Chapter 170: The Silent Monk
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“Where’s that knocking sound coming from?”
Everyone glanced around, puzzled, until they noticed a young monk approaching. His white robes fluttered in the wind, and a string of white jade prayer beads hung around his neck. In his hand, he held a wooden fish, which he gently tapped as he walked.
Yu Zhao spotted the monk and raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Hey, monk! This has nothing to do with you. Get lost and mind your own business!” a rough-looking man shouted, his voice full of menace. Despite his harsh words, there was a hint of caution in his eyes. Monks from the Harmony Temple were known to be powerful, and this one, with his calm and unreadable expression, seemed like no exception.
The monk, however, didn’t flinch. He simply smiled warmly and knocked his wooden fish again.
Thump—
“Baldy! Didn’t you hear our boss? Get lost! Are you deaf or just stupid?” another man taunted, causing the group to burst into laughter.
Unbothered, the monk’s smile widened, and he struck the instrument once more.
Thump!
Yu Zhao observed in silence, counting the strikes, sensing that something important was about to happen.
The leader of the group hesitated, suddenly uneasy, but his burly companion was fed up with waiting.
“If you won’t leave, then you can stay here forever!” the big man roared, lunging at the monk, his hand slicing through the air like a blade.
In response, the monk calmly raised his hand and tapped his instrument a third time.
Thump!
“Enough! Your wicked deeds have tested my patience! Prepare for your next life!” the monk declared.
With a quick motion, he slipped the instrument into his sleeve and wielded the striker in his hand, murmuring words under his breath.
In an instant, the small striker expanded, growing as thick as an arm. Though the monk had struck last, his blow landed first, hitting the burly man square on the forehead.
Dong!
A serene chant filled the air as the burly man’s vision blurred, and he collapsed, sinking into a deep, peaceful sleep.
The rest of the group stood in shock. This monk wasn’t just spouting words—he was incredibly powerful, taking down their strongest member with a single blow. They weren’t sure if he was a rogue or a monk from the Harmony Temple, but his skill was undeniable.
“Retreat!” the leader barked, and they scattered, abandoning their unconscious comrade.
Yu Zhao stomped her foot sharply, releasing a surge of spiritual energy. The escaping men tripped and tumbled like scattered gourds.
The monk looked over at Yu Zhao in surprise before methodically tapping each downed man’s head with his striker.
One by one, the men fell, their expressions becoming strangely calm.
The monk stood upright, shrinking the striker back to its original size, and softly murmured, “Amitabha.”
“This monk regrets his harsh words and hopes he didn’t offend the lady,” he said with a bashful smile, bowing slightly.
“No need for formalities, Master,” Yu Zhao replied with a gentle smile.
“Do you know who I am?” the monk asked.
“You’re the Silent Monk from the Harmony Temple. I’ve heard of you,” Yu Zhao responded confidently, recognizing him at once.
The Silent Monk touched his bald head and laughed. “So, my reputation has reached this far.”
Yu Zhao simply smiled. In her previous life, the Silent Monk was infamous in the cultivation world for his crude language and harsh ‘enlightenment’ methods. His striker could cripple a person’s spiritual energy or cultivation level, making even the most hardened villains fear him.
Despite his effectiveness, his rough approach and vulgar speech earned him many critics. Some even questioned if he deserved to be called a monk, especially one from the Harmony Temple.
The Silent Monk’s past was fraught with challenges. Abandoned as a baby and raised in a brothel, he grew up surrounded by harsh words and rough behavior. Even after joining the Harmony Temple, he struggled to leave his old habits behind.
A wise monk from the temple once suggested a solution: “Silent Meditation,” a practice that involved speaking as little as possible to avoid sinful words. Whenever he felt the urge to curse, he was to strike a wooden fish three times before speaking.
Over time, the Silent Monk gained respect for his dedication to Silent Meditation. But it was clear he was still early in his practice, struggling to keep his vow of silence.
“These men intended harm, but I have enlightened them,” the Silent Monk told Yu Zhao. “Their belongings will only cause them more trouble. We should take them as a way to earn merit.”
Yu Zhao was surprised at first but then smiled, amused by the monk’s logic.
“Bhante, you are absolutely right. Thank you for the lesson,” she replied.
Together, they divided the belongings of the seven men fairly.
“Miss Yu Zhao…” the monk began.
“Bhante, please, just call me by my name,” she interrupted.
“Yu Zhao,” he corrected himself. “I assume you’re here for the Cultivation World’s Great Competition. We’re near Yan Yi City. Shall we go there together?”
“I’d like that very much,” Yu Zhao agreed.
As they prepared to head to Yan Yi City, Yu Zhao set aside any thoughts of deceit.
Suddenly, the Silent Monk turned around, closed his eyes, and began to whisper quietly.
Yu Zhao watched in confusion as the bodies she had hidden with an illusion began to shrivel and turn to dust, carried away by the wind.
She realized then that the monk had seen through her illusion from the start.
“Let’s go,” the Silent Monk said gently.
They both leaped into the air, transforming into streaks of light as they sped towards Yan Yi City.
…
Thousands of miles away in the Northern Region, at the Heavenly Sword Sect, snowflakes the size of goose feathers fell steadily.
The mountain range was blanketed in snow, a series of snowy peaks stretching as far as the eye could see.
Suddenly, a brilliant sword light pierced the sky, scattering the snowflakes.
This novel is translated and hosted only on BCatranslation
Master Chong Yang, the sect leader, and several elders, including the esteemed the Nine Flowers Sword Sovereign, watched in awe.
“Nine Hua, Han Zhou’s progress is remarkable. Have you been keeping some secret training method to yourself?” joked an elderly woman with silver hair. Despite her age, she was younger than the Nine Flowers Sword Sovereign. They had been friends for years, so she spoke freely.
The Nine Flowers Sword Sovereign spread his hands helplessly. “It’s not me. The boy went on a journey, experienced something shocking, and returned with a newfound determination to train. He’s been pushing himself to the limit.”
“Hahaha! Good for him! If he can advance before the Cultivation World’s Great Competition, our Heavenly Sword Sect might just win this year!” Sect Master Chong Yang laughed, clearly pleased.
He wasn’t concerned about what motivated Ji Han Zhou; he only cared about the results.
“Leader, with all due respect, it’s unlikely our sect will take the top prize this year. However, we might compete for second place with the Green Wood Sect.”