Fat Rat: As long as you can bluff, there’s no obstacle you can’t overcome.
Mo Li remained unmoved.
He quietly watched the sand rat, his gaze full of undeniable authority.
The sand rat’s ears twitched; this was different from the usual doctor!
Mo Li used a “true transmission” skill he learned from Elder Qin, a look that intimidated patients into obediently drinking their medicine.
It worked every time, regardless of the opponent’s identity, none dared protest under such a gaze.
“…”
The cave was exceptionally quiet.
The sand rat quietly retracted its paw, looking down at the crimson robe spread beneath it.
Mo Li suddenly felt a pang of compassion, his previously firm resolve wavered when he saw the fat rat’s fur drooping in dejection, its round body shrinking slightly.
Struggling to maintain a serious expression, Mo Li thought that when facing Meng Qi, his will and principles always seemed to falter. He mustn’t let the teacher know, or else Elder Qin would be heartbroken, feeling that the disciple he raised for over ten years had been led astray.
Guiltily imagining Qin Lu’s reaction, Mo Li raised his hand to cover up, ready to stroke the fur of the fat rat.
“If Brother Meng really doesn’t want to…”
His voice was cut off, and his outstretched hand was firmly “pushed” back.
It wasn’t that the fat rat had immense strength, but Meng Qi had transformed back.
The suddenly increased size made the cave space much smaller.
Mo Li quickly withdrew his hand.
Although there was no problem touching him, a naked person suddenly appearing in front of him with his hand still on the other’s shoulder was inappropriate.
Mo Li immediately averted his gaze, staring at the corner of the cave to steady himself, then spoke:
“This robe won’t do, shall we think of another way?”
The response was a rustling sound.
Mo Li puzzledly turned his head, only to see Meng Qi calmly draping the robe over himself, currently adjusting the cuffs.
Uneven patches of pink and red covered the robe. Upon close inspection, the shapes and changes of these color blocks were quite random, and paired with someone’s face—forget it, only the face was bearable; the robe was unbearably ugly.
Truly ugly clothes that no amount of extraordinary elegance could salvage.
Mo Li awkwardly thought that the robe looked passable when piled up, though the colors were somewhat bothersome. How did it become so ugly when worn?
It felt like a finely dressed young master being drenched by a downpour for three days and nights, turning a phoenix into a plucked chicken.
Mo Li scrutinized a few more times and finally identified the problem.
It was Meng Qi’s face!
On a person with an average appearance, this robe, while ugly, would seem more comical, the patches of pink and red truly laughable.
However, on Meng Qi, the robe’s flaws were magnified infinitely.
The more extraordinary Meng Qi’s appearance and demeanor, the more intolerably ugly the robe became, making one feel an urge to pull out their wallet to buy several new outfits for him immediately. If a brush were at hand, they’d definitely want to paint the strange crimson robe black with ink.
It had a truly maddening effect.
Mo Li’s hand twitched, and realizing it was inappropriate, he placed it back on his knee.
He sat upright in deep thought. Was this Meng Qi’s strategy? To defeat him with the reality of seeing him in this outfit?
Undoubtedly, Meng Qi had won.
Mo Li held his forehead with his hand and sighed, “Brother Meng, take off the robe.”
“The doctor chose this one for me… it fits well.”
Meng Qi thought for a long time and could only find this one advantage.
“Forget it, let’s think of another way.” Mo Li said weakly.
For instance, kidnapping the seller of the blood-stained clothes and forcing him to work overnight.
Although forcing others goes against the principles of a gentleman, forcing a swindling vendor could be seen as a different matter.
“Hmm?” Meng Qi touched the robe on his body.
The material of this robe was surprisingly good, very comfortable to wear.
As for ugliness, he couldn’t see it himself.
At this point, Meng Qi’s resistance had mostly disappeared. Throughout his life, he had faced many battles; what obstacle could a piece of clothing pose?
“Doctor, there’s no need to worry. We can try sewing the clothes again. If it doesn’t work, I’ll wear this one.”
Meng Qi appeared calm and unbothered, leaving Mo Li at a loss for words.
***
Monk Yuan Zhi stood in front of the burned-down earth temple at sunrise.
