"Great Vajra Monastery?" Everyone looked at one another in surprise.
Although the Prince of Zhenxi's Manor and Great Vajra Monastery were neighbors, their relations were far from cordial. Great Vajra Monastery was not merely a martial sect; the agricultural estates and wealth held under its banner far exceeded the scope of any ordinary pugilistic faction.
Take the Taihua Sect, also situated in Hexi Circuit, by way of comparison. The Taihua Sect possessed only a few farming manors at the foot of their mountain, along with some shops run by outer disciples in the surrounding towns. For the rest, they relied entirely on tributes from minor powers within their sphere of influence to sustain the hundred or so members up on the mountain.
Great Vajra Monastery, however, was an entirely different story. Not only were they on excellent terms with the local authorities, but their landholdings and farming estates were scattered throughout Daxing Prefecture, and their commercial ventures in the towns and cities dwarfed those of the Taihua Sect.
Because of this vast foundation, Great Vajra Monastery housed nearly a thousand monks and countless experts. In name, they stood alongside the Taihua Sect as one of the two great orthodox sects of Hexi Circuit, but in terms of comprehensive strength, they were far superior.
Qianqian glanced toward Wang Yu, a teasing look in her eyes.
Wang Yu instantly caught her meaning. She was teasing him for seizing the Snow Lotus Jade Marrow Pill at Baolun Monastery, guessing that Great Vajra Monastery had now come knocking to settle scores.
Before Wang Yu could answer, Li Yunxiu spoke up. "Though Husband acted forcefully that day, what you said held some truth. If Great Vajra Monastery lacks even this much magnanimity and lets rumors spread of them harboring bandits to enhance their own importance, it will sound terrible for their reputation."
Zhao Rong asked, "Who has come?"
The gatekeeper replied, "He calls himself Zongjian."
Zhao Rong's eyes narrowed slightly. Turning to Wang Yu, he said, "Monk Zongjian is the head of Great Vajra Monastery's Xumi Court. I will go receive him."
The Xumi Court was the hall through which Great Vajra Monastery managed its agricultural lands and shops and dealt with its pilgrims and outer disciples. Outsiders rarely interacted with it, but as their neighbor, Zhao Rong knew it well.
With nearly a thousand monks, Great Vajra Monastery was divided internally into numerous halls and courts, such as the Discipline Court, the Maha Court, and the Arhat Hall. The one ordinary martial artists encountered most often was the Guest Reception Court, as it was responsible for handling anyone who came to pay respects or issue a challenge.
Regardless of which court it was, anyone serving as its head was bound to be a Xiantian expert.
Wang Yu nodded. "Thank you for the trouble, Uncle Rong."
Even though Zongjian was a Xiantian expert and the head of Xumi Court, he was not the abbot of Great Vajra Monastery. In terms of standing, he was on par with the head steward of the Prince of Zhenxi's Manor. Having Zhao Rong receive him was more than sufficient.
The group set down their chopsticks and waited in the reception hall. Moments later, a sudden commotion broke out in the front hall, followed by the shrill alert whistles of the manor guards and harsh shouts from unfamiliar voices.
"What's going on?"
"They're already fighting?"
Wei Gutong and Yan Ziyu were the quickest. In a flash of shifting silhouettes, both vanished from the reception hall.
***
Wang Yu and the others rose immediately and made their way through the rear halls to the front hall. There, several dozen guards blocked the front entrance in tight formation, swords drawn and sabers unsheathed, watching the intruders with predatory intensity.
In the center of the hall stood Zhao Shan, Zhao He, and several elite guards behind Zhao Rong. Facing them were five or six middle-aged monks in Buddhist robes, led by an elderly monk with graying hair and beard who was locked in combat with Zhao Rong.
Zhao Rong swung his hand like a blade. Though he held no steel in his grip, every downward chop whistled with a searing wave of heat. The razor-sharp aura fluttered the surrounding drapes as if a blazing fire-cloud had ignited, whipping up scorching gusts in all directions.
The old monk before him proved just as unyielding. His expression solemn, he stood firmly in a half-turned horse stance, shifting his feet scarcely at all as he countered motion with stillness. When his twin palms thrust forward, they hit like vajra drills piercing a mountain—their force robust and domineering, billowing Zhao Rong's robes.
