operated somewhere between the righteous and the wicked. He had come to Luoyang this time because of Chen Tong and the Plainclothes Sect, hoping to make his acquaintance.

Unexpectedly, Yuan Zhen had come to challenge him, and Chen Tong had been defeated in the street. Seeing that he was only seventeen or eighteen yet possessed such formidable martial arts, Huo Tingqi naturally wished to befriend him.

After hearing this, Zhu Yingxiong understood. Unfortunately, Huo Tingqi had chosen the wrong time.

"Benefactor Huo flatters me." Zhu Yingxiong's expression remained indifferent as he pressed his palms together in salute. "This humble monk merely came down the mountain to gain experience and exchange a few moves with martial arts experts. I do not deserve such praise. If you have no other business, this humble monk will take his leave."

With that, he turned to go.

Huo Tingqi froze, clearly not expecting the young monk to be so unapproachable. He hurriedly stepped forward.

"Master Yuan Zhen, please wait! I mean nothing else by it. I simply admire your martial arts and character, Master, and would like to invite you to a teahouse for a cup of tea, as a small token of my respect~"

"No need."

Zhu Yingxiong did not stop walking or turn his head. He merely left behind a bland reply.

"This humble monk must hurry back to do his lessons. Please excuse yourself."

As his words fell, his figure had already turned into the alley ahead and vanished amid gray walls and blue tiles.

Huo Tingqi stood where he was, staring at the empty alley as the smile on his face gradually stiffened.

Only after a long while did he shake his head, give a bitter smile, and turn to leave.

By the time Zhu Yingxiong returned to Anguo Temple, it was already evening.

The setting sun cast the entire temple in a warm golden glow.

With a long cloth-wrapped bundle on his back, he entered the temple gates at an unhurried pace. Raising his eyes, he saw Senior Brother Mingjue standing beside the screen wall, seemingly having waited for quite some time.

The moment Mingjue saw him, he visibly relaxed.

"Senior Brother Mingjue." Zhu Yingxiong stepped forward of his own accord and greeted him with palms together.

"Junior Brother, you're finally back." Mingjue returned the salute, his gaze traveling over him. Only after seeing that his robes were neat and his expression normal did he lower his voice and ask,

"Word has already spread through the city about how you challenged Chen Tong, master of the Plainclothes Sect, today. I heard... you won?"

"It was only a visit to exchange pointers. I was fortunate enough to win by a move." Zhu Yingxiong made it sound as though he had merely lent someone a hand.

Mingjue shook his head slightly, but there was no joy on his face. Instead, he looked somewhat worried.

"Though Junior Brother defeated Chen Tong, the man is still a local tyrant in Luoyang. He has been entrenched here for years, with many disciples and considerable influence.

"You humiliated him publicly today. Though he admitted defeat openly, he may not be willing to let the matter rest in secret. Junior Brother, you should be more careful whenever you go out in the future."

"Don't worry, Senior Brother. I'll be careful." Zhu Yingxiong nodded, his tone as calm as ever.

Seeing that he did not seem to take the matter to heart, Mingjue could not help sighing. Still, he could not say much more and could only wave a hand.

"Forget it. So long as you know what you're doing. Go back to your meditation room and rest."

Zhu Yingxiong pressed his palms together in farewell and headed toward the meditation courtyard where he stayed.

Pushing open his door, he gently set the long cloth-wrapped bundle from his back beside the bed. Then he sat cross-legged upon it, closed his eyes, and regulated his breathing.

The room gradually darkened as twilight crept in inch by inch through the window lattice, dyeing the four walls a bluish gray.

He did not light a lamp. He simply sat quietly and waited.

As night had just fallen, the door to the meditation room was gently pulled open.

He had already begun to grow impatient.

A short while later, a figure silently slipped out through Anguo Temple's side gate. He wore a bamboo hat pulled low over his face, a grayish-brown short robe tied at the waist with a cloth belt—the attire of an ordinary wanderer of the martial world. He was completely different from the Shaolin disciple in moon-white monk's robes from the daytime.

His figure blended into the night as he sped toward the western part of the city.

The night watchman's clapper had already sounded, long and hollow.

There were fewer and fewer pedestrians on the long street. The shops, taverns, and restaurants on both sides were busy closing for the night. The clatter of attendants moving door panels and the farewells exchanged between shopkeepers and familiar customers drifted sporadically through the night wind.

At a street corner, an old man selling masks from a stall was also packing up.

He took down the masks hanging from the wooden rack one by one and carefully placed them in a bamboo basket. Some were joyful, some angry, some ferocious, some comical. Under the dim lantern light, they seemed faint and shadowy.

Zhu Yingxiong walked up to the stall and stopped.

The old man looked up. Seeing a man dressed like a martial wanderer, with his bamboo hat concealing most of his face and leaving only his chin exposed, he waved a hand.

"Sir, this old man has already closed his stall."

"Could you make an exception, sir?" Zhu Yingxiong pointed toward a mask in the corner of the wooden rack that had not yet been put away. "Could you sell me that mask?"

The old man followed the direction of his finger—

It was a Judge mask.

Its face was crimson, its beard black, and its heavy brows dark as ink. A blood-red mark was painted upon its forehead, like a split-open third eye. Its lips were tightly pressed, its bearing stern and murderous, imposing without anger. A ring of short black fur lined the mask's edge, adding to its ferocious air.

The entire mask was primarily red and black. In the night, it gave off an indescribable sense of gloom and majesty, as if a Judge from the underworld had truly appeared before him.

The old man paused, took down the mask, weighed it in his hand, then looked Zhu Yingxiong over.

"You have a good eye, sir. I molded this Judge with my own hands. It has a clay-and-paper base and more than ten layers of lacquer, much sturdier than ordinary wares."

As he spoke, he handed over the mask.

Zhu Yingxiong took it. It was heavy in his hand. His fingertips brushed over the uneven lacquered surface before lingering briefly upon the split third eye on its forehead. He nodded faintly.

"I'll take it."