"You bald thief, how dare you speak so glibly to deceive the Prince's Heir! This general comes by order of the Prince himself to exterminate you rebels! Dare you claim you do not recognize this man?"
Zhou Mingguang held aloft the Prince's handwritten edict given to him by Qin Sang, then gave a fierce wave of his hand. His orderly retrieved a cured severed head from a bundle and tossed it over.
Abbot Yuanzhen's face drained of color as he scrambled to catch the head, his hands trembling violently.
Behind him, the monks fell to their knees en masse, weeping bitterly—some crying out for their master, others for their grandmaster.
Zhou Mingguang turned a blind eye and unfurled a silk ordination certificate.
"Xuanji Temple, Head of the Arhat Hall, Dharma name Yuanjue! Hmph! Holding the lofty position of Head, he nevertheless willingly served as a lackey to the false emperor and nearly ruined the Prince's grand designs, for which he was executed on the spot! Both witness and material evidence are present, proof undeniable! What else do you bald donkeys have to say?"
"Nonsense!"
A burly monk glared with bloodshot eyes, teeth clenched in fury. "Master was a Xiantian master! A band of rebels like you could never be a match for him! What sinister scheme did you use to murder my master?!"
Hearing the monk's words, Zhou Mingguang shot an impassive glance toward Qin Sang.
"Rebels?"
Zhou Mingguang nearly laughed out loud. He said sinisterly, "It seems the monk Yuanjue is by no means the only running dog of the false emperor in Xuanji Temple! All men, hear my command! Enter the temple and search it! Anyone who resists is to be killed without mercy!"
In an instant, gongs and drums sounded together, and armor clattered loudly.
The monks of Xuanji Temple formed battle formations, seemingly prepared to resist to the bitter end.
The atmosphere abruptly froze, chillingly tense.
At that moment, Abbot Yuanzhen suddenly closed his eyes, let out a long sigh toward the heavens, and solemnly handed the severed head to a monk beside him.
"Amitābha."
Abbot Yuanzhen took a step forward. "General Zhou, Junior Brother Yuanjue left the Great Sui to wander the world and had not returned for ten years. He must have only just arrived back, unaware of the truth, and was momentarily confused and deceived by the false emperor. The monks of Xuanji Temple would never serve as lackeys to the false emperor. I beg General Zhou to see reason."
"Abbot!"
Seeing that Abbot Yuanzhen was actually intending to accept blame and submit to punishment, the monks of Xuanji Temple were utterly shocked.
Qin Sang, however, was gratified by Abbot Yuanzhen's good sense. It was best if they did not have to resort to open warfare.
Zhou Mingguang's tone softened slightly. "The Abbot is a man of the cloth, highly respected, and surely would not utter falsehoods. However, Xuanji Temple has many monks, and the good and bad are inevitably mixed. If lackeys of the false emperor were hiding among them and caused trouble, implicating the temple, wouldn't that be a shame? The Abbot need not worry. This general will strictly restrain his soldiers, arresting only the false emperor's lackeys and never slaying the innocent."
***
The Scripture Depository.
Qin Sang looked up at the seven-story pagoda before him. He had long admired places like this; legends told that all supreme martial arts stemmed from Shaolin, and all Shaolin arts resided within the Scripture Depository. It was a holy land in the heart of anyone who had ever read wuxia novels.
However, Qin Sang knew that Xuanji Temple's Scripture Depository was merely a decoy. There were no superior martial arts inside, only volumes of Buddhist scriptures.
The true treasury lay elsewhere.
Qin Sang turned his head to look in the distance at Abbot Yuanzhen, who sat on the ground, silently chanting scriptures.
All the monks of Xuanji Temple had been restrained by Abbot Yuanzhen within the Grand Hall, surrounded by the crossbowmen.
And even as Abbot Yuanzhen watched with his own eyes as the soldiers emptied the temple's treasury, chest after chest of gold, silver, and jewels carried down the mountain in an endless stream, he remained entirely devoid of grief or joy. What tremendous composure.
Zhou Mingguang strode over, scanned the area, and pointed toward an inconspicuous trail behind the Scripture Depository, barking loudly, "There is another path here! Men, take a squad down there and search it thoroughly! If a single rebel slips by, off with your heads!"
