The Shaolin Abbot Born in the 1980s

Chapter 50: The Iron Walker

After seeing Pu Hang and Pu Du settled, Guan Shanyue returned to Huo Yuanzhen. “Abbot, I think these two have an agenda.” Huo Yuanzhen nodded. “They certainly have an agenda. I’ve been wondering all along—what do they intend to do here at Shaolin?” Guan Shanyue said, “Yes, could it be to witness the Shaolin miracles?” “No. If they just wanted to witness the miracles, they could have gone to see them directly—they wouldn’t have needed to challenge us to a contest. They must have other motives. But aside from our miracles, what else does Shaolin have to offer?” Huo Yuanzhen paced back and forth in the room several times, then suddenly a flash of insight struck him. Ning Wanjun had sent Iron Ox to the Shaolin Temple, and now that tiger was still prowling the back mountain. Huo Yuanzhen had originally thought that Ning Wanjun might know of a master on the back mountain capable of refining the Shaolin Elixir of Immortality, which was why she’d sent either Iron Ox or that tiger to investigate. It was also possible that Ning Wanjun only knew some vague details and wasn’t aware of the specific circumstances. But now that two monks from Mount Wutai had arrived—and they, too, had their own agenda—Huo Yuanzhen had no choice but to give the matter serious consideration. Still, the problem wasn’t too serious at the moment. Setting aside the fact that the Shaolin Temple had masters like Guan Shanyue—who was on the verge of entering the Xiantian realm—even if someone did manage to reach that underground cave, they would likely never return if they acted recklessly. According to Huo Yuanzhen’s assessment, the old man refining elixirs in the underground chamber behind the mountain possessed strength surpassing even Guan Shanyue’s. Still, Huo Yuanzhen had a vague feeling deep down that the matter might not be quite so simple. In Dengfeng County, there was a Cyclamen Restaurant, a century-old establishment with a long history. Their poached chicken and braised beef were unparalleled, and the aged Huadiao wine brewed in their own distillery was considered a masterpiece among wines and was extremely popular. On his second day in Dengfeng, the Iron Wanderer Yue Shan visited this Cyclamen Restaurant. As a wandering ascetic—not a monk—he was free to drink and eat meat as he pleased. He had been repeatedly rejected from entering the Buddhist Order: first, because he was too hot-headed and combative; and second, because his habit of drinking and eating meat was difficult to break. The reason he came to Dengfeng this time to lend Chen Ding a hand was, first, because of their existing friendship, and second, because Monk Li Xuan had said that once the Shaolin Temple was defeated, the Dharma King Temple would be the only Buddhist sect left on Shaoshi Mountain, and at that time, Yue Shan would be invited to serve as an elder at the Dharma King Temple. Yue Shan didn’t care much about the title of “elder,” but entering the Buddhist Order had always been his heartfelt wish. When he arrived at this restaurant, he immediately attracted a lot of attention. By today’s standards, Yue Shan stood just over one meter ninety tall. His thick, long hair hung loose, and he wore an iron headband; slung over his back was a “qimian gun” over five chi long. This staff was no ordinary weapon—forged entirely from cold iron, it weighed one hundred jin, with red copper rings at both ends, and in appearance, it bore a striking resemblance to Sun Houzi’s Golden Hoop Staff. Yue Shan himself was even more formidable. He wore a cowhide vest, his beast-like arms exposed, muscles bulging, and skin deeply tanned—a sight that exuded a captivating, awe-inspiring presence. By the standards of that era, he was undoubtedly a burly giant. Though Iron Ox might have been taller and more muscular than Yue Shan, he lacked Yue Shan’s beast-like aura. The innkeeper was greeting guests at the door. When he saw Yue Shan approaching, his heart skipped a beat, and he stammered, “Th—this… sir, are you here to stay the night? Or to eat?” “I’m here for a drink. Do you have a good seat?” Yue Shan’s massive, round eyes swept over the innkeeper. The innkeeper, who stood only 1. 6 meters tall, felt his legs begin to tremble and hurriedly replied, “Yes, uh… no.” “You’re just a waiter—did you drink too much this morning? Is there one or not?” Yue Shan moved a little closer to the young man, looking down at him from above, his voice like a muffled thunderclap. “Sir… sir, there was actually… a table by the window facing the street, but it was just reserved by Young Master Liu, so… it’s gone.” As he spoke, the waiter wiped the sweat from his brow; he was drenched in sweat. Facing this big shot, he felt as if he could be crushed to death at any moment. Yue Shan burst out laughing. “No big deal. I’ll go up. When that so-called young master arrives, just have him speak to me directly.” After saying this, Yue Shan strode up the stairs, his footsteps echoing loudly. The innkeeper wanted to speak up and stop him, but he simply couldn’t muster the courage. While Yue Shan was heading upstairs, in a teahouse across the street, Su Can set down his teacup and whispered a few words to a young beggar standing beside him. The boy darted out of the teahouse. He ran all the way to a house near the city gate of Dengfeng County. The young beggar rushed inside, where Huang Feihong was practicing his boxing in the courtyard. “Brother Feihong, he’s here—Yue Shan has shown up at Xiankelai. It looks like there’s going to be big trouble soon. Brother Su sent me to tell you—hurry and report this to the Abbot.” “Got it, I’m on my way!” Huang Feihong gave a nod, rushed out of the courtyard, and saw a black horse tied outside. He swung himself onto the horse and rode straight out of the county town. Dengfeng