Chun Kong

A voided round was the very last thing a bookmaker wanted to see. Sun Yixie had spent the better part of the day busting his neck to run the betting pool for that duel on the arena, only to have the whole thing wrecked by an unidentified masked man in black who came charging out of nowhere. Naturally, he was in a foul mood. Yet as irritated as he was, there was nothing he could do about it. The man in black had vanished without a trace, and Sun had no prior acquaintance with Zheng Mukai or Ge Shi. Even if he went to question the parties involved, they were hardly going to tell him the whole story, so Brother Sun had no choice but to let the matter drop. It was not until later, after attending the Youth Heroes Assembly and returning to Xuzhou, that Sun Yixie finally got to the bottom of the whole affair directly through Miss Chu Xue. But that is a story for another time, which we shall pass over for now. Returning to Sun Yixie and Huang Donglai's journey... Because they had stayed to watch the spectacle, they spent an extra day in Xuzhou, setting off once more the following morning. All told, more than twenty days had passed since they departed Hangzhou. The encounters they had met along the way gave them an increasingly vivid sense of walking the jianghu. Today, they finally drew near Luoyang. The Central Plains were dotted with famous mountains. Following the official road northwest, one peak they inevitably had to pass was Mount Song. At Mount Song, there were two great sects: one was the Songshan Sect, and the other was Shaolin. In the martial world of this universe, Shaolin had long ceased to be the paramount pillar of the martial arts, yet it still commanded an exalted status as one of the oldest and most formidable sects. As for the Songshan Sect, it was likewise an upright, prestigious faction, though its overall strength fell somewhat short of Shaolin's. The two sects were close neighbors geographically, yet there was no bad blood or rivalry between them. After all, their martial arts and sect rules were entirely different, which meant they catered to different "markets." In this world, not just anyone was willing to become a monk simply to learn martial arts. Furthermore, Shaolin's criteria for recruiting lay disciples were quite stringent. Even if you were accepted, the highest martial arts a lay disciple could learn were only those taught in the Bodhidharma Hall; the supreme Chan martial arts housed in the Sutra Pavilion, which had to be cultivated alongside Buddhist dharma, were practically beyond reach. The Songshan Sect had far fewer restrictions. There was no need to take the tonsure, nor were they terribly picky about applicants. So long as you possessed aptitude, were willing to work hard, and made no grave mistakes, you could join and chase your dream of becoming sect leader. Even if you never made a name for yourself in the end, you could leave the sect and walk the jianghu on your own... Oh, of course, if you had learned the sect's high-tier arts, you had to have those techniques crippled before departing; but if you hadn't learned them, it didn't matter in the least, and no one would stop you from walking away. When Sun Yixie and Huang Donglai arrived at the small town nestled at the foot of Mount Song, they felt the profound influence and deep roots the two sects held in the region. Many of the fields surrounding the town were the property of the Shaolin Monastery and the Songshan Sect. The two sects also held shares in several local inns, which saw an endless stream of youths boarding year-round in hopes of joining one of the factions. The town's blacksmiths, carpenters, fabric shops, tailor shops, and various other trades all depended on orders for weapons and garments placed by these two giants. In short, most of the town's trades and crafts were tied to the two sects in one way or another, having developed something of a symbiotic economy. This was the typical operating model for prominent sects in this Da Ming universe. Whether in the wuxia novels or films of our childhood, certain mundane details were usually overlooked. For instance: Where on earth did those gallant heroes who threw money around like dirt actually get their funds? If the members of martial families did nothing all day but practice martial arts or engage in infighting, how did they sustain their lavish lifestyles of fine silks and gourmet meals? Did prestigious sects charge application fees? For a sect of more than five hundred people, how much food and water was consumed each day? How many cooks had to be employed? How much manpower and logistical resources were required to transport their provisions and dispose of their kitchen waste? How were personal hygiene issues like bathing resolved? What about medical facilities? A mountain of realistic questions like these ought to have reasonable explanations. When applied to evil sects, such details could easily be brushed off with "plunder and pillage cover everything." But for upright, prestigious sects... without properties, stable income, and professional administrative staff, keeping things running would be utterly impossible. Never mind five hundred people—suppose someone handed you just fifty and made you their sect leader. The moment you opened your eyes every morning, you'd have to attend to the food, clothing, shelter, and transportation of every single one of those rascals. Are you sure you'd still have time to teach anyone martial arts? Hence, rather than viewing the moderately sized sects of Da Ming as martial factions, it was more fitting to see them as corporate enterprises. Beside the chairman of the board—the sect leader—not a single department could be spared, whether finance, personnel, or logistics. Sun Yixie and Huang Donglai did not yet understand these realities very well. It would only be later, once they founded their own organization, that they discovered just how much of a headache management and operations truly were. Fortunately, at this stage they were merely two minor gallants. Though devoid of fame, they were equally free of responsibility, living through the golden days of roaming the jianghu without a care in the world. The two wandered around the town at the foot of Mount Song for half a day, their ears filled with endless anecdotes and rumors concerning the Shaolin Monastery and the Songshan Sect, though the truth of such tales was difficult to judge. They had thought of climbing the mountain to take a look, but that proved impossible. These were martial sects, not tourist attractions. If you wanted to pay a visit, you needed a valid pretext. You couldn't simply say, "I just wanted to drop by for a tour." If that worked, wouldn't spies from evil sects be coming and going as they pleased? If Sun and Huang had been renowned throughout the martial world, that would have been another matter. You could report your name, state that you had long admired the sect leader or abbot and wished to pay your respects, and if they happened to have time and recognized your moniker, they might grant you an audience, share a cup of tea, and make your acquaintance. Alas... neither of them possessed such standing. Huang Donglai's title as young master of the Huang Clan might have carried a shred of weight, but Sun Yixie was the sort who wouldn't be allowed past the gate no matter what he said. And so, they merely spent the night there and resumed their journey the following morning. To their surprise, just as they slowly ambled on horseback to the edge of the town—before they had even stepped onto the official road—a voice called out to them from behind. "Amitābha... Benefactors, please hold a moment." The voice came from behind Sun and Huang, sounding somewhat youthful. They pulled on the reins, brought their horses to a halt, and turned to look. There stood a young monk of sixteen or seventeen, dressed in monastic robes, ordination scars visible on his head. With refined features, fair skin, and red lips, he held his palms together in prayer, bowing respectfully toward them. "Little Master, what can we do for you?" Seeing a monk call out to them, Sun Yixie's immediate thought was that the young man was begging for alms. He asked casually, already prepared to toss a few copper coins to send him on his way. Yet the young monk's response took him by surprise. "This poor monk is Chun Kong, a disciple of the 'Chun' generation of Shaolin. Forgive my presumption, but may I ask... are the two of you bound for Luoyang to attend the Youth Heroes Assembly?" Hearing this, the two riders exchanged glances, reading each other's eyes before Huang Donglai spoke up. "May I ask... Master Chun Kong, what makes you think so?" He answered with a question, countering with a probe of his own. Chun Kong, however, was candid and forthright. "Amitābha... First, the direction you are taking out of town leads to the northwestern official road. Unless you turn onto a side trail along the way, that road leads only to Luoyang. Second, I see that you two appear to be of similar age to myself, both possess internal force, and this benefactor carries an exotic weapon... Hence, this poor monk ventured a guess that you might be rushing to take part in the Youth Heroes Assembly before the Mid-Autumn Festival." Indeed, they were already quite close to Luoyang, and given their outward traits, deducing as much was hardly difficult. "So that's it." Huang Donglai nodded. With things laid out so plainly, there was no need to beat around the bush. "You've guessed correctly. I am Huang Donglai, and this is my brother Sun Yixie. We are indeed heading to the Youth Heroes Assembly. Might I ask what guidance Master Chun Kong has for us?" "Amitābha... Far be it from me to offer guidance," Chun Kong replied with humble sincerity. "I stopped the two of you only because my master instructed me to attend the gathering in Luoyang as well. Walking past just now, I noticed that Benefactor Huang and Benefactor Sun appeared bound for Luoyang, which prompted me to take the liberty of inquiring." He paused and bowed once more. "In truth, this poor monk has an audacious request... If it is no inconvenience, might I travel alongside you?"