"Clang, clang, clang!!!"
It was the sound of a weapon striking something hard.
Early that morning, Li Ping'an was awakened by the noise.
The morning sunlight had already spilled down, and the stove cast a shadow across the floor.
Li Ping'an draped a coat over himself and walked outside.
The little monk was holding a saber, hacking away at the enormous rock in the courtyard.
Li Ping'an unfastened the gourd at his waist and took a sip of wine.
When the clanging stopped, the little monk propped himself up with his saber against the ground, taking great gulps of the cold air.
"What are you doing?" Li Ping'an asked.
"I'm practicing the saber."
"A monk practicing the saber. That's a first."
"Don't monks outside practice the saber?"
"No."
Li Ping'an thought back to Changqing and the other cultivating monks he had met. None of them used a saber.
"My master taught me this."
"Are you practicing the saber to slay demons?"
"Yes. Master said that once I could kill the demon in those mountain woods, I could go out into the world."
"How long has that demon been alive?"
The little monk froze for a moment. "A very, very long time. It appeared back in the days of Master's master, and Master's master's master."
"That many?"
"Yes." The little monk nodded. "And my senior brother, and my senior brother's senior brother..."
"What kind of demon is it, exactly?"
"...I don't know."
"Oh."
White Horse Temple. Li Ping'an found this temple rather interesting.
He had originally only intended to rest his feet here, but before he knew it, half a month had passed.
The little monk did not mind, though. On the contrary, he thought having someone to keep him company was a good thing.
Li Ping'an and Old Ox felt