Yunying seeks refuge as a sword-bearing maid; the Buddhist disciple sends a false Xingkong

As Wang Chong's thoughts turned vicious, he could not help feeling a little guilty. Tie Mingzhu is innocent too. How could I kill her just to protect myself?

Why not try Zhang Ailing's Lust, Caution theory?

Perhaps after this, that, and then that, her soul will have been elevated, and she'll be able to keep the secret?

Hmm, quite a dilemma!

Why is being a good person so hard?

Being a bad person is much simpler. Both options are easy. Wang Chong's head was full of thoroughly unharmonious thoughts. He could not bear to kill, but not killing would compromise his moral integrity.

Each of the three had their own thoughts, and the atmosphere grew exceedingly awkward. In the end, Nan Xinlan gathered her courage and said, "After suffering such a thing, I no longer have the face to go on living. But my parents are still alive, and thinking of them, I cannot bear to kill myself. I wanted to enter the Buddhist order and spend what remains of my life beside a dim lamp in an ancient temple. Sister Mingzhu feared something would happen to me and kept trying to dissuade me along the way, telling me not to act rashly."

"But no matter how I think it over, there is no way left for me to live!" At this, grief welled up within Nan Xinlan, and she wept without stopping.

Wang Chong had quite a headache himself. He was no good at handling this sort of thing!

Besides, he was a transmigrator. For modern women, having a few ex-boyfriends was child's play. They would hardly threaten to kill themselves, nor would they need anyone to talk them around. They would eat and drink as usual, and would not even spare a kind word for the man left holding the bag, let alone lower their standards.

Urging someone to become a nun was certainly wrong, but urging someone not to become a nun...

After fretting for a while, Wang Chong suddenly saw the light and let it go. What the hell did this mess have to do with him? With a faint smile, he said, "Life's road is long. This is but a passing stumble. Years from now, Miss Nan, when you look back upon it calmly, it will be no more than a vexing autumn wind."

Nan Xinlan had never drunk such rich chicken soup for the soul. For a moment, she was dazed, then began to ponder.

Tie Mingzhu was astonished to hear this. This lecher actually has some literary talent!

Wang Chong thought, I shouldn't get too entangled with them. I'll find an excuse to part ways first, then follow them and act as the opportunity arises.

He smiled faintly and said, "I came out late at night to practice. Now that it is broad daylight, I was just about to head back. Would you two care to come along?"

Naturally, Nan Xinlan did not wish to, and Tie Mingzhu dared even less to "wish to." Once both women had clearly declined, Wang Chong left with easy grace. Using his lightness skill, he raced several li away, glanced back to make sure no one was around, then immediately doubled back at full speed. Half an incense stick later, he had caught up with Nan Xinlan and Tie Mingzhu.

Wang Chong's lightness skill was extraordinarily accomplished. Recently, he had come into contact with several experts, including Qian Luoyi, Monk Xuangang, Su Luoyan, Lu Moniang, Li Qingge, and Sun Mingke, and discovered that none of their lightness skills matched his own, though the difference was exceedingly slight.

On a nearby hilltop, Monk Kong Chan stood watching Wang Chong with his disciple. This supreme master of the age exclaimed admiringly, "My disciple Xuangang, your junior brother has a kind and generous heart. He had already left, yet he could not stop worrying about this young woman and followed her in secret. Such a person is rare indeed in this world."

"From now on, follow him and serve as his companion. There will be boundless benefits for you. But you must never say that you are a Shaolin disciple, nor say that you and I share the bond of master and disciple."

The burly Monk Xuangang immediately grew furious and roared, "You bald scoundrel! Why are you ordering me around like your personal servant?"

"Why should I go and serve as his companion? What makes him worthy?"

Monk Kong Chan smiled faintly and said, "If you become his companion, I will teach you the Withered Meditation Method. You should know that I do not ordinarily teach this meditation art to others."

"To learn even one of the Borobudur Great Buddha Temple's four great meditation arts is a supreme affinity with the Buddha."

"Dry Meditation ranks first among the four and is beyond compare. Once you master it, no demon under heaven will dare approach you."

The burly Monk Xuangang immediately sensed something amiss and shouted, "Why aren't you teaching me Shaolin martial arts? Why teach me some trash martial art from the Borobudur Great Buddha Temple instead? You old monk! You want me to be a servant, and you're still holding things back. You're no decent human being!"

