After fetching water and having breakfast, Meng Qi could hardly wait to grab a broom and head toward Chanxin Courtyard, hoping to learn from Jiang Zhiwei, Zhang Yuanshan, and others why the morning bell had rung with such urgency.
Had they discovered Qing Jing’s death?
Had any experts at the Dharma Body level found any clues? How were the various sects in the Great Jin responding?
With these questions in mind, Meng Qi entered Chanxin Courtyard and began sweeping the thin layer of snow that had accumulated overnight, feigning diligence.
As he swept, he secretly observed disciples from various sects coming and going within the multiple courtyards. Though most wore expressions of shock and confusion, only a few appeared deeply troubled.
“Hey, that younger martial brother sweeping over there,” Zhang Yuanshan’s familiar voice suddenly reached Meng Qi’s ears.
Meng Qi turned his head and saw Zhang Yuanshan standing in front of a guest room, waving at him. “Excuse me, younger martial brother, please come in and clean. I’ve been restless and made a mess of the floor.”
“Alright,” Meng Qi naturally understood that Zhang Yuanshan was merely using this as an excuse to get him inside. He promptly picked up his broom and dustpan and walked toward the room.
Zhang Yuanshan waited politely at the doorway, allowing Meng Qi to enter first before stepping aside and casually glancing around the surroundings.
As Meng Qi entered the room, a bright yellow figure immediately caught his eye—Jiang Zhiwei was already there.
He lowered his head cautiously and began sweeping the tea stains and debris from the floor.
Jiang Zhiwei chuckled. “Little monk, it’s you again?”
“Replying to Lady Jiang, I have been assigned to clean Chanxin Courtyard these past two days,” Meng Qi, recognizing that Jiang Zhiwei was pretending they had only met the previous day, played along accordingly.
At the sound of “Lady Jiang,” Jiang Zhiwei raised her right hand to cover her mouth, then turned serious and solemnly said to Zhang Yuanshan, who had just reentered the room, “Brother Zhang, I and Elder Sister Qi became acquainted through a fight yesterday, forming a bond. Who would have thought she would meet such a tragic fate today? I truly cannot calm my heart. You were close to her—did you notice any clues? I swear, with my sword in hand, I will seek justice for Elder Sister Qi!”
Yesterday, Qi Xia had been eliminated by her.
What? Qi Xia was dead? Shock surged through Meng Qi like a violent storm. How could Qi Xia have died? That clever, charming girl from the southern water towns, who loved intricate mechanisms and hidden weapons—how could she be gone?
Clang! Despite his efforts to remain composed, Meng Qi’s shock made him drop the broom. This outcome had completely exceeded all his expectations!
The sound of the broom falling slightly snapped Meng Qi back to his senses. Hurriedly bending down to pick it up, he feigned nervousness. “I, I apologize.”
His stutter wasn’t deliberate—it stemmed purely from his astonishment.
“It’s fine. At that moment, I was no less shocked than you. This matter is truly horrifying,” Zhang Yuanshan comforted Meng Qi, maintaining the demeanor of speaking to an unfamiliar Shaolin disciple. Then, turning to Jiang Zhiwei, he continued, “At the beginning of the year in Maoling, I met with Junior Martial Sister Qi once. Although our conversation was brief, I noticed nothing unusual. It seems, just as Master Kongwen said, she was killed by a curse within her body when she attempted to expose that secret. Alas, she was so full of youthful promise—what a tragic loss. Truly heartbreaking.”
The sorrow and regret in his tone were genuine.
Although they couldn’t openly discuss organizations like “Fairy Traces,” the deaths of Qi Xia and Qing Jing were bound to become public knowledge soon. Therefore, Zhang Yuanshan and Jiang Zhiwei used this opportunity to inform Meng Qi in advance, so he wouldn’t accidentally reveal his knowledge in front of other monks.
So Qi Xia was killed for attempting to expose the “Cycle World” secret… She must have confronted a Dharma Body expert directly, yet still met her end. Just how powerful was the “Lord of the Six Realms” to be capable of such a feat? Meng Qi now understood the cause of Qi Xia’s death, but his inner turmoil showed no sign of subsiding. Who would willingly be controlled? Who would willingly be forced to complete dangerous tasks in exchange for “divine techniques and immortal pills”?
Even a Dharma Body expert like the “Arhat of Taming Dragons” was powerless to stop the “Lord of the Six Realms”?
Jiang Zhiwei sighed deeply. “Qing Jing also died under suspicious circumstances. The true culprit behind this is truly despicable!”
“Yesterday, I had a question, Sister Jiang. Did you notice it?” Zhang Yuanshan hesitated slightly before speaking. “When Junior Martial Sister Qi’s curse struck, although Master Kongwen claimed he arrived too late, he never displayed the power of his Arhat Golden Body. That is truly unusual. I privately asked Senior Master Xuanyuanzi about it, but he only said the rumors were true.”
Jiang Zhiwei pursed her lips. “I noticed that too. After returning to Chanxin Courtyard, I asked my master, but he merely told me to gather information myself and deduce the truth.”
No display of the Arhat Golden Body? That meant there was still no proof that the “Lord of the Six Realms” had surpassed the Dharma Body level and reached the legendary realm of Dao Venerables and Buddha Ancestors. Meng Qi felt slightly relieved but grew even more curious about why Kongwen had refrained from