Chapter 170: The Silent Monk
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“Where’s that wooden fish sound coming from?”
Everyone looked around, searching for the source, when a young monk dressed in a white cassock appeared, walking with the wind. Around his neck hung a white jade prayer bead necklace, and in his hand, he held a wooden fish.
Yu Zhao raised an eyebrow when she saw him, her eyes flickering with an amused smile.
“Stupid monk, this has nothing to do with you. Get lost and mind your own business!” The sinister-looking man glared at him fiercely, though his heart was filled with unease.
In the cultivation world, the identities of cultivators from the Harmony Sound Temple were easy to recognize among the one sect, two schools, and four factions. The monk before them appeared young, yet his cultivation was undetectable—highly likely a member of the Harmony Sound Temple. And those monks were not to be trifled with.
The young monk paid no attention to the man’s hostile tone. He maintained a benevolent and compassionate smile as he struck the wooden fish in his hand.
“Dong—”
“Bald donkey, didn’t you hear what our boss said? Get lost! Can’t you speak? What are you, mute?”
“Hahahaha!” Laughter erupted around them.
The young monk’s smile deepened, and he struck the wooden fish again.
“Dong!”
Yu Zhao silently counted in her mind. Only one more strike to go.
The sinister man also sensed that something was off. He hesitated, considering whether to retreat, but the burly cultivator beside him had grown impatient.
“If you won’t leave, then stay here forever!”
Before the words had even faded, the burly cultivator swung his fan-sized hand toward the young monk with a roar of wind.
The young monk calmly raised his hand and struck the wooden fish a third time before everyone’s eyes.
“Dong!”
“Enough! You rotten lot! This monk has had enough of you! Watch as I deliver your salvation!”
The delicate features of the young monk twisted in irritation as he shoved the wooden fish into his sleeve. Gripping the wooden fish mallet, he charged forward, hurling curses.
With a flicker of spiritual light, the mallet, originally the length of a palm, expanded to the width of an arm in an instant. In the blink of an eye, it smashed down on the burly cultivator’s head.
“Bang!”
A sonorous chant of Buddhist scripture echoed in the burly cultivator’s ears. His vision turned black, and he fell backward, sleeping soundly, a serene smile on his face.
The sinister man and his companions froze in shock, their eyes wide.
This young monk wasn’t just capable of cursing—he could fight too! Was he not a Harmony Sound Temple monk but a rogue pretending to be one? Yet his overwhelming combat strength was undeniable. He had taken down their companion in a single blow.
“Retreat!” the sinister man barked decisively.
The rest of the group scattered like frightened birds, abandoning their fallen companion without hesitation.
Yu Zhao stomped her foot heavily. A wave of invisible soul energy surged out from her, centered on her position. The fleeing six tripped over themselves, sprawling on the ground like tumbling gourds.
The young monk glanced at Yu Zhao in surprise, then raised the mallet and systematically tapped each person on the forehead.
All seven collapsed in unison, their faces displaying identical serene smiles. The scene was eerily unsettling.
The young monk straightened up and recited, “Amitabha.” The wooden fish mallet shrank back to its original size as he clasped his hands together in prayer.
“This monk has slipped into idle speech again, embarrassing myself before the lady donor.” His cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he bowed slightly to Yu Zhao, smiling shyly.
“No need to be so polite, Master Monk.” Yu Zhao smiled faintly.
“Does the lady donor know this monk?” the young monk suddenly asked.
“The Silent Monk of the Harmony Sound Temple. Your reputation precedes you.”
Yu Zhao didn’t pretend to be ignorant and immediately identified the young monk’s name.
Silence rubbed his smooth bald head and chuckled, “So, it seems my reputation precedes me already.”
Yu Zhao responded with a faint smile but said nothing.
In her previous life, Silence’s dharma name was indeed infamous throughout the cultivation world—but for all the wrong reasons. He was commonly known as the “Foul-Mouthed Bald Donkey.” Renowned for his vicious tongue and unorthodox ways of “saving souls,” Silence was a name that struck fear into many.
