Chapter 187

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After waiting for quite a while, Zhang Xiaohua began to grow impatient. However, looking around, he noticed that none of the Piaomiao Sect disciples showed any sign of restlessness. They stood respectfully, occasionally glancing down the pathway in expectation.

Zhang Xiaohua suddenly felt great admiration for the disciples around him and for the Piaomiao Sect itself. This was the result of their high-quality training! Even without any senior members present, they maintained perfect discipline, something Zhang Xiaohua knew he couldn’t match.

As Zhang Xiaohua was lost in thought, he noticed the disciples’ gazes were now focused on the end of the path. He quickly looked in that direction, but, being shorter than many of the disciples, his view was blocked. It wasn’t until the visitors were closer that he could see who had come to visit the Piaomiao Sect during the Martial Arts Competition.

At the front of the group was not the revered Sect Master Ou but an elderly monk with white hair and eyebrows—oh, correction, his brows were gray, not his beard.  Next to him was Ou Peng, accompanying him with a smiling face. Although the monk was quite old, he looked full of energy, with a straight posture. His eyes were slightly narrowed, and now and then, a glimmer of sharpness flashed within them as he sized up the disciples in the square. His expression was arrogant, with none of the compassion typically associated with monks.

Ou Peng spoke softly to the old monk, who merely nodded in response without saying anything.

Behind Ou Peng was Shui Yupeng, the Deputy Sect Master of the Piaomiao Sect, whom Zhang Xiaohua didn’t recognize. However, he quickly noticed Shui Yupeng’s expression—a mix of awkwardness, anger, and helplessness.

Accompanying Shui Yupeng were the other members of the Piaomiao Six Tigers and various elders. Behind them was a group of Piaomiao Sect Hall Masters, walking alongside a gathering of monks with shaved heads, who varied in age. The older monks had their palms pressed together and occasionally exchanged words with their hosts. The younger monks, some even younger than Zhang Xiaohua, also had their palms pressed together, but their eyes darted around with curiosity, taking in the sights of the Piaomiao Sect’s square.

As the group passed by, Zhang Xiaohua nudged He Tianshu and quietly asked: “Captain He, who are these monks, and why have they come to the Piaomiao Sect?”

He Tianshu whispered: “Zhang Xiaohua, keep your voice down. Their internal skills are profound, so be careful they don’t overhear you.”

Zhang Xiaohua immediately shut his mouth and nodded.

He Tianshu continued: “The elderly monk leading the group is Elder Changgeng, the Law Enforcement Elder of Dalin Temple. He’s a well-known figure in the martial world. It’s said his martial arts are formidable and that he shows no mercy in his actions. He’s known for holding grudges—people fear him not only in Dalin Temple but across the martial world. The fact that he’s brought a group of monks here suggests they might have an issue to settle with our Piaomiao Sect.”

“Ah?! I see.” Zhang Xiaohua murmured, now understanding. “So he holds grudges. Captain He, maybe Piaomiao Sect somehow offended them, and they’re here to cause trouble during the tournament.”

He Tianshu shook his head and replied: “That, I’m not sure about. I’m just a small Captain in the Medicine Hall, responsible for the herbs. I don’t deal with matters as important as this.”

While Zhang Xiaohua and the others speculated wildly in the square, Ou Peng escorted Changgeng to the reed-mat pavilion. Ou Peng invited Changgeng to take the main seat, but the elder opened his eyes, looked at him, and said: “Sect Master Ou, there’s no need for such courtesy. This is your Piaomiao Sect, and I don’t deserve the main seat. Please, take it yourself.”

Ou Peng continued to insist, smiling: “Elder Changgeng, you are a senior in the martial world, someone I’ve admired for a long time. Considering my master’s generation, you are above me in rank. It is only fitting that you take the main seat. Please, Elder, don’t be modest.”

But Changgeng waved his hand dismissively. “I am but a simple monk, not bound by worldly customs. Besides, seniority in the martial world is rather chaotic, so there’s no need to be particular. As the Sect Master of a great sect, you outrank me in status. You should take the main seat.”

Ou Peng, with many polite refusals, could not convince him otherwise, so he reluctantly took the main seat, while Monk Changgeng took the guest seat at the head of the table. The other older monks sat beside him, while the rest of the monks stood in orderly rows behind them.

