A bandit forced to become a monk

It was the third month, late spring, and the scenery south of the Yangtze was at its finest, with flowers of every kind blooming on the trees and flocks of orioles flitting about.

Outside Golden Light Temple on Yanyun Mountain, a gray-robed monk nine feet tall, with coarse, fierce features, was washing clothes beside the river at the foot of the mountain. Thoroughly disgruntled, he glared and cursed, "Damn it all! I was robbing people on East Mountain, with gold and silver piled mountain-high and beauties by the cartload. What a fine life, drinking great bowls of wine and eating great hunks of meat! Then I had to run into that bald scoundrel. He actually said I had an affinity with the Buddha, captured me alive in a few moves, and left me unable to escape no matter what tricks I tried. He dragged me to Golden Light Temple to suffer. Now I even have to starch and wash clothes like a woman? Back then, when my clothes got old, I just robbed someone for new ones. None of this bother..."

The monk was not particularly old, but ferocity spilled from his brows and eyes, giving him a face that could silence a child crying in the night. His hands were as large as bear paws, and the few monks' robes beneath them had been mangled beyond recognition without becoming the slightest bit cleaner.

A breeze carried faint singing from the opposite bank. The song was elusive and ethereal, its direction shifting, now seeming to come from the south, now from the north. Its melody twisted strangely, containing the tones of vertical flute, zither, qin, flute, pipa, and bowed fiddle. It was certainly not produced by a living person.

The burly monk snorted and pretended not to hear. When the singing found him unresponsive, it tried a few flourishes, turning tender and mournful, as though recounting endless suffering. It lingered for a long while before finally fading away.

With his ears somewhat more peaceful, the burly monk angrily gave the clothes a few careless kneads and called them washed. Just as he was about to rise and leave, the red sun suddenly leaped into the eastern sky, scattering ten thousand golden rays. Wind swept away the lingering clouds, the mist dispersed, and a bamboo basket floated down from far upstream, bobbing with the waves.

The monk stretched out both palms, conjuring a pulling force from thin air that shook the river's surface apart and drew the basket before him. Inside, he found a newborn infant asleep, wrapped in swaddling clothes and sucking on a nipple. With a downy face, a little red mouth, soft little ears, and long, curling lashes, the baby was utterly adorable, sleeping soundly with its eyes narrowed shut.

"Damn it all, a demon infant! Let me deliver it from this world..."

The burly monk was about to slap the infant into the river when a voice drifted down from distant Golden Light Temple. "Xuangang! You're harboring evil thoughts again. Bring that infant up the mountain at once. You must not harm his life!" Knowing full well that his bald scoundrel of a master had a compassionate heart but thunderous methods, the big monk dared not disobey. He picked up the bamboo basket and headed straight up the mountain, cursing without pause. Entering Golden Light Temple, he went around to the rear and walked straight into a secluded courtyard without knocking or announcing himself.

His original name was Chen Ba, and he was a notorious bandit who had run rampant through seven provinces. His martial prowess was overwhelmingly powerful, and he had never met his match.

One day, he robbed a retired court official and was about to kill him when a passing itinerant monk witnessed the scene and stopped Chen Ba. This monk's martial arts reached heaven and earth. Though Chen Ba prided himself on his superb skills and believed few beneath heaven could oppose him, he was still carried back to the temple like a kitten, forcibly tonsured, and made into a monk.

A refined-looking monk in moon-white robes beckoned, and the basket in Monk Xuangang's hands flew into his arms. He glanced inside and sighed. "Your parents' love was not tolerated by the world. Fortunately, the gates of Buddhism are broad. Taking you in will do no harm!"

Seeing his master retrieve something through the air with a wave, without the slightest trace of strain or fuss, Monk Xuangang thought, Buddhist divine powers really are formidable. After more than ten years of bitter cultivation, I've only advanced my True Qi from the acquired realm to the innate realm. At most, I can draw swords and such toward me from three to five feet away. Yet this bald scoundrel can lift a basket weighing a dozen catties from twenty or thirty paces away as easily as stretching out his arm...

When can I learn some Buddhist divine arts myself? They'd make robbing houses so much easier. While the burly monk's thoughts wandered, his "bald scoundrel of a master" spoke. "This child's parents are unable to raise him. I shall take him as my disciple. He will be your junior brother, and I bestow on him the name Xuan Ye!"

"Golden Light Temple belongs to the orthodox Buddhist tradition, and who knows how many eminent monks of profound attainment reside here. But you and I have only been here half a year as guest monks; we are not proper members of this temple. Taking food and lodging is no matter, but if we wish to adopt a child and hire a wet nurse, we must pay for it ourselves. I recall that when you came up the mountain, you had a bundle containing some gold, silver, and jewels. Take it down the mountain and find this child a sturdy woman to nurse him!"

