When Qin Zheng finished speaking, he drew the court document from his robes and displayed it before everyone.
In an instant the Shaolin Temple boiled with voices. The jianghu folk who had come to watch the excitement gathered in small groups and began to talk in low voices.
Qin Zheng's power had already extended its control as far as the Funiu Mountains. This grant from the court now assigned him the whole stretch of the Xiong'er Mountains, the Waifang Mountains, and Mount Song as well.
The court of the Great Song had always treated monks generously, exempting them for life from labor service, military service, and corvée. The Shaolin Temple had further been excused from the temple land tax and the poll tax; almost the only levies it still had to pay were commercial taxes on pawnbroking, moneylending, and the like.
Over many years, Shaolin's fields had grown to more than fourteen thousand mu. Now every bit of them belonged to Qin Zheng, and that was on top of the power he already held...
To the court this was only a trifling sum, but in the jianghu, no sect had ever possessed wealth in such vast quantity!
Xuan Nan and the other monks wore grim faces as they carefully tested whether the document was genuine. Once they found that it was real, every one of them sighed and groaned, looking pained over the money.
Their abbot had already fled, and now they had lost the temple's lands as well. Misfortunes truly never came alone!
Qin Zheng carried the court document over to Xuan Nan and said with a kindly face, "I can handle transferring the lands myself. I won't trouble the eminent monks of your honored temple. Just pass word to the masters who collect the rents, so there is no misunderstanding when the rents come due. It would look bad for both our houses."
Xuan Nan drew a deep breath. He wanted to fight him, yet he feared he could not win, so he forced down the anger in his heart, pressed his palms together, and said, "Amitabha. This poor monk will pass the word to the disciples in the temple."
Xuanku looked at him with a complicated expression. "Senior Brother, you were in such a hurry to call me out of seclusion. Was it just so I could see this?"
Xuan Nan gave a bitter smile. "You ought to be able to see the state of the temple for yourself. From this day on, whether Shaolin can still be kept going depends on the two of us."
In the past, Xuanci had been in charge of the accounts, managing the food, clothing, and daily needs of the more than two thousand monks in the temple. Now Xuanci was gone, and the lands were lost as well. They would probably never be able to maintain the present number of disciples...
Xuanku intoned a Buddha's name, and a solemn, Buddha-like dignity came over his face. "Amitabha. Though our Shaolin is the ancestral seat of the Chan school, the northern and southern Chan schools left us behind many years ago. This is precisely the time to break and then stand anew, and to press forward with fierce courage. Senior Brother, how can you be so dispirited?"
Xuan Nan came abruptly to himself and said, full of shame, "Thank you for waking me to it, Junior Brother. This is truly no time to sink into gloom.
"Now that we have lost the lands, our commercial affairs are bound to suffer badly as well. In no more than a few days, even the daily food and drink of the two thousand disciples in the temple will become a serious problem. Do you have some wise counsel, Junior Brother?"
Xuanku smiled with confidence. "This is simple. We have nothing to eat or drink, so we can go alms-seeking along the streets!"
The expression on Xuan Nan's face froze at once.
Alms-seeking along the streets? Go and scramble with the Beggar Gang's disciples for something to eat?
To ask a martial-arts fanatic about a thing like this—I must have been out of my mind!
Caught between laughter and tears, he glared at Xuanku, then flicked his sleeve and hurried off to the rear courtyard to take stock of what they still had.
Xuanku looked utterly baffled. "Why did he get angry all of a sudden? Did I say something wrong?"
Watching his senior brother's back disappear, he shook his head slightly, then walked toward Qiao Feng. "Feng'er, your master has something to ask of you. When it comes to alms-seeking, you ought to be quite experienced, no?"
Qiao Feng stared dumbstruck at the master who had taught him. "..."
I truly don't know this business!
And even if I did, I couldn't teach it to you in front of all the heroes under heaven, could I?
This is the Beggar Gang's core secret!