Once the Dalin Temple monks were seated, the members of the Piaomiao Sect followed suit, with Wen Wenhai, Lu Mingyue, Xue Qing, and other disciples standing respectfully behind them.

After everyone was seated and served fragrant tea, Ou Peng smiled and said: “Please, Elder, enjoy the tea. This tea is unique to our Piaomiao Peak, prepared from the leaves of a special tea tree. I hope you find it to your liking.”

Monk Changgeng took a couple of sips without hesitation and commented: “It’s decent. Though it doesn’t have the lingering flavor of our Dalin Temple’s Buddha tea, it’s fragrant enough and quite pleasant.”

The remark sounded very disrespectful, yet none of the Piaomiao Sect members said anything in response—whether out of restraint or a sense of resignation was unclear.

Seeing the indifferent expressions of his fellow sect members, Shui Yupeng interjected_ “I’ve heard that Dalin Temple is home to enlightened monks, free of worldly desires. Why, then, would you be interested in such indulgences?”

Monk Changgeng gave Shui Yupeng a sidelong glance and, in a low voice, asked: “And you are…?”

Ou Peng quickly introduced: “This is Shui Yupeng, the Deputy Sect Master of our Piaomiao Sect.”

Monk Changgeng, as if already aware, allowed a faint, almost imperceptible smile to cross his face and replied: “Enlightened monks are indeed above such desires, but I have never claimed to be enlightened myself.”

Hearing this subtle retort, Shui Yupeng’s heart skipped a beat, and he lowered his gaze, choosing to remain silent.

Ou Peng sensed the tension and quickly smiled apologetically: “Master Changgeng, since this is your first visit to our humble sect, you must stay a few days and allow us to show our hospitality.”

Monk Changgeng, in the same tone, replied: “There’s no need for that. My visit this time is simply to observe the grandeur of your sect’s Martial Arts Competition and perhaps engage in a bit of martial exchange. Since both our sects are major forces in the martial world, more interaction would promote martial arts development and strengthen the bond between us. Don’t you think so, Sect Master Ou?”

Inwardly, Ou Peng thought: “Trouble—they’re clearly here to challenge us.”

However, he kept his face calm and said: “Dalin Temple’s esteemed place in the martial world is something our Piaomiao Sect cannot hope to rival. It would be best if we learned from Dalin Temple instead of presuming to call it an exchange.”

Monk Changgeng waved his hand and said: “We are all part of the martial world and know each other’s backgrounds, so there’s no need for politeness, Sect Master Ou. I have only brought a few young monks who aren’t particularly skilled, just to have a friendly exchange with your Cloth-Robe disciples. I don’t expect them to impress anyone.”

Ou Peng was taken aback and asked: “Elder, what do you mean?”

Monk Changgeng clarified: “Both Dalin Temple and Piaomiao Sect are well-established sects with a long-standing relationship of mutual respect, so there’s no need to fight to the death. Besides, for people of our age and skill level, we don’t need to settle things at the Martial Arts Competition. I heard that your tournament involves advancement trials, so I brought some young disciples of similar ages to join the excitement. Let the younger generation compete, and we can enjoy watching and offering feedback on the side. Isn’t that delightful?”

Ou Peng suddenly understood. Dalin Temple’s intention was likely to gauge the strength of Piaomiao Sect’s lower-ranking disciples. Winning or losing would both carry risks. A victory would enhance the sect’s prestige and boost morale among its disciples but would also attract Dalin Temple’s scrutiny. On the other hand, a loss would mean humiliation—letting outsiders come to their doorstep only to lose face in front of the martial world, which would be damaging to Piaomiao Sect’s reputation.

However, with Monk Changgeng arriving so suddenly, there was no time to make proper preparations. Fortunately, they had only completed the Cloth-Robe First Level challenges, and the higher levels had not yet begun. For now, they would need to handle it as best they could.

Ou Peng signaled to Zhang Chengyue and then said to Changgeng: “Elder, your timing is rather unfortunate, as our Cloth-Robe First Level challenges are nearing completion. There’s currently only one match left on each platform. How would you like your disciples to participate?”

