Master Tianfeng

"These are orders from above, and Elder Dai Duxing requested it as well."

Ying Wanli's expression remained calm. He truly did not know who the "he" the other man had mentioned was, but since higher authorities were involved, and the imperial court would eventually announce the findings of this case, knowing too much was not necessarily a good thing for him.

This was also the fundamental difference between him and the people of the martial world.

"I understand."

Chu Liuxiang drew a deep breath.

He then recounted everything truthfully. If they considered Nangong Ling's involvement alone, trying to connect it to Fang Yunhua would be something of a stretch, so he kept certain suspicions to himself.

Besides, voicing them would do no good. The man had been able to wait for him in Putian, so close to Southern Shaolin. Even if Ying Wanli genuinely did not know that Wuhua was another mastermind behind the scenes, the person who had sent him here must already know everything.

Viewed in that light, his own role was merely that of a witness.

They were using his reputation in the martial world to set the final seal on the truth of this case.

"This happened, and then that..."

"So there was another mysterious figure behind Nangong Ling?"

Chu Liuxiang looked silently at Ying Wanli, then turned his gaze toward Putian Shaolin Temple.

He seemed to have said nothing, yet also to have said a great deal.

Ying Wanli pressed his lips together and, after a moment's thought, said,

"I'll be waiting for you at the Lin Family Garden in town over the next few days, Marshal Chu. Sorry to trouble you with a little more work."

"Heh."

Chu Liuxiang was ordinarily a very polite man, but now, apart from that dry chuckle, he had nothing else he wished to say.

It was dusk again.

Against the fading light, Chu Liuxiang glided into the Shaolin temple.

Though Putian Shaolin Temple lacked the imposing grandeur of Mount Song Shaolin, the ancient monastery, steeped in the boundless twilight, possessed a mysterious beauty of its own.

Faint bells and Buddhist chants drifted on the breeze. Beneath the fresh fragrance of the grounds lingered a trace of sandalwood, filling the air with solemn stillness. Where was there even the slightest scent of murderous intent?

The autumn wind had swept the fallen leaves from the stone steps. The great gates at their summit stood open, revealing a quiet courtyard thick with ancient trees.

Beyond it stood the majestic main hall, wreathed in incense smoke.

This was a place anyone could enter, yet no one dared enter lightly. Shaolin's name commanded awe throughout the world. Whoever came here inevitably felt reverence and caution. Though its gates stood open, who would dare take even one reckless step across the forbidden line?

The sunset filled the sky with blood. Row upon row of towering roof ridges looked like mountain peaks beneath its glow-mountain peaks stained red with blood.

Beneath which peak was Master Tianfeng? Chu Liuxiang's swallow-like flight faltered despite himself.

His figure had only paused for an instant when a Buddhist invocation suddenly rang out.

"Amitabha."

Before that brief invocation had ended, four figures flashed out simultaneously beneath the upturned eaves at the four corners of the roof.

All four wore gray robes and white shoes and were in their forties. Each stern, grave face bore a pair of eyes glittering with keen light.

Now all four pairs of bright eyes were fixed on Chu Liuxiang like blades.

Even Chu Liuxiang was inwardly startled. Just as he was about to explain himself, however, one of the monks pointed him toward a certain spot. Then, as though none of them had seen him at all, the four immediately dispersed.

Chu Liuxiang's heart sank.

He no longer used his lightness skill, but walked silently in the direction indicated. With his abilities, he could sense that beneath Southern Shaolin's seemingly quiet, relaxed exterior lay exceptionally tight defenses.

Even with his confidence in his unrivaled name as the Thief Marshal, he felt no assurance that he could come and go freely through this net spread across heaven and earth.

Who were they guarding against?

Pondering this, Chu Liuxiang passed through several meticulously arranged defensive lines manned by eminent Shaolin monks. Some would suddenly reveal themselves and, upon seeing him, point out the way before withdrawing, just as the first monk had done.

Others never showed themselves at all.

By now, Chu Liuxiang could roughly guess whom they were guarding against, and he was certain that someone was waiting for him.