City was about thirty li from the Shaolin Temple. Huang Feihong’s horse was a fine steed, and it would take about half a shichen to reach Shaoshi Mountain. He could only hope that the situation in Dengfeng City wouldn’t escalate too much, so that he would have time to deliver the message. Yue Shan entered the restaurant and spotted an octagonal table by the window—a spot with good ventilation and a view of the scenery below. He chuckled and sat down immediately, calling out to the waiter: “Waiter, bring this old man a chicken, two jin of braised beef, and ten jin of Huadiao wine—hurry up!” The waiter groaned inwardly; this spot had already been reserved by Young Master Liu—and he was no ordinary customer, being the son of Liu Baimian, Dengfeng’s wealthiest man. Liu Baimian was the wealthiest man in Dengfeng, with a fortune of over a million taels. His son, Liu Yunhe, was fond of martial arts but had only average aptitude. Liu Baimian had spent a staggering 200,000 taels to send Liu Yunhe to the Songshan School to train. Liu Yunhe had trained at the Songshan School for eight years. While his martial arts skills hadn’t improved much, he’d certainly spent a fortune and made many friends among his fellow disciples. This time, when Liu Yunhe returned home, he brought nine fellow disciples with him—eight of his own generation and one senior. These men traveled the mountains and rivers, wandering about at their leisure,and they often stopped by Xiankelai for drinks. During this time, they caused no end of trouble in Dengfeng. Some martial artists from the underworld wanted to teach Liu Yunhe a lesson, but his fellow disciples were truly formidable. Without the elder even having to intervene, they drove back every challenger who came—they never failed. And this fellow right now is clearly no pushover either. He’s taken over Liu Yunhe’s spot, so how could Liu Yunhe possibly let this slide? When he shows up at the tavern in a little while, a confrontation is bound to break out. Don’t be fooled by this burly man’s imposing appearance—if it comes to a fight, the waiter doesn’t think anyone could stand up to Liu Yunhe’s fellow disciples. If the big man begs for mercy later, that’s one thing, but if not, there’s likely to be a massive brawl right here in the inn—and I’ll be the one caught in the crossfire. But he didn’t dare provoke Ruyue Mountain, so all he could do was stand there and pray—praying that Liu Yunhe’s group would arrive later, preferably after this pest had left. But, as luck would have it, things didn’t go as he’d hoped. About half an hour later, a burst of laughter drifted up from downstairs in the inn. “Oh no!” The innkeeper hurried downstairs, just in time to see Liu Yunhe and eight others flanking a middle-aged man with a sword on his back as they made their way up the stairs. “Oh my, Old Master Liu, you’ve arrived! You must have had a long and tiring journey.” Liu Yunhe snorted through his nose and flicked his hand, sending a silver coin into the waiter’s palm. Just as they were about to head upstairs, the innkeeper stepped in front of them. Liu Yunhe’s expression turned cold: “Innkeeper, Master Liu is in a good mood and has rewarded you with silver. Now get out of here—what are you doing getting in the way?” “Master Liu, Old Master Liu, I’m not asking for a tip—it’s just that… Oh, could you please hold off on eating for a moment?” “Smack!” A sharp slap rang out, and Liu Yunhe said coldly, “You’ve got some nerve! Do you think you can tell Master Liu when to eat? Hurry up and prepare the meal—if you’re even a moment late, I’ll tear this shabby joint down!” Having been slapped across the face, the innkeeper no longer dared to stammer. He hurriedly said, “Master Liu, I deserve to die, but it really isn’t possible right now. Just a moment ago, a burly man came in and took your table. I tried to explain it to him, but he wouldn’t listen…” “Is that so!” The eyes of the group of Songshan disciples lit up. While sightseeing was nice, they were, after all, men of the martial world—clashing with rivals and engaging in fierce battles was what truly thrilled them. Now that someone had actually snatched their spot, they were instantly fired up. Liu Yunhe turned directly to the middle-aged man and asked, “Uncle Master, what do you think?” “Let’s go check it out,” the middle-aged man replied haughtily, then led the way upstairs, with the nine behind him following in single file. “It’s over! This is going to end badly!” The innkeeper, sensing trouble, hurried after them, hoping to persuade Yue Shan to yield the table to Liu Yunhe and his group. By the time he ran upstairs, Liu Yunhe and his group were already standing in front of the table. Liu Yunhe stepped forward and said to Yue Shan, “Where did this ruffian come from? Hurry up and give your seat to Master Liu!” It was meant to be a taunt, but to Yue Shan’s ears, it sounded like an insult. Having lost both parents at a young age, he’d been called a “wild child” since childhood. Later, he nearly starved to death in the wilderness before being saved by an old monk, who taught him martial arts and gave him this staff. After the old monk died, he was alone once more. That’s why Yue Shan yearned for the Buddhist Order and loathed it even more when people called him a “wild child,” “savage,” or “roughneck.” He had originally intended to give up his seat for Liu Yunhe, but now that Liu had called him that, Yue Shan was furious. He sprang to his feet and glared with his beady eyes: “Kid, who are you calling a ‘wild man’!” Before Liu Yunhe could answer, a senior monk standing behind him said coldly, “So what if I was talking about you?” “Ah!” Yue Shan roared, yanking the cold iron staff from his back with such force it whistled through the air, and brought it crashing down on the speaker like a mountain crushing from above!