Elsewhere, Xuanci chased Murong Bo at a dead run. He had no idea how long he had been chasing when Murong Bo, seeing that he still could not shake him off, finally slowed and stopped.
Xuanci halted before him, gasping for breath, and said with a sharp gaze, "Brother Murong, we have not met in thirty years. Your internal energy has grown ever deeper."
"Likewise, likewise. Master Xuanci, your martial arts have advanced considerably as well. In the past, you could not have chased me for so long."
The two looked at each other for a moment. Xuanci asked, brows tightly knit, "Was it you who killed Ma Dayuan after all? And that letter in Qin Zheng's hands—you forged it too, didn't you?
"You went to such pains to slander this poor monk as a descendant of the Murong family. What exactly are you after?"
The questions left Murong Bo stifled and aggrieved. He said through gritted teeth, "There are only the two of us here, and you still mean to put on an act?
"I would like to ask you something as well. Using me to cut down the experts of the Central Plains martial world was one thing. Why did you also have to invent lies about my origins?"
Seeing that neither would admit his own scheme, their gazes struck together, nearly throwing off sparks.
A wave of hot air blew past. A drop of sweat ran into Xuanci's eye, and in the instant he blinked, Murong Bo raised a hand and struck with the Canhe Finger toward Xuanci's chest!
There was a soft hiss. Xuanci sensed the sound of air being split and shifted his body slightly aside, and Murong Bo's storm of attacks was already upon him.
Murong Bo brought out Shaolin's supreme art, the Prajna Palm. The palm forms stacked layer upon layer, and the wind of the palms was dense and deep. Once a palm went out, the force behind it came linked in succession; the palm force was now empty, now solid, hardness and softness in balance.
Xuanci answered with the Prajna Palm as well. With one move, Emptiness to the End—mastered by only a handful from ancient times to the present—he instantly dissolved Murong Bo's assault. Then his palm art turned from hard to soft, and he struck a palm toward Murong Bo's chest. The force looked soft and yielding, yet the power behind it was endless.
"Bang!"
After twenty-some moves, the two met palm to palm in a hard clash. In that instant true qi surged, and within three zhang all around, sand flew and stones leapt. Both men were driven back at the same time by the other's palm force.
Murong Bo was, in the end, a notch more skilled. Taking advantage of Xuanci's unsteady breath, he borrowed the force to spin about, then used his lightness skill and raced off into the distance.
Xuanci anxiously chased a few steps, then spat a mouthful of blood. Watching Murong Bo's retreating back, he could only gaze after him in helpless frustration.
After he had regulated his breathing where he stood, he thought long and hard. Going back to Shaolin now would only bring trouble upon the temple. Then a flash of inspiration struck him, and he set off toward the south.
He could not return to Shaolin, but there was still a Southern Shaolin in Fujian. Master Huangmei there ought to be able to take him in.
With that man's help, it would also be easier to inquire after Murong Bo's whereabouts. Otherwise, finding Murong Bo on his own would be no different from searching for a needle in the sea.
As the two of them departed one after the other, Qin Zheng was already sitting bold and wide-legged in the Shaolin Temple's accounts office, taking over the accounts of the temple lands.
An ugly monk, drenched in sweat, was hauling the account ledgers and did not dare slack in the slightest. Panting, he set the last chest down before Qin Zheng.
"Benefactor, the accounts for all the temple lands are here."
Qin Zheng looked over this ugly monk, whose brows and eyes somewhat resembled Xuanci's, and asked, "Why did only you come to move the chests? Where are the others?"
The ugly monk pressed his palms together and said, "My senior brothers are discussing important matters. This humble monk was the only one free, so they had me come."
Qin Zheng shook his head and clicked his tongue twice. "What important matters could they have? They simply saw that you were easy to push around. If I have not guessed wrong, you should be called Xuzhu, yes?"
Xuzhu started in surprise. "Benefactor, how did you know?"
Chapter 32