Ou Peng invited Monk Chang Geng to have some tea, then cautiously asked, "Master, how do you think the matches below should be arranged?"
There was not the slightest sign of joy from his recent victory.
Just as Monk Chang Geng was about to speak, a dark, thickset young monk suddenly stepped out from behind him and through the crowd. Pressing his palms together in salute, he said, "Martial Granduncle, I wish to challenge the disciple who just defeated Junior Brother Yuan Liao."
Ou Peng found it rather amusing. Really, they were still hung up on that insignificant youngster. He said nothing and merely looked at Monk Chang Geng.
The old monk pondered briefly, then said, "Yuan Kong, that man has only just finished a match. If you truly wish to compete, you should at least wait for him to rest a while. Wouldn't you agree?"
The dark, thickset Yuan Kong stiffened his neck. "What does he need to rest for? Who knows what wicked art he used to make Junior Brother Yuan Liao's Acupoint Striking techniques fail? By my count, he only kicked once and threw one punch on the stage. How much strength could that have taken? A moment of breathing exercises would replenish any internal energy he used. What the hell does he need rest for?"
Seeing Yuan Kong grow agitated and even let crude language slip out, Monk Chang Geng barked, "Yuan Kong, what nonsense are you spouting? How does your master usually teach you? A disciple of the Buddhist school should follow the rules of the Buddhist school. Do not give in to anger through your speech."
Yuan Kong immediately said, "This disciple knows his mistake."
Yet he remained where he was and did not retreat.
Yuan Kong's mention of a "wicked art" also stirred