Even so, the old monk dared not take Zhao Rong's hand-blade head-on with bare palms.
"The Great Vajra Palm force is nothing special after all!" Zhao Rong sneered, slashing his palm upward at an angle.
The old monk's ears twitched. Shifting his hands, he intercepted Zhao Rong's strike with the outer edge of his left palm, neutralizing the force as he yielded to it. Then, slamming the outer edge of his right palm against Zhao Rong's strike in a hard clash, he bounded back ten feet.
"Amitabha. Almsgiver's Fire Cloud Saber Technique is indeed exquisite, but scorching fire consumes the flesh, exacting far too great a toll. The higher one's attainment, the harder it is to endure." Exhaling a breath laden with sweltering heat, Zongjian pressed his palms together.
Zhao Rong did not budge an inch, replying with a cold scoff, "Our Prince of Zhenxi's Manor has no need for a monk's concern. You had better worry about your own affairs."
A monk behind Zongjian snapped, "We came here precisely for our own affairs! Who cares whether the cultivation techniques of the Prince of Zhenxi's Manor shorten your lives!"
Zhao Rong cast a sidelong glance at the monk and raised his hand, unleashing an air blade.
As the surging gust tore across the floor, Zongjian blurred into motion, blocking the attack in front of the younger monk and shattering the blade of energy with a single Great Vajra Palm. "Amitabha. Why must Steward Zhao vent his anger on a junior?"
Zhao Rong gave a derisive snort. "An eminent monk of the Hong generation—since when did he count as a junior?"
Zongjian pressed his palms together in a salute, then looked toward the screen at the rear of the hall. "I wonder when two more experts joined the manor? Please, show yourselves."
Wei Gutong and Yan Ziyu walked out hand in hand, clasping their fists. "Greetings, Master Zongjian."
Realization dawned on Zongjian. "So it is the worthy couple Gutong and Ziyu. This old monk did not know you shared ties with the Prince of Zhenxi's Manor."
Wei Gutong smiled faintly without confirming or denying it. "Master has come to the prince's manor, presumably to discuss matters. Why have hands been raised against Brother Zhao?"
"Because the manor has lured away many tenant farmers bound to our monastery's estates, this old monk came specially to negotiate and request that the manor send them back."
Zongjian pressed his palms together. "Yet despite this old monk's courteous persuasion, Steward Zhao flatly refuses. If the two of you are familiar with the Prince of Zhenxi's Manor, perhaps you could urge Steward Zhao to reconsider, lest we damage the harmony between our two houses."
Before Zhao Rong could speak, Zhao Yingjie let out a scornful scoff. "What do you mean, 'lured away'? Our public notices spelled it out plain and clear! Any farming household willing to work the manor's estates receives housing, bedding, food, seeds, and farm implements. They come of their own free will, we collect only fifty percent of the grain each season, and there are no other miscellaneous taxes whatsoever. We fulfill every promise we make. May I ask Master how that amounts to 'luring them away'?"
The monk who had spoken out earlier flared with rage. "Those are our monastery's tenant farmers!"
Zhao Yingjie rolled his eyes at him. "Did they sign indentured servitude contracts with you?"
The monk choked, reduced to blustering, "They have always rented and tilled the monastery's land, and many still owe silver to the monastery!"
Zhao Yingjie chuckled mockingly. "Aren't you great monks bound by compassion? Since when did you take up the business of usury?"
"You—!"
"Amitabha!" Zongjian cut off the monk. "Hongyue, silence!"
Once Hongyue fell quiet, Zongjian turned toward the rear of the hall. "Greetings, Prince of Zhenxi."
Wang Yu stepped out from behind the screen, chuckling. "And here I wondered what auspicious wind had blown an eminent monk of Great Vajra Monastery our way. Turns out your estates have run out of people to till the soil?"
Hexi Circuit lay toward the far northwest, where land was vast and populations sparse—nothing like the bustling prosperity of the Central Plains or Jiangnan.
Daxing Prefecture, where Great Vajra Monastery was located, was considered prime territory. Yet losing a large number of tenant farmers all at once left the monastery unable to begin spring plowing on its lands. That was why they had come to demand their people back before the New Year had even passed.