Abbot Yuanzhen's expression shifted slightly. In a flash, he blocked the way. "General Zhou, you must not! Ahead lies the seclusion grounds where this temple's Patriarchs cultivate in peace. Under no circumstances must they be disturbed!"
Zhou Mingguang snorted coldly. "Patriarchs, my foot! Until we search thoroughly, who knows who is really in there? For the Abbot to be so uneasy, could it be the people inside cannot face the light of day?"
"You!"
Blue veins bulged across Abbot Yuanzhen's hand as he gripped his prayer beads, a trickle of crushed wood dust spilling from between his fingers.
"Good! Good! Good! Then please, General Zhou, search thoroughly and clear this temple of suspicion! However, this old monk has one request: Patriarchs of our temple truly are meditating in seclusion within the cliffside. I ask the General for a little leeway to allow this old monk to invite the Patriarchs out first, lest their cultivation be disrupted, leading to grave disaster."
Zhou Mingguang secretly breathed a sigh of relief. He had nearly pushed Abbot Yuanzhen into a violent rage just now, and his back had almost been drenched in cold sweat. He waved his hand repeatedly. "The Abbot may do as he pleases."
With Abbot Yuanzhen in the lead and Zhou Mingguang following with his soldiers, they soon rounded a stone forest and came upon a cliff face.
Across the cliffside were countless rock carvings, inscribed by past dignitaries, eminent monks, renowned martial masters, and literary giants. At the foot of the mountain, a flight of stone steps led upward to a stone walkway traversing the cliff, lined with magnificent Buddhist sculptures.
The cliff faced east and south; the eastern face, aligning with the rising sun to reflect Buddhist ideals, was the seclusion ground for Xuanji Temple's Patriarchs.
Zhou Mingguang waited at the foot of the steps with his soldiers as the old monk climbed up to invite the Patriarchs down one by one. Most were emaciated old monks; among them were top martial masters as well as eminent monks who knew no martial arts at all.
Abbot Yuanzhen placated each one in turn with great effort, while Zhou Mingguang had his soldiers make a show of inspecting the area, silently counting the time in his head.
According to their agreement, he had to stall for at least fifteen minutes for Qin Sang.
By this time, Qin Sang had changed into plain clothes and quietly climbed to the top of the cliff. Lying prone at the summit, he kept watch until he finally saw the Xuanji Temple Xiantian Patriarch being escorted down, whereupon he immediately crept down the cliff face without a sound.
He had originally prepared a rope, but the rugged carvings on the cliff face allowed him to climb with ease using his lightness skill, rendering the rope unnecessary.
At the end of the walkway was a stone staircase descending further. Qin Sang landed lightly on the path, his steps soundless, and walked down the steps.
The stairs descended deep into the mountain, intensely quiet.
On both sides were several caves where Xuanji Temple's Patriarchs had been in seclusion, now escorted away.
Had Zhou Mingguang not made a scene and forced them out, Qin Sang would never have been able to sneak in undetected.
Finally reaching the bottom of the steps, he saw an inconspicuous, narrow fissure in the corner, leading into deep gloom.
The fissure was narrow at the mouth and wider within, riddled with dangerous traps. But Qin Sang was already aware of them all; stepping carefully, he evaded every mechanism. The fissure branched into several paths—the repositories where Xuanji Temple kept its rarest treasures.
Qin Sang headed straight for the place where the bell was kept. The other branches held priceless treasures as well, but in Qin Sang's eyes, they were no different from dust, and time did not permit lingering anyway.
The modest grotto had been chiseled into a square chamber, its ceiling set with a night-luminescent pearl radiating brilliant light.
In the center of the grotto stood a stone pedestal upon which rested a purple bell, a jade slip, and a talisman paper, all protected beneath a colored glass cover.
On the pedestal lay the final trap. Qin Sang located the poison arrows, disabled the mechanism, and lifted the glass cover.
Time was pressing. Suppressing the excitement surging in his chest, Qin Sang swiftly gathered the three items and silently retreated from the grotto.
Chapter 37