A crowd had already gathered in front of the temple.
These were members of the Four Gangs and twelve assemblies. They hadn’t gone far after departing yesterday, and soon heard about trouble in the city—an incident at the Si family’s rice shop, possibly involving a mysterious assassin organization. Elder Cai of the Dragon Head Association had ordered no one on the Yuzhou road to interfere, but his command only held sway within the Dragon Head Association.
No, even within the Dragon Head Association, there was some unrest.
Authority, like a candle flame, appeared bright but could flicker and nearly extinguish with a gust of wind.
Elder Cai’s authority had been severely undermined after he and his best fighters spent a whole night being bitten by mosquitoes in vain.
Although outwardly things seemed the same as before, changes were brewing beneath the surface. For instance, his orders no longer carried the same weight and failed to command genuine obedience from the members. Everyone had their own thoughts and ideas, and there were countless ways to feign compliance while secretly defying.
A portion of the local bullies on the Yuzhou road had already fallen at the Si family’s rice shop.
That unknown swordsman was terrifyingly fierce, killing more than fifty people, even with the timely intervention of experts from the Fengxing Pavilion.
Some gangs retreated in the face of difficulties, but the remaining local bullies did not give up.
They had lost many brothers; if they shrank back like cowards, it would be hard to continue their lives in the martial world. So whether they were genuinely heartbroken and seeking revenge or merely putting on a show, they adopted a do-or-die attitude.
The great fire at the earth temple attracted the attention of many forces.
The fire had burned thoroughly, even the trees in front of the temple were gone, leaving a charred patch of ground.
By daylight, the temperature of the fire site had slightly lowered, making it possible to search through the remains.
The appearance of the old monk Yuan Zhi caused the crowd to be on alert, and they slowly spread out, surrounding him with weapons in hand.
“Amitabha, this old monk is just a wandering traveler.”
Yuan Zhi pressed his palms together and lowered his gaze, chanting scriptures.
“Master Yuan Zhi.” A voice suddenly emerged from the crowd.
The old monk looked up to see a scholarly man with a folding fan smiling and cupping his hands in greeting.
Yuan Zhi’s expression changed slightly, silently noting that something significant had happened here; otherwise, why would even the master of Fengxing Pavilion be present?
“Benefactor Qiu, it’s been a long time.”
“Not at all, I was just thinking about you, Master. I was wondering how long it would take for you to get here, and you arrived right after. According to Buddhist teachings, this could be considered saving the suffering and the distressed.”
Master Qiu’s words were startling. Monk Yuan Zhi was initially bewildered but quickly realized that Fengxing Pavilion already knew about Meng Qi’s presence nearby.
—Fengxing Pavilion sold Meng Qi’s information to him, and he rushed here, only to encounter them.
“So the Pavilion Master is here waiting for this old monk. What important matter could it be?” Yuan Zhi inquired through a secret transmission, seeing that there were too many people around.
He still owed Fengxing Pavilion a debt, and if he could repay it through this opportunity, it would be a good thing.
Qiu Jing approached Yuan Zhi and whispered, “A mysterious swordsman from the Piaoping Pavilion, with unfathomable strength.”
Yuan Zhi observed Qiu Jing’s pale face and noticed that those accompanying him were also injured internally, realizing they had experienced a fierce battle.
“To be honest with you, Pavilion Master, once this matter is settled, this old monk needs to rush back to Xuan Chuan Pass and has no time to meddle in martial conflicts.”
“Master, you are unaware.” Qiu Jing’s smile faded, and he quickly recounted the conflicts caused by the incident at the Si family’s rice shop.
The more Yuan Zhi listened, the more puzzled he became.
He had no interest in money or silver, and the old monk cared even less about martial conflicts.
Although Piaoping Pavilion had a notorious reputation, in Yuan Zhi’s eyes, they had not indiscriminately killed innocent people. Those who died were mostly driven by greed, which was karma. At most, Yuan Zhi would recite prayers for the deceased and knock on the wooden fish, but he would not take the lead or break his precepts to use violence.