Cultivators unfortunate enough to be struck by his Wooden Fish Mallet often saw their cultivation regress significantly; in the worst cases, their spiritual energy was completely wiped out. His deeds left countless evil cultivators trembling at the mere mention of his name.
However, his rough and abrasive methods also attracted criticism. Many argued that he was unworthy of being a Buddhist cultivator, let alone one from the prestigious Harmony Sound Temple. Silence, for his part, was troubled by this reputation.
Abandoned at birth and raised in a brothel by a courtesan, he had grown up in the streets and picked up the coarse language of his environment. Even after becoming a monk at Harmony Sound Temple, his sharp tongue remained a constant struggle.
Eventually, the temple’s Master Jie Chen devised a solution: Silence would practice Silent Meditation to reduce his verbal offenses. Every time he felt compelled to curse, he was required to strike the Wooden Fish three times. Only if his anger persisted after the third strike was he permitted to speak.
Through this discipline, Silence eventually rose to prominence as a revered monk. Judging by the timeline, however, he had just begun practicing Silent Meditation. His mind was still unsteady, and he often broke his vows.
“Lady Benefactor, these men reek of bloodshed. I have successfully ‘saved’ them. Keeping their possessions will only bring further calamity to their souls. As I see it, we should confiscate their belongings—it would be a meritorious act,” Silence proposed with a serious expression.
Yu Zhao blinked, momentarily stunned, before her lips curved upward. This monk was truly an amusing character.
“Master, your reasoning is impeccable. Yu Zhao humbly learns from your wisdom,” she replied.
With mutual understanding, the two divided the spoils from the seven men’s Storage Pouches under the guise of fairness and compassion.
“Lady Yu…” Silence began.
“Master Silence, please call me by my name,” she interrupted.
“Yu Zhao,” he readily obliged. “I assume you’re heading to the Flame Blazing City for the Cultivation World Tournament. It’s just up ahead. Shall we travel together?”
“I was about to suggest the same.”
With their destination so close, Yu Zhao abandoned her plans for further ambushes and prepared to journey to Flame Blazing City alongside Silence.
Unexpectedly, the monk paused, closed his eyes, and began chanting under his breath. Before Yu Zhao could ask what he was doing, the corpses she had concealed with Illusion Techniques began to shrivel and, within moments, disintegrated into fine powder carried away by the wind.
Her eyes widened slightly. Clearly, Silence had seen through her Illusion Techniques from the start.
“Let’s go,” he said quietly.
With that, the two leapt into the sky, transforming into streaks of light heading toward Flame Blazing City.
…
Meanwhile, in the Northern Region, a thousand miles away…
At the Heavenly Sword Sect, large snowflakes descended from the sky, blanketing the mountain range in thick, pristine snow. The peaks, covered in layers of white, resembled a chain of majestic snow-capped mountains.
Suddenly, a sharp sword light pierced through the sky. The sheer force of the sword energy sent snowflakes spiraling upward.
From the air, Sect Leader Chong Yang, the Sword Sovereign Jiu Hua, and others materialized, their faces filled with awe.
“Jiu Hua, Ji Han Zhou’s speed in breaking through is truly remarkable. Admit it—do you have some secret teaching method you’re hiding from us?” teased an elderly woman with silver hair. Despite looking the oldest among the group, she was actually younger than Jiu Hua, and their long-standing friendship allowed her such casual remarks.
Jiu Hua spread his hands helplessly. “This has nothing to do with me. That kid went on a trip, came back deeply inspired, and has been training like a madman ever since. He’s practically hanging from beams and stabbing himself with needles at this point.”
“Hahaha! Good for Ji Han Zhou! With his breakthrough just before the tournament, our Heavenly Sword Sect stands a real chance of claiming the championship!” Sect Leader Chong Yang was thrilled. He cared little about the reason behind Ji Han Zhou’s diligence and only valued the results.
“Master, forgive my bluntness,” said a disciple, “but our chances of winning the championship this year are slim. Competing for second place against the Green Wood Sect might be more realistic.”