Zongjian lowered his brows and said impassively, "Those tenant farmers are pious patrons beneath our Buddha's seat. They have listened to the Dharma for years. Their worldly desires merely led them astray for a moment. I ask the Prince of Zhenxi to release them and let them return. This old monk is willing to pray before the Buddha on Your Highness's behalf, for peace in the northwest and longevity of a hundred years."
Wang Yu burst into hearty laughter and asked Zhao Yingjie, "How much rent do those tenant farmers pay when they till Great Vajra Monastery's fields?"
Zhao Yingjie sneered, "Great Vajra Monastery is truly merciful—they take only seventy percent of the grain! But the farmers still have to bear the land tax and the poll tax themselves. By the end of the year, they're left with practically nothing."
"That land belongs to the monastery to begin with! That they can farm the grain and fill their bellies is already the Buddha's boundless grace!" Hongyue argued heatedly. "Moreover, in times of disaster, the monastery distributes porridge and lends silver to preserve their lives so they don't end up displaced. How is that not compassionate?"
Zhao Yingjie was left speechless by the sheer audacity. He looked at Wang Yu. "If that counts as compassion, doesn't that mean every one of us here can become a Buddha?"
Wang Yu chuckled and chided, "If you want to become a Buddha, go right ahead. I still have two blooming, gorgeous consorts—I'm not going to be some monk."
The two bantered and mocked, showing no intention of treating Hongyue's words seriously.
Seeing Hongyue's face flush crimson, on the verge of losing control, Zongjian said in a heavy voice, "Is Your Highness refusing, then? Are you not afraid of a shortfall in the Buddha's grain and the Buddha bringing down retribution?"
Wang Yu's expression darkened instantly. "Old bald donkey, have you grown so used to dealing with commoners that you've forgotten how much you actually weigh? You dare come to the Prince of Zhenxi's Manor to demand people? Did the Tathagata Buddha give you that courage?"
Zongjian snapped his head up, his eyes flashing with a chilling glare so sharp that Wang Yu felt a slight prickling sting in his eyes.
Yet with a single circulation of his internal breath, Wang Yu returned to normal. Pointing an accusing finger, he berated, "I can't be bothered to argue right and wrong with you! Since you hold no deeds of indenture over them, roll right back to where you came from! As for the silver they owe you, bring the loan receipts to collect, and I will pay them off on their behalf!
"As for the people—" Wang Yu let out a sinister, mocking laugh. "Don't even dream of taking a single one back!
"The Buddha bringing down retribution?" Wang Yu glared at Zongjian, his tone dripping with menace. "How many divisions—how many tiger-brave regiments does the Buddha command? Have the Buddha descend himself, and my fifty thousand troops will take him on one-on-one!
"But if anyone dares invoke the Buddha's name to secretly sow chaos in the northwest, I won't hesitate to mobilize troops to crush the rebellion on the court's behalf! The realm is engulfed in flames of war everywhere anyway, and I have discretionary authority in an emergency. So long as I don't march into the capital circuit, I'm sure it can be justified, wouldn't you say?"
Wang Yu flung out crude, domineering curses one after another, completely abandoning the formal protocol of referring to himself as "this prince." His volatile temper was plain for all to see.
A murderous glint flared in Zongjian's eyes, and for a moment he wanted nothing more than to strike Wang Yu dead with a single palm.
In truth, Wang Yu was right. Holding the position of court head of Xumi Court, Zongjian spent his days dealing either with junior disciples of his court or with the managers and stewards of outside manors and shops.
Men who acted superior in the outside world had to tread on eggshells, tremble with fear, and grovel meekly before him. Over the years, Zongjian had indeed grown somewhat arrogant.
What was more, Zhao Zheng was dead, and the new Prince of Zhenxi was merely an idle dandy. Only Zhao Rong was left to prop up the facade. Compared to Great Vajra Monastery, which possessed more Xiantian experts than one could count on two hands, the manor was not even on the same level.
Martial arts experts were accustomed to sectarian feuds and subconsciously overlooked the sheer might of an army. This was largely because armies could not be mobilized lightly; deploying them consumed massive amounts of grain and coin, and once battle was joined, it easily fostered blood feuds to the death.
Even when Zhao Zheng rampaged across the northwest in his prime and clashed repeatedly with Great Vajra Monastery, he had never mobilized the forces under his command. At most, he brought along a few manor guards.