“…The day when several groups sneaked into the rice shop, almost all were killed by that swordsman, except for the people from the Holy Lotus Sect. Upon investigation, these people had already fled while we were entangled with the Piaoping Pavilion assassins. The foundation of the Holy Lotus Sect in Yuzhou was already destroyed, leaving only a motley crew. Could they truly possess such capabilities?”
Qiu Jing stopped speaking and quietly observed Yuan Zhi’s face darken.
Yuzhou was the heartland of the Central Plains, and the Holy Lotus Sect had no influence here. Their stronghold was in the southwestern borderlands. There, the people were deeply deceived, wholeheartedly worshiping the Ziwei Emperor.
Even soldiers guarding the border, within the territory of the Qi Dynasty, dared not travel alone. Many villages had already been secretly controlled by the Holy Lotus Sect, and a careless move by the imperial army could lead to an attack. The number of soldiers who went missing each year was alarming. Yuan Zhi, having witnessed such chaos firsthand, could not help but feel anger upon hearing the mention of the Holy Lotus Sect.
“Are you suggesting that the Piaoping Pavilion and the Holy Lotus Sect are colluding?”
“I fear it’s more than that.”
Qiu Jing tapped his palm with the handle of his fan and said solemnly, “That swordsman’s technique is vicious and bloodthirsty, yet he lightly let go of a few insignificant minions from the Holy Lotus Sect. What does that suggest? If they didn’t already know each other, then the swordsman knew he couldn’t kill them.”
Before Yuan Zhi could respond, Qiu Jing continued:
“Forgive my boast, but with the capabilities of Fengxing Pavilion, there shouldn’t be a force in the world that we can’t track down. Yet, the Piaoping Pavilion is an exception. I’ve always suspected they hide their tracks with the help of other martial forces. The Si family’s rice shop couldn’t achieve this on its own. The force covering for the Piaoping Pavilion must be so clandestine and despised by the martial world that no one would even suspect them… and they might be in desperate need of money.”
What do assassins seek if not money?
Could the Holy Lotus Sect not only deceive the people and harm the innocent but also secretly run an assassin organization to amass wealth?
The veins on Yuan Zhi’s hand gripping his wooden staff began to bulge.
“Are you certain about this?” Yuan Zhi asked.
“How could Fengxing Pavilion deceive the master?” Qiu Jing said sternly. “Master, with your profound Buddhist teachings, you are unwilling to break the precepts, yet you wish to do your part for the peace of the world. Fengxing Pavilion shares this sentiment. Everyone has their own motives, and I wish to use the master’s hand to eliminate that swordsman. Breaking the precept is no small matter; master, please consider it carefully.”
Master Yuan Zhi paused, lowered his eyes, and said, “Amitabha, this vow against killing… will eventually be broken.”
When the rebel army reaches Xuan Chuan Pass, and the pass cannot withstand them, who can remain a bystander?
“The killing and suffering, this boundless sea of misery, I will never be able to cross in this lifetime,” Master Yuan Zhi sighed deeply. “So be it, so be it! If Fengxing Pavilion finds the whereabouts of that swordsman, you can find me at the western hillside thirty miles away. Amitabha.”
With that, he walked away briskly. Qiu Jing watched the old monk’s back, slowly unfolded his fan, and signaled his subordinates to continue searching for useful clues in the ruins.
“Master, we found two charred corpses!”
***
Yuan Zhi did not use his lightness skill; he walked up the hillside step by step.
His straw sandals were worn down to a thin, almost broken layer, and his face had grown more withered. He resembled a leafless, lifeless tree, on the verge of dying under the scorching sun.
Walking monks are also ascetic monks. They chant sutras as they walk, but Yuan Zhi was different; he said nothing, just silently walked.
For a martial arts master, this in itself was a form of cultivation.
He did not use his internal energy, letting his feet develop calluses, get cut by sharp stones, walk on ground heated by the sun, and wade through streams filled with pebbles.
Such a pace was naturally slow. By the time Yuan Zhi arrived at the place he had agreed to meet Mo Li the previous night, it was almost noon.
The sun climbed higher and higher. An ordinary person walking in such sunlight would be drenched in sweat within minutes, their clothes soaked as if washed.
