Next to Miaoxing's meditation room was a small courtyard where he had planted some tuberoses. The clusters of these hardy flowers had been trampled by an unknown person, who seemed to be heading toward the Scripture Storage Pavilion. Tang Lici looked up at the pavilion, where a faint candlelight flickered before gradually growing brighter—a fire had broken out inside the Scripture Storage Pavilion.
Tonight, someone had killed Miaozhen, abducted Miaoxing, and set fire to the Scripture Storage Pavilion.
Miaozhen and Miaoxing were not skilled in martial arts, but their mastery of Plum Blossom Numerology made them top-tier experts. Who could have killed him? Either it was an unparalleled master, or it was someone he trusted deeply.
Tang Lici’s visit to Pu Zhu tonight had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, and he had told no one about it. Yet, the moment the Monk Soldiers were alerted at the mountain gate, Miaozhen in the meditation room was already dead.
What did this mean?
It meant the murderer had been inside Shaolin Temple all along.
At this very moment, the murderer or their accomplice was setting fire to the Scripture Storage Pavilion. Tang Lici knew full well that rushing into the pavilion would be futile—who knew how much evidence had already been planted to frame him for arson, theft of scriptures, or looting treasures. Without checking how many corpses lay in the other meditation rooms, he immediately sprang up and dashed toward the abbot’s quarters.
The flames in the Scripture Storage Pavilion grew fiercer, making it impossible for the arsonist to see Tang Lici’s exact location below. But from the nearly imperceptible rustle of robes in the woods, someone on the pavilion sighed softly and murmured, "This man acts with such decisiveness. He didn’t even spare a second glance at the meditation room… no trace of curiosity left."
Another person on the pavilion sighed faintly. "Master..."
"Your junior brother has arrived. The young master and I shall take our leave first." The elderly monk holding the candle pulled the person beside him and leaped down from the pavilion. His movement was weightless, barely touching the stone path of Shaolin Temple before vanishing without a trace.
Moments later, Dabao Chanshi, who had been at the mountain gate, landed atop the Scripture Storage Pavilion. Seeing the raging flames—which had started in the third-floor martial arts archive—he was struck with horror.
The martial arts archive was secured with three layers of locks and guarded day and night by Shaolin disciples. How could someone have set it ablaze so easily? That archive held the essence of Shaolin’s thousand-year martial heritage—many techniques no longer practiced, awaiting future generations to revive them. And now, they were being consumed by this inferno? How could they ever face their ancestors?
Dabao Chanshi charged into the martial arts archive, only to find the night-watch disciples dead, their throats pierced by a pearl. Enraged, he roared, "Tang Lici!"
His Lion’s Roar shook the entire Shaolin Temple, rustling the trees and sending leaves fluttering down. Monks in meditation or light sleep jolted awake in alarm. The temple bell tolled low and urgent, its deep gongs ringing incessantly to signal an extreme emergency.
Monks emerged from their meditation rooms all around—except for the row of rooms beside the Scripture Storage Pavilion, which remained eerily silent.
Dabao Chanshi and Dahui Chanshi met beneath the burning pavilion but found no sign of Da Shi or Dacheng. Just then, a piercing scream rang out nearby. A young novice, his face deathly pale, stumbled out of the farthest meditation room and collapsed at Dahui Chanshi’s feet.
"Master… Dacheng Chanshi has been murdered!" the novice wailed, his voice shrill and broken with terror. "There was… a very, very long blade..."
Dahui and Dabao paled in shock. Without hesitation, they both leaped forward and rushed into Dacheng Chanshi’s meditation room.Shattering the window and entering, the first thing Da Hui noticed was that the doors and windows of the room were securely locked, the main door's bolt intact. On the floor were several small bloody footprints left by the young novice who usually attended to Da Cheng, the blood still fresh. Da Cheng Chanshi had been impaled through the chest by a long blade, the hilt buried deep, blood pooling around him. He sat cross-legged on a meditation cushion, seemingly in the midst of meditation when someone suddenly stabbed him through the chest.
Though Da Cheng Chanshi's martial arts were not as formidable as Da Bao's, he was no ordinary practitioner, especially skilled in the Luohan Fist, which he had mastered to perfection. Like Da Bao, he was tall and robust, with piercing eyes, in the prime of his life... yet someone had run him through with a single strike—Da Bao and Da Hui were both shocked and enraged, momentarily at a loss.
Da Hui said gravely, "This matter is of utmost importance. Tang Lici is suspected to have led his men here. We must summon the abbot from seclusion!"
Da Bao's palms were slick with cold sweat. "But Puzhu, our junior, has entered a life-and-death retreat..."
Da Hui replied, "Given the circumstances, even if he were to pass upon exiting, he must come out! Tonight is a matter of life and death—a great demon has emerged. If the abbot does not subdue it, if Shaolin does not subdue it, who will?"
Da Bao murmured, "Amitabha..."