Monk Kong Chan laughed. "The Borobudur Great Buddha Temple is one of the Three Great Buddhist Monasteries of the West. At its height, it had forty-eight thousand monks, yet only six or seven could learn the Withered Meditation Method. Are you still not satisfied?"

The burly Monk Xuangang was only half convinced. He was an outlaw of the greenwood, had never studied books, knew nothing of Buddhist or Daoist lore, and had no idea what this Dry Meditation thing was. He could only play along. "This disciple thanks his teacher. Since this method is so powerful, teach it to me first. Once I've learned it, I can slay demons, vanquish devils, and perform countless meritorious deeds."

Monk Kong Chan shook his head. First, he ordered his thoroughly uncouth disciple to sit down, then declared, "Dry Meditation is one of the Borobudur Great Buddha Temple's four great meditation arts. The teaching must not reach a sixth ear, nor may it be lightly imparted to those without the affinity. Swear a solemn oath that you will not use the meditation art I teach you to do evil, and only then will I teach you."

Reluctantly, Monk Xuangang swore, "I, the disciple Xuangang, having learned the Withered Meditation Method from my master Kong Chan, shall seek the Buddha with all my heart and aspire only to become a patriarch. I shall never imitate those demonic monks, lecherous monks, thieving monks, and damned bald donkeys of the Buddhist order who commit every evil and keep company with demons and heretics. If I break this oath, may a thousand thunderbolts strike me every day."

Monk Kong Chan could do nothing with this disciple. Though he had been gratuitously cursed several times, it was hardly worth getting angry over. He proceeded to impart the Withered Meditation Method and had Xuangang begin practicing it.

The Withered Meditation Mind Method was not particularly complicated. Its first threshold required only that one sever all distracting thoughts. Though Xuangang was coarse and wild by nature, he was truly a martial genius of a kind rarely seen in an age. After closing his eyes for only a short while, he cut off every distracting thought in his heart. Even his large, formerly ferocious face took on a measure of solemn dignity and a hint of withered dryness.

Were it not for his astonishing talent, Kong Chan would not have taken him as a disciple for no reason, much less patiently instructed him for half a year. It was not as though Shaolin Temple lacked young monks. They simply failed to meet Kong Chan's standards.

After watching for a while, Monk Kong Chan exclaimed admiringly, "Not bad, not bad. Bringing this scoundrel back to the monastery was not in vain. He truly has an affinity with the Buddhist teachings, to cross the threshold of even this exceedingly difficult Dry Meditation. Who knows how many disciples of our temple, deeply accomplished in Buddhist teachings, have been stopped at this very hurdle of extinguishing distracting thoughts, unable to take even half a step through the door."

Of the Borobudur Great Buddha Temple's four great meditation methods, Dry Meditation ranked first, but it was also the hardest to cultivate. This method required one to cultivate the heart until it resembled the withered branches of an ancient tree, seeking vitality amid extinction and life amid death. In the seventeen hundred years since the Borobudur Great Buddha Temple's founding, only a scant dozen or so among its countless eminent monks had mastered it. Often, an entire generation produced no genius capable of mastering it; only after several generations would a virtuous, eminent monk emerge who could accomplish this meditation art.

Kong Chan paid no further attention to his disciple, who was contemplating Dry Meditation. Gazing into the distance in the direction Wang Chong had vanished, he intoned the Buddha's name and murmured to himself, "Though the Empress of this dynasty came from Wudang, this dynasty's state religion need not necessarily be Wudang Mountain, nor need its State Preceptor necessarily be Ku Cha."

By now, Wang Chong had caught up with Nan Xinlan and Tie Mingzhu. He was just about to put on his mask and give Tie Mingzhu a Chrysanthemum Kill when he suddenly heard Nan Xinlan say, "Iron Sister, my reputation is ruined. I cannot return home, nor can I enter a convent. I have decided to conceal my name and surname and live out my life that way."

Tie Mingzhu sighed. "And how do you intend to conceal your name and surname?"

Nan Xinlan answered, "I'll go and become Young Master Wang Chong's sword-bearing maid!"

Tie Mingzhu's vision went black...

...Tie Mingzhu: You want to become White Chrysanthemum's maid? Isn't that delivering yourself right into his hands...?

...Nan Xinlan: Young Master Wang Chong must be a respectable man...

...Wang Chong: I'm not...