A slight smile appeared on Changgeng’s face as he said: “As long as there are matches, that’s enough. I have brought some younger children with me. They can step onto the platforms, test their skills, and build a rapport with your disciples.”

Seeing that Monk Changgeng was insistent, Ou Peng had no choice but to ask cautiously: “Elder, may I ask what the rules for this exchange will be?”

Monk Changgeng flicked his sleeve and replied: “Since this is merely an exchange, there should be no injuries. If anyone slips up, that will count as a loss, and there should be strict consequences. Let’s also dispense with any time limits for these matches—only a clear victory will spark the desire to win. Sect Master Ou, what do you think?”

Ou Peng forced a smile and said: “What the Elder says is true. Friendship first, competition second—of course, we can’t allow any injuries. However, what I meant was that on our platforms, there are both Cloth-Robed First Level challengers and Cloth-Robed Second Level defenders. How should your disciples participate?”

“Oh, I see.” Monk Changgeng thought for a moment and said: “That’s easy. Let the Cloth-Robe First Level disciples compete with ours first. If our disciples happen to win, it will count as your disciples’ challenge failure. If your disciples win, they will have successfully passed the challenge. What do you think?”

After he heard this, Ou Peng felt a surge of resentment. How could that be fair? He said that he brought low-level disciples, comparable to their Cloth-Robe First Level. But now, he wanted them to act as substitutes for their Cloth-Robe Second Level disciples, effectively assessing their First Level disciples’ strength. If Piaomiao’s First Level disciples won, it would count as a successful challenge—but what kind of “success” would that be? And if they lost, it would be said that even their First Level disciples couldn’t match the low-level disciples of Dalin Temple. In either case, Piaomiao Sect’s disciples wouldn’t come out ahead.

Though frustrated internally, Ou Peng maintained a polite smile. While his martial arts skills had advanced significantly, and he was confident he could take on this famous monk, a direct confrontation would have serious consequences for Piaomiao Sect. The sect was not yet ready to stand up to a powerhouse like Dalin Temple. Their goal now was to grow quietly, avoiding unnecessary attention until their strength had grown enough to reveal their true power.

If he were to openly oppose Monk Changgeng now, it could lead to a disaster for Piaomiao Sect.

With that in mind, Ou Peng asked: “And for the rest of the disciples’ exchanges, what would the rules be?”

Changgeng chuckled: “Let’s watch how the younger generation fares in their matches first. We’ll discuss the rest afterward. What do you think?”

Ou Peng nodded: “As the Elder instructs.”

Then he turned to Zhang Chengyue and said: “Chengyue, follow the Elder’s directions and make the necessary arrangements.”

Zhang Chengyue bowed and then addressed the group of young monks: “Will the disciples challenging our Cloth-Robed First Level’s disciples please come with me.”

As soon as he finished speaking, three young monks stepped forward. They looked to be around ten years old, about the same age as the Piaomiao Sect’s Cloth-Robe First Level disciples. Seeing this, Zhang Chengyue realized that Monk Changgeng had planned this thoroughly. He thought to himself: “It seems this bald donkey came fully prepared. The remaining Cloth-Robe First Level disciples are likely in for some embarrassment.”

Though the rules had been set, stating there should be no injuries, the possibility of accidents during a match was high. If one were to lose due to a mishap, it would merely count as a defeat, accompanied by “strict punishment”. But what exactly did “strict punishment” entail?

It seemed this hadn’t been clearly explained.

Even if there were no injuries, being thrown off the platform in disgrace would be humiliating not only for the disciple but also for the Piaomiao Sect as a whole.

Zhang Chengyue led the three young monks to the platforms and said: “Honored young masters, here are the five platforms, each hosting a Cloth-Robe Second Level challenge match. You may choose whichever platform you prefer.”

With that, he lightly leapt onto a platform and, using his internal energy, repeated the rules of the match to the disciples gathered in the square. Ordinarily, Zhang Chengyue’s words would have sparked a murmur of discussion among the disciples, but with outsiders here clearly aiming to disrupt things, the disciples’ spirits were already united in solidarity, so no one dared break protocol.

Seeing the disciples were silent and composed, contrary to his expectations, Zhang Chengyue nodded in approval. He then announced: “I now call the disciples challenging the Cloth-Robe Second Level on each of the five platforms to step up.”