"What? That's all my own wealth! How can you tell me to hand it over as cheerfully as if you were spending your own money..."

"Xuangang!"

"All right, all right! I give in! I'll go find a wet nurse!"

Monk Xuangang knew that his bald scoundrel of a master's word was law and that he was exceedingly dangerous to provoke. Not daring to argue further, he strode off to leave.

Suddenly, he heard the refined-looking monk say, "Your wild nature has yet to fade. Once down the mountain, you may well run away. I give you three days. If you fail to return by then, you rebellious disciple, you know your master's methods, and you know that our Shaolin disciples are spread throughout the world. You had best pray your master never finds you..." The monk gave his bandit disciple a mild glance. Monk Xuangang immediately shuddered, then stamped his feet in fury and shouted, "Bald scoundrel, you might as well kill me! How am I supposed to find a wet nurse in three days? If you wanted me to snatch the young wives of corrupt officials or wealthy merchants, I could guarantee bringing eight or ten up the mountain in a single day."

"Disciple Xuangang, enough of your idle talk. Go somewhere bustling below the mountain. There will be women from poor families who have just given birth and are willing to exchange their milk for money to support their households. Offer them a little more gold and silver, and hiring one will naturally be easy."

Though deeply unwilling, Monk Xuangang knew he could not defy his master. This bald scoundrel's methods bore no resemblance to Buddhist compassion; they were ruthless and vicious. Muttering incessantly, he obediently returned to his meditation room, took two monastic sabers and a bundle, and was about to descend the mountain when a thought struck him. Master gave me three days to return. If I find a wet nurse easily, won't I still have half a day or a whole day to enjoy myself down below? I must find some fine fish and meat. My mouth has been so tasteless lately that birds could hatch in it. At this thought, the burly monk's anger turned to delight, and he cheerfully packed up and headed down the mountain.

He had roamed several provinces as a lone bandit and amassed considerable gold and silver over his lifetime. Although most of it lay buried in the mountains and forests, and he carried only one or two percent with him, it was enough for him to scatter money like dirt and spend as he pleased.

After descending Yanyun Mountain, the big monk did not ask directions. He simply followed the broad official roads, using his lightness skill to race along for six hours. Sure enough, a rather imposing city loomed before him. With its upturned eaves and sweeping corners, the city was at least seven or eight hundred years old. Above the gate, three large characters had been written in black ink: Pangshan City.

It was said that these three characters had been written by one of the dynasty's founding generals. After winning a great victory, the general passed through this place. The magistrate of Pengshan County at the time poured out flattery and lavish praise, making the crude soldier, who knew nothing but warfare, feel comfortable from head to toe. He had therefore volunteered this piece of "precious calligraphy." Though the three characters for Pangshan City lacked a master's brushwork and were quite ugly, they were remarkably effective at warding off evil and expelling ghosts. People said that if anyone in a household fell prey to an evil wind, they needed only to be brought to the city gate and have the general's name recited aloud a dozen or so times, and they would suddenly recover without medicine.

The great Monk Xuangang had never put much faith in such tales. To him, only two things in the world could be trusted: his own fists and feet, and the steel saber in his hand. Though he had taken the precepts at Golden Light Temple on Yanyun Mountain and suffered humiliation several times at the hands of his master, Monk Kong Chan, the great Monk Xuangang remained firmly convinced that his fists and feet simply were not fierce enough, and his saber techniques were not yet fast enough.

"At Golden Light Temple, I heard monks young and old say that Pengshan County is the wealthiest county town around. With all this gold and silver at hand, I ought to enjoy myself properly. But I'm a baldhead too, and that makes plenty of things inconvenient..."

The great Monk Xuangang had spent many years roaming the martial world and knew something of human affairs. He knew that, with his vicious face and a monk's identity, never mind visiting brothels-even eating meat would earn him disdainful looks. As for finding a wet nurse, that went without saying. Thick-skinned though he was, imagining himself standing in the street shouting, "Whose household has a woman with plenty of milk? There's a little monk at the temple who needs feeding!" struck him as absurd and far too humiliating.

Thus, outside the gates of Pengshan County, the big monk first took off his robes and changed into a close-fitting black outfit. He also found a headscarf to conceal his bald head. With two steel sabers hanging at his waist, he looked every inch a bold martial wanderer as he sauntered into the county town.

Monk Xuangang casually grabbed a passerby to ask directions. Faced with his fierce appearance and the two steel sabers at his waist, the passerby dared hide nothing, telling him everything he knew and leaving nothing unsaid. In a few questions, Xuangang learned which street held the largest restaurant in Pengshan County.