After crossing a low wall, Chu Liuxiang finally reached his destination.

It was a small courtyard, dense with bamboo leaves and secluded amid lush vegetation. Within the bamboo stood three open rooms with their bamboo blinds lowered. Through the stalks, he could dimly make out two figures sitting cross-legged on the floor.

The courtyard was silent. Wind stirred the leaves, and flower shadows flowed across the bamboo blinds. The two men seemed already to be up in the heavens.

The man on the right was Wuhua.

Before him stood a small cement stove, a copper kettle, a palm-leaf fan, and a delicate little tea set. Of the three teacups, each no larger than a wine cup, two were already full. Waves of tea fragrance drifted through the bamboo blinds, mingling with the scent of flowers and bamboo, truly intoxicating both heart and mind.

Opposite Wuhua sat a gaunt old monk whose beard and eyebrows were white. He was accepting a cup of tea from Wuhua, closing his eyes as he slowly raised it to his lips.

"You mustn't drink that tea!"

Chu Liuxiang cried out instinctively, but the old monk seemed not to notice. After drinking the tea, he beckoned to Chu Liuxiang, whose expression remained unsettled.

Chu Liuxiang approached the old monk. Naturally, he recognized him as Southern Shaolin's abbot, Wuhua's master, and the final key to piecing together all his clues: Master Tianfeng.

"You're here."

It was Wuhua who spoke.

As always, he retained that otherworldly air, seemingly untouched by mortal dust. Yet Chu Liuxiang could tell that he was very nervous. Beads of sweat covered his forehead.

Master Tianfeng, meanwhile, poured the tea he had just brewed into the third, empty cup.

"Have some tea and rest a while."

"This tea..." Chu Liuxiang hesitated.

"There's no Heavenly One Divine Water in it," Wuhua said expressionlessly.

Thinking of the strict defenses outside, Chu Liuxiang looked again at Master Tianfeng, whose composure held a trace of dejection. He seemed vaguely to understand something, and simply drank the tea.

"Was this his arrangement too? But how could he have the power to command all of Southern Shaolin..."

The words had barely left his mouth when he recalled the enormity of Wuhua's crimes and fell silent.

Whether it was serving as a covert agent for Japan, stealing the Heavenly One Divine Water and getting a Divine Water Palace Disciple pregnant, or conspiring with Nangong Ling to kill Ren Ci and the four unfortunate men summoned by Qiu Lingsu-

If these deeds were exposed, the reputation of all Southern Shaolin would plunge to rock bottom.

There was also Ying Wanli, whom he had just met. That made Chu Liuxiang realize that the man had probably enlisted the imperial court's power in secret as well. Recalling One Red Dot's reports, he remembered more than one mention of the authorities' full cooperation.

"Remarkable..." Apart from offering this tribute to Fang Yunhua, whom he had met only once, Chu Liuxiang no longer knew what to say.

Of course, he still had one question.

Why wait for him?

As though he could see straight into Chu Liuxiang's thoughts, Wuhua spoke again.

"My one thread of hope for survival lies with you. Or rather, this is the only chance my master could secure for me."

"Amitabha." Master Tianfeng's face was stricken.

Originally, Chu Liuxiang should have questioned Master Tianfeng for further clues-for instance, learning that Wuhua and Nangong Ling's birth mother was named Li Qi, that she came from the Huangshan Family, and that she harbored a deep, bitter hatred for Mount Hua, which she later nearly wiped out.

Once he learned that, he would understand why Fang Yunhua was determined to hound these two brothers to their deaths.

But now, he could not bear to bring up the past again before this utterly disheartened old monk.

"Come with me."

Wuhua rose. His expression still looked as relaxed and graceful as ever. He bowed respectfully to Master Tianfeng, then quietly withdrew.

He said nothing.

Just as he was about to pass beyond the blind, Master Tianfeng suddenly opened his eyes and looked at him. That glance seemed to hold a wealth of complicated meaning.

But he, too, said nothing.