After he spoke, the three monks leaped up from the ground, performing a few flips before landing on platforms one, four, and five.

Once the three monks were in place, the disciples on platforms two and three also floated up to take their positions.

After all the challengers were on the platforms, four figures emerged from the crowd and gracefully descended onto platforms one through four. These four disciples seemed to be showing off their Qinggong, or perhaps taunting the monks, as they flew higher and more elegantly, drawing cheers from the audience below.

In truth, these four disciples’ Qinggong wasn’t particularly impressive—it was simply that their movements looked more graceful than the monks’. Naturally, they received applause. Besides, Piaomiao Sect was known for its skill in Qinggong; besting Dalin Temple in this regard would be a morale boost, asserting a bit of dominance over the monks.

Standing on platform one, Zhang Chengyue smiled at the broad-shouldered, simple-looking disciple with large hands and feet before him. Though the disciple’s face was youthful, he was nearly as tall as Zhang Chengyue himself. Zhang Chengyue asked: “Number twelve, what is your name?”

In a loud voice, the disciple replied: “I am Tang Shi, a disciple of Young Eagle Hall.”

Zhang Chengyue nodded, clearly pleased, and said: “Good, Tang Shi, I’ll remember your name. Are you ready?”

Tang Shi nodded in response.

Zhang Chengyue raised his voice: “Good. Let the competition begin.”

He was just about to leap down gracefully when a voice called out from the side: “Wait, wait, I’m not up there yet! Just hold on a moment.”

The disciples on platforms one through four were already prepared, and as soon as Zhang Chengyue gave the command, the four pairs began their matches immediately, fully absorbed in their fights, paying no attention to sounds from the other platforms.

Only Zhang Chengyue, curious, looked toward the fifth platform.

Indeed, there stood a lone monk in white robes, clasping his hands together in confusion, murmuring something while peering down from the platform.

Zhang Chengyue then glanced toward the source of the voice, growing even more surprised.

Running out from the crowd were none other than the brothers Zhang Xiaohua and Zhang Xiaohu.

Zhang Xiaohu carried a ladder-like object on his back, while Zhang Xiaohua was running ahead, already nearing the base of the platform.

Then, in full view of all the disciples, Zhang Xiaohu placed the ladder at the side of the platform. Zhang Xiaohua used both his hands and feet to climb up with impressive agility.

Standing at the edge of platform one, Zhang Chengyue watched in stunned silence, unsure of what to make of it. He executed his Qinggong to leap onto platform five, frowning as he scolded: “Zhang Xiaohua, what are you doing here? This is the Martial Arts Competition challenge…”

Before Zhang Chengyue could finish, he seemed to realize something and, with a tone of disbelief, asked: “Are you, the rumored number 250 disciple?”

Zhang Xiaohua scratched the back of his head, and said sheepishly: “Yes, that’s me—I’m the 250th contestant.”

Zhang Chengyue was puzzled and asked: “Why aren’t you staying put at Huanxi Villa? Why did you come to the Martial Arts Competition?”

But, just as he asked this, he quickly followed up, “Never mind, now’s not the time to discuss that. You heard the rules I announced earlier, didn’t you? Your opponent now is this young master from Dalin Temple. If you can defeat him, your challenge will be considered a success. Although you won’t officially become a Cloth-Robe Second Level disciple of our Piaomiao Sect, the Sect Master will likely reward you. Do you have the confidence?”

Zhang Xiaohua immediately puffed out his small chest and said: “Well, no, I don’t have confidence.”

Zhang Chengyue laughed and said: “Good, well done, truly worthy…” He stopped mid-sentence, suddenly realizing what he had said, and quickly corrected himself: “What? You don’t have confidence!”

Zhang Xiaohua said sheepishly: “Well, if it’s about getting a draw, I have some confidence. But if it’s about winning, that might be a bit much.”

Hearing this, Zhang Chengyue thought to himself: “That’s an honest answer. He’s only been practicing martial arts for a few years, even less than most Cloth-Robe First Level disciples. How could he be a match for these carefully selected disciples from Dalin Temple?”

He patted Zhang Xiaohua on the shoulder and said: “No worries. Show your style, show your skill—that’s enough.”

With that, he leapt down from the platform and headed back toward the reed-mat pavilion.