Iron Monk

The sudden human voice gave both of them a fright. Sun Yixie immediately raised his trident across his chest, bracing himself to skewer whoever it was. Huang Donglai snapped out of his relaxed state into full vigilance, his hand instinctively brushing against the hidden weapons tucked inside his sleeve. "What's this?" Seeing their reaction, the voice in the dark let out a cold chuckle. "Heh... Not only do you barge in uninvited, but you want to trade blows with this old monk?" With those words, the situation shifted completely. Judging by his phrasing, the speaker was a Buddhist monk. Taking in their surroundings, Sun and Huang could not help but wonder: could there actually be a monk still residing in this ruined temple? Just as they hesitated, a soft striking sound echoed as a spark flared in the depths of the prayer hall. Looking closely, there was indeed an old monk standing there, holding a freshly struck fire striker. His clean-shaven head stood out brilliantly in the flickering flame. "Are both of you mutes?" the old monk grunted as he shuffled a few steps to the side, casually lighting several candles set beside the Buddhist altar. The prayer hall brightened considerably. Only then did Sun Yixie and Huang Donglai get a clear look at him. The monk before them appeared to be in his early sixties, his beard and hair grizzled. He wore a ragged, bluish-gray monastic robe, a string of what looked like iron prayer beads hung around his neck, and a sizable cloth bundle rested by his feet. "Er... Master," Huang Donglai began. Being the more cultured of the two, the task of negotiating naturally fell to him. "My brother and I were passing through when the downpour caught us, so we came in to seek shelter..." He paused, glancing around in the candlelight, then cupped his fist in his palm. "We assumed this was an abandoned ruin and had no idea someone was here. Please forgive our intrusion." "Right, exactly," Sun Yixie said, lowering his trident and chiming in. "Please forgive us." In most circumstances, the two of them were reasonable enough. Neither thought there was any glory in throwing their weight around in front of an elderly monk; the man was old and a person of the cloth, so showing some courtesy was only right. Having lit the candles, the monk returned to his spot, sat cross-legged on a prayer mat, and sized them up before nodding. "Mm... At least you have some manners. Not bad." With that, he seemed to recall something and let out a sigh. "Ah, nowadays, it's rare for young people to show even this much home upbringing." Though they had only exchanged a handful of words, Sun and Huang could already sense it—this old monk had quite a sharp tongue. Even when he paid someone a compliment, the words came out barbed. "Why are you standing there like statues? Come over and sit," the old monk called out, seeing them at a loss. Reaching behind him, he pulled two worn prayer mats from beneath the incense table. Sun Yixie did not catch anything unusual about the gesture, but Huang Donglai, who was far more attuned to the flow of internal force, immediately saw the trick: the old monk had used internal energy to draw the two mats into his palm before actually gripping them. Though the display seemed unremarkable on the surface, anyone in the know understood that this was far more terrifying than shattering a boulder yards away with a single punch. According to the common knowledge of martial artists in this world, unless one practiced some miraculous, earth-shattering art, achieving the external projection of internal energy typically required over a decade of dedication. To achieve condensing qi into form—where the emitted internal energy persisted like a solid entity and could be manipulated at will—required at least twenty years. And to achieve assimilating form with qi—where projected energy caused no mindless destruction, but could instead exert subtle, precise physical influence on its surroundings at the user's whim—was the pinnacle realm where internal force became shapeless, formless, soundless, and colorless. This was a boundary many martial artists spent an entire lifetime failing to reach. Most sect leaders could barely touch its threshold. Once that line was crossed, one became an ultra-first-rate master, capable of decisively dominating ordinary first-rate experts in single combat. Of course, there existed an even higher tier: the pinnacle masters. Yet across the entire martial world, only a handful of such figures were known to exist, and information on them was essentially nonexistent, for no one had ever pushed them hard enough to test the full extent of their might. Huang Donglai realized in an instant that the old monk before him was at the very least an ultra-first-rate master. He secretly rejoiced: *Thank goodness we didn't pick a fight just now. Even if he didn't kill us, merely 'teaching us a lesson' would have been more than we could stomach.* "Hm?" A single breath later, the old monk's expression shifted, and he turned toward Huang Donglai, who had just sat down. "Heh. You've got sharp eyes, boy." Huang Donglai was stunned. *Can this old man read minds? How did he know I saw through his strength?* "What? Don't understand?" The old monk chuckled. "Your pulse and breathing went entirely erratic—didn't you notice?" Realization dawned on Huang Donglai, accompanied by a secret shudder. *He can even pick up on that? Wouldn't he know the second I let out a fart?