Hearing that the restaurant was nearby, the great Monk Xuangang felt the gluttonous worms in his mouth stirring. Delighted, he abandoned the passerby and found the restaurant after a few turns.

"It does have some grandeur. Though it can't compare with places in great cities, it's an establishment several decades old. The cooks must have some skill. Eating vegetarian food day in and day out at Golden Mountain Temple has nearly turned my face the color of greens. If I don't have a few meals of fine fish and meat soon, I'm afraid I'll forget what pleasure even means."

Only after striding into the restaurant did Monk Xuangang discover that he had arrived at mealtime. There was not a single empty table. Looking around, he spotted a beautiful young Taoist nun by the window, delicately eating a bowl of vegetarian noodles. No one sat with her, so there were seats available. He chuckled and walked over.

As soon as he came within three feet of the Taoist nun, Xuangang sensed a thread of cold invade his body. Though his martial arts had reached the innate realm, he gave an involuntary shiver. Greatly surprised, he thought, This presence is incomparably cold. Could it be the legendary sword-baleful Yin Qi? I've long heard that once martial arts reach the innate realm, one must refine Sha Qi and Gang Qi to attain inhuman abilities. That bald scoundrel of a master has such marvelous methods but refuses to teach me. Where did this little Taoist nun learn such profound skills?

Monk Xuangang knew that by releasing sword-baleful Yin Qi, the beautiful young Taoist nun was showing that she disliked ordinary people approaching her. An ordinary person would feel surrounded by ice and snow upon drawing near, recognize her as someone extraordinary, and naturally keep a respectful distance. But he was a man whose audacity could swallow the sky. How could he have the patience to wait for a seat? With an ingratiating grin, he said, "Lady bodhisattva!"

"My mistake, fellow lady Taoist. We should help each other when traveling. Let me share your table."

The great Monk Xuangang stood nine feet tall, broad-shouldered and thick-waisted, as massive as a bear from the deepest ancient forest. Moreover, his face was vicious, and he had long been accustomed to murder and arson. Though he had received the influence of Buddhist teachings, his fierce, forbidding air had yet to fade completely. Even speaking gently, he seemed like a fierce tiger with slanting eyes springing up in broad daylight to display its might. Every diner in the restaurant was frightened, but the young Taoist nun merely chuckled and said, "Sheyang Tiger! Don't you recognize an old acquaintance?"

Monk Xuangang was slightly astonished. "How do you know the nickname I used when I roamed the martial world?"

The young Taoist nun replied, "I too have a refined sobriquet in the martial world: Chess Sword Linglong!"

Monk Xuangang started in alarm and cried, "Chess Sword Linglong! So you're Heroine Su Luoyan! Why have you come looking for me? You were the one playing that tune this morning too, weren't you?"

Su Luoyan answered, "I was even the one who delivered that infant."

Monk Xuangang gave a low chuckle. "No wonder the singing was so uncanny. It was the work of the Ten-Thousand-Year Fox Manor."

Su Luoyan gracefully saluted him. "I did not mean to disturb you, Master. I have a matter for which I must ask you to come out into the world, Mr. Chen."

Looking thoroughly skeptical, Monk Xuangang sat down with casual abandon, his expression inviting her to say whatever she liked. He was no novice in the martial world. Though Chess Sword Linglong, Su Luoyan, had an excellent reputation, he would not trust her rashly.

A trace of anger appeared on Su Luoyan's pretty face. "Recently, a lecherous villain calling himself White Chrysanthemum has been rampaging through several provinces. Not only has he defiled more than ten daughters of distinguished families and sisters of the martial world, he has also killed and injured many innocents. My younger brother sought to rid the world of this scourge, but instead fell victim to his vicious hand. One strike of his Ice Soul Finger hit the vital point at the center of his back, and he met an untimely death."

"In the several months since I left the mountain, I have heard of this villain appearing two or three times and hurried there. But that lecherous villain White Chrysanthemum moves secretively and is exceptionally skilled at escape. Each time, I failed to corner him and let him slip away without a trace."

"I know your tracking skills are unrivaled beneath heaven, Mr. Chen, so I came expressly to request your help."

"You need not worry about your honored master scolding you. I have already asked my sect's elders to intercede with Master Kong Chan. I have also hired several wet nurses and more than ten servants. Everything has been arranged."

Monk Xuangang rubbed his chin and said thoughtfully, "How much money are you willing to pay, Heroine Su?"

...Monk Xuangang: I made my debut more than ten years ago, but that damned toad thought I was too old to be the protagonist and cast me aside like a worn-out shoe...

...Kong Chan: I am as renowned as Daoist Guanlong. We are both among the finest beneath heaven...