Meanwhile, rows of meditation rooms were being opened one by one by the monks. The horrific scenes inside had the Shaolin monks chanting Buddhist prayers. Many young novices, inexperienced in such calamities, burst into tears, some even fainting on the spot.
Aside from Miaozhen's death and Miaoxing's disappearance, Miaozheng's room held two people. Miaozheng had been struck on the crown of his head, his skull shattered. The other person in the room was a middle-aged stranger dressed in night attire, severely injured by Shaolin's "Luohan Fist," his bones crushed.
Such brutal battles seemed to have occurred in mere moments, perhaps even just moments ago! Yet Da Bao and Da Hui had heard nothing. Moreover, Da Shi Chanshi and Miaoxing were missing, their fates unknown. Additionally, scattered on the ground were a few bloodstained pearls and several exquisitely crafted teardrop-shaped hidden weapons.
In their grief, some Shaolin monks cried out, "Tang Lici, steeped in evil, dares to kill and burn on Shaolin grounds, defiling our Buddhist sanctity! If we cannot subdue this demon, where will righteousness and mercy remain in this world?"
Another monk angrily added, "Dahui Chanshi, in the courtyard, we found the corpse of Tang Lici's accomplice, one of the Seven Cloud Traveling Guests, a practitioner of Plum Blossom Numerology! He died from Shaolin's demon-subduing techniques—he must have fought Da Shi Chanshi and met his end! This is irrefutable proof that Tang Lici led his men to destroy Shaolin! Now Da Shi Chanshi is missing... perhaps... perhaps he fell victim to their treachery..." His voice choked with emotion. This young monk, named Pu Feng, was Da Shi's junior, hence his deep sorrow and indignation.
Even monks who cultivate emptiness as emptiness are still human. Faced with life and death, how can one truly remain composed?
Da Hui remained at the Scripture Storage Pavilion to oversee firefighting and tally the casualties, while Da Bao headed to the abbot's quarters to summon Puzhu from seclusion to take charge.
Da Bao Chanshi strode swiftly, barging straight into the abbot's quarters.
Before the abbot's quarters stood a leaning green pine, with naturally formed rocks beside it creating a majestic, mountainous aura—nothing else adorned the space. The moonlight shone on the pine-covered slope, casting the bluestone slabs before the abbot's quarters in their usual snowy glow.
Da Bao Chanshi mustered his strength and forcefully pushed open the abbot's quarters, sealed for months.
"Abbot!" he shouted sternly inside. "We request the abbot to emerge from seclusion!"In response came the sharp "clang" of a sword. The abbot's chamber was filled with crisscrossing Sword Qi, fierce and wild. A bone-chilling gust of sword wind suddenly slashed toward him. Dabao Chanshi leaned back to dodge, rolling onto the ground before looking up to see the abbot's chamber in complete disarray.
It turned out Pu Zhu wasn't alone in the room.
There were three people inside.
One was Pu Zhu, his black hair loose and disheveled.
Another was Tang Lici, dressed in white robes and plain shoes.
The third wore tight black clothing, his face concealed behind an eerie and inscrutable Vairocana Buddha mask.
Dabao Chanshi froze, murmuring, "Gui Mudan?"
The three inside the chamber had only paused briefly when he burst through the door before resuming their fierce battle.
Pu Zhu had not yet taken his monastic vows—his hair was still black. Dabao couldn't make out his expression, but he saw Pu Zhu gripping a longsword, striking relentlessly at Tang Lici. Tang Lici also held a sword, its blade faintly glowing as if it were a Jade Sword. Meanwhile, Gui Mudan fought bare-handed, assisting Tang Lici in attacking Pu Zhu.
Dabao Chanshi scrambled to his feet, his voice trembling. "Abbot-nephew! Senior brothers Da Cheng, Miaozhen, and Miaozheng have passed into Nirvana! Miaoxing and Da Shi are missing—likely also victims of Tang Lici's treachery..."
At these words, Pu Zhu, his face obscured by his black hair, tilted his head slightly. With a resonant "hum," his sword swept out in an overwhelmingly fierce slash toward Tang Lici.
Dabao Chanshi suddenly realized with horror—Pu Zhu had drawn his sword with his eyes closed. At some point during his seclusion, Pu Zhu had gone blind. He then noticed that Pu Zhu stood in the abbot's chamber, sword in hand to fend off his enemies, yet he neither stepped out nor raised an alarm. The reason became clear: Pu Zhu's right leg was shackled by a chain to the meditation bed in the chamber. The only reason he could stand and fight was that the chains binding his hands and left leg had been broken—the severed ends dripping with blood, evidence of how long he must have struggled to break free.
And yet, throughout it all, Pu Zhu had not uttered a single word or made any sound.
A chill ran through Dabao's heart.
As he watched the three locked in combat inside the chamber, his mind was filled with confusion. Just what... had happened here?
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