* "What are you two talking about?" Sun Yixie could not read the monk, but seeing his brother's expression told him something was amiss, and he grew wary once again. "Brother Sun," Huang Donglai whispered, having deduced the monk's identity, "this senior is most likely..." "Indeed," the old monk interrupted, knowing Huang Donglai had figured it out. "This old monk is none other than Iron Monk Yihuai." "Huh?" That was Sun Yixie's immediate reaction upon hearing the name. "What are you 'huh'-ing about?" Huang Donglai snapped. "Haven't you heard of the famous Golden Beggar, Silver Daoist, Bronze Scholar, and Iron Monk of the jianghu?" "Uh..." Sun Yixie hesitated. "I really haven't." "Damn it!" Huang Donglai dropped all formality, seeing no need to mince words with Brother Sun. "Then let me tell you right now: the man right in front of us is Master Yihuai, known among those four great experts as the Iron Monk!" "Oh!" Sun Yixie finally caught on. "A moniker of Iron Monk and a Buddhist name of Yihuai, is that it? Whew... I thought someone had the compound surname 'Iron-Monk' and was named Yihuai." Turning toward Yihuai, he added, "Long admired! My utmost respect!" Faced with someone thick-skinned enough to claim he had never heard of him one moment, only to spout "long admired" the next, Yihuai had no idea how to respond. He could only manage an awkward chuckle, feeling that the imposing grandeur of a master revealing his name had been entirely ruined. "Senior, my brother is green to the jianghu. If his words gave offense, please don't hold it against him," Huang Donglai hastily interjected, trying to smooth things over. Yihuai had no intention of squabbling with juniors. He waved a hand dismissively. "No matter. Even without you saying so, this old monk could tell at a glance that you two lack experience in the jianghu." Pausing briefly, he continued, "Had you been seasoned wanderers, you would have thoroughly checked the hall before letting your guard down to take shelter." This was genuine jianghu wisdom being imparted, and both Sun and Huang took it to heart. "Take me, for instance," Yihuai added. "When I arrived, I searched every corner of this temple, front and back—not just to see if anyone was lying in ambush, but also to watch for traps, venomous creatures, and the like. Furthermore, when spending the night alone in unfamiliar territory, one must never sleep too deeply, nor light a flame... These are fundamental tricks of the trade you ought to know." "Hold on a second!" Sun Yixie caught on to something and cut in. "Master, so you aren't from this temple either? You're just a traveler passing through?" "I am. What of it?" Yihuai countered. "Then when we walked in, why did you make it sound like we were barging onto your property?" Sun Yixie knew the man's title, but having no grasp of the monk's terrifying skill, he dared to ask with brazen confidence. "Nonsense! In an empty temple, whoever arrives first is naturally the host, and those who follow are guests. When guests arrive, shouldn't they greet the host?" Yihuai retorted, showing none of the decorum expected of an eminent monk and sounding thoroughly rough-edged instead. "Hey!" Sun Yixie opened his mouth to argue further. Before he could, Huang Donglai lunged forward, clapping a hand over Sun's mouth. "Shut your damn mouth! What is there to argue about?!" Fully aware of the monk's terrifying prowess, Huang Donglai was secretly hoping to flatter the old man and squeeze out some pointers or benefits. How could he let Sun Yixie ruin it all with his reckless mouth? "Pfft—" Sun Yixie shoved Huang Donglai's hand away. "Fine, fine, I won't say another word! What are you getting so worked up about? Did you even wash your hands after taking a piss before shoving them over my mouth?" "I've been soaked in the rain for hours, how much cleaner do you want them to be?" Huang Donglai snapped back in irritation. "Say another word and see if I don't smear a fistful of sleeping powder across your face!" "Do it if you've got the guts! You think I'm scared you'll deflower me?" Sun Yixie flared up again. Watching the two bicker, Master Yihuai's thoughts drifted into utter disarray... He began to suspect his initial impression of them having good manners was somewhat wide of the mark. *** Sun and Huang did not carry on the squabble for long; after all, a full day of travel had left them exhausted. The two introduced themselves to Yihuai and explained their destination. As they chatted, they brought out their dry provisions to eat, sharing a portion with the monk. In truth, Yihuai had not eaten a bite all day before meeting them, having only had water. Being able to enjoy a decent meal now filled him with gratitude. Yet he was the sort whose heart was kind while his mouth was acerbic; even after eating someone's food, no pleasant words would leave his lips. Neither Sun Yixie nor Huang Donglai took offense. When they finished eating, they shared stories of their encounters along the road with the old monk. Eventually, overcome by sheer weariness, each found a patch of dry straw, rested his head on a prayer mat, and fell fast asleep. Once their breathing turned deep and steady, Yihuai pondered the matter carefully. These two lads were quite intriguing, and judging by their conduct along the way, they genuinely possessed the spirit of righteous chivalry. *Crossing paths here was meant to be,* Yihuai thought, *and they showed me the kindness of sharing their meal. Since they are headed for the Youth Heroes Assembly, there is no harm in secretly lending them a hand.* With that resolve, he reached over and untied his cloth bundle...