This was because conflicts in the pugilistic world knew when to stop. For great masters or powerful factions in particular, so long as no lives were lost, the dispute amounted only to who gained an advantage and who suffered a loss; there was no existential threat of sect destruction or family extermination.
That was why Hongzhao had dared attempt to detain Wang Yu or Wang Bin back then. In such a scenario, the manor could only swallow the bitter pill and would never launch a grand army over the matter. Otherwise, if Great Vajra Monastery retaliated, it would not end with mere house arrest.
Once a total war erupted, tens of thousands of troops could certainly wipe out the middle and lower tiers of such factions and sever their roots, but they could not touch the pinnacle experts. And once those top experts resorted to targeted assassinations in revenge, one's entire household could easily be slaughtered.
In common parlance: mutual destruction.
Therefore, so long as neither side flipped the table and launched an all-out bloodbath, whoever had the stronger experts held the upper hand. In everyday affairs, Great Vajra Monastery actually held the advantage over the Prince of Zhenxi's Manor.
This time was no different. It was merely a dispute over some tenant farmers; Zongjian never imagined such a trivial matter would drive the manor to deploy an army. At most, it would remain a squabble between martial factions.
And in a pugilistic clash, stripped of Zhao Zheng, a Xiantian Grandmaster, how could the Prince of Zhenxi's Manor ever match Great Vajra Monastery?
Furthermore, he believed reason stood on his side; the Prince of Zhenxi's Manor truly had lured away Great Vajra Monastery's tenant farmers.
Thus, Zongjian had not even consulted his abbot before leading several disciples from Xumi Court to demand the people back. Yet not only had he failed to overcome Zhao Rong, but he had also been cursed out by Wang Yu!
Zongjian seethed with fury. When had anyone ever spoken to him with such insolence, let alone pointed a finger in his face and berated him like a dog?
Yet he was, after all, an expert who had reached the Xiantian realm; he was by no means a fool.
Wang Yu's finger-pointing tirade, foul as it was, had jolted him awake.
Wang Yu was not Zhao Zheng. This was an infamous dandy whose reputation had spread far and wide in the capital—eccentric, arrogant, and domineering, fearing nothing under the heavens while relying on Zhao Zheng's backing.
Now, although Zhao Zheng was gone, Wang Yu had returned to the Prince of Zhenxi's Manor and commanded fifty thousand seasoned troops.
If Wang Yu truly went mad and unleashed fifty thousand troops to lay waste to the land, Great Vajra Monastery genuinely could not withstand it!
As to whether he would lose his mind over such a minor matter, Zongjian was genuinely unsure.
If Wang Yu truly mobilized fifty thousand troops to drag Great Vajra Monastery down in mutual ruin, Zongjian could never bear the responsibility.
Even if fifty thousand troops could do nothing against Great Vajra Monastery's top experts, and even if those experts could subsequently send Wang Yu's entire family to meet the Buddha, the lands and assets under Great Vajra Monastery's rule would inevitably be combed through and devastated again and again by fifty thousand troops.
If that happened, the middle and lower echelons of Great Vajra Monastery would suffer devastating losses, leaving only a handful of experts to rebuild from scratch. It was not out of the question that Great Vajra Monastery might tumble from its status among the two great Buddhist sects. It simply was not worth it.
Yet who asked Great Vajra Monastery and the Prince of Zhenxi's Manor to be neighbors? Being so close had this exact drawback.
If they weren't neighbors, Zongjian could have slapped Wang Yu to death with a single strike. Then again, if they weren't neighbors, they likely would never have had such a conflict to begin with.
Zongjian glared at Wang Yu, his mustache bristling as he remained silent.
Curse it all! Both sides were supposed to be men with everything to lose, yet Wang Yu's reckless temperament turned him into a barefoot madman with nothing to fear!
Wang Yu glared right back at Zongjian, raising his brows in blatant provocation. "I hear Great Vajra Monastery has nearly a thousand monks. As luck would have it, I have thirty thousand troops stationed right behind me. Why don't we have a showdown? Whoever wins gets to take those tenant farmers!"
An all-out war between a regional prince and a great sect over a handful of tenant farmers?
The corner of Zongjian's mouth twitched. He had no intention of playing along with this lunatic. Pressing his palms together in a brief salute toward Wang Yu and the others, he spun on his heel and strode away without leaving behind a single parting threat.
Chapter 92