Not a drop of sweat could be seen on Yuan Zhi’s forehead. Just as he was about to find a place to rest, he suddenly heard a sound and looked towards a tall tree.
“…”
A pink figure?
No, it was someone wearing a robe that was partly red and partly pink.
Master Yuan Zhi gaped in astonishment, evidently not expecting the former national advisor to be such a person.
Meng Qi walked gracefully along the tree branches, his robe fluttering in the wind.
Yuan Zhi stood in a daze for several moments before remembering to press his palms together in greeting.
“Amitabha, may I ask if this is the national advisor Meng?”
“Indeed.”
Meng Qi took a step and landed silently.
He tried to forget about the clothes he was wearing and simply looked at Yuan Zhi calmly.
Master Yuan Zhi saw him standing with his hands behind his back, his aura restrained, his demeanor extraordinary, almost otherworldly.
But the clothes… were truly hard to describe…
“I see that the master is troubled and seems to be facing difficulties?” Meng Qi had watched Yuan Zhi walk over from a distance.
Compared to yesterday, today the old monk appeared even more withered, his brow furrowed as if entangled in an unsolvable dilemma.
Yuan Zhi sighed, “I am deeply troubled by the crisis at Xuan Chuan Pass. Coming to see you, national advisor, I know it is abrupt, but I could not avoid it.”
Meng Qi pondered for a moment, then shook his head, “Master, you are too attached.”
“National advisor?”
“What do you think of my robe, Master?”
“This…”
“Silk woven into a robe, dyed in a madder vat. People say its colors are mixed, a scar from trials in the red dust.”
Yuan Zhi was greatly shaken by these words.
The silk drawn from the cocoons by the hardworking silk weavers, woven into fine brocade, then dyed red in a madder vat, created this robe. Everyone said its colors were mottled and ugly, but the dark and light patches were not from fading; they were the marks left by the trials it had endured in the world.
Yuan Zhi had been a monk for many years and had naturally heard many Buddhist verses and shared many with others.
None had ever shaken him as much as this one.
If anyone else had said it, it would have been just an ordinary Buddhist verse. But Meng Qi, wearing such an unusual robe, saying these words with ease, made one think of the experiences of this national advisor. Wasn’t it a scar from trials in the red dust?
As one of the founding fourteen ministers of the Chu dynasty, he excelled in both civil and military affairs, unparalleled.
This Buddhist verse was not about the robe, but about the person.
—The robe made from silk drawn from cocoons through great effort, its brilliant red gradually faded to a mottled and ugly appearance over time.
Things change and people move on, what remains?
Was it people’s words or time that faded the robe’s colors?
Yuan Zhi thought about his purpose in coming here—to probe whether Meng Qi had any intention of restoring the nation and if he would support the three remaining kings of Chu in stirring up another wave of warfare—and felt immense shame, hurriedly pressing his palms together and chanting a Buddhist prayer.
Such a person had great wisdom and could attain great liberation, far beyond himself.
Before Yuan Zhi could finish his thought, he realized that even if Xuan Chuan Pass survived this crisis, the ambitious Tianshou King and the malevolent Holy Lotus Sect, which aided him, would still pose a threat to the nation.
The day of great chaos was not far off, and though monks were supposed to transcend worldly matters, they would eventually be drawn into this cycle of killing and suffering.
But all of this, as the Buddhist verse said, was just a necessary ordeal.
As long as the heart remained unchanged, what was there to fear from people’s words or breaking the precept?
With this realization, Yuan Zhi’s aura suddenly changed. Without saying a word, he immediately sat cross-legged and meditated.
The surging martial energy startled the birds and sent the beasts fleeing.
Meng Qi: “…”
Mo Li, who had been waiting nearby and was startled by the sudden burst of energy: “…”
After a long while, Mo Li asked Meng Qi incredulously, “Did this robe’s ugliness shock Master Yuan Zhi so much that it even made his martial arts break through to a new level?”
Author’s Note:
The faded crimson robe: It wasn’t me, I didn’t, don’t say that.
—
Mo Li, after hearing Meng Qi’s explanation, expressionless: *facepalm*
Mo Li: Why didn’t I buy the robe with the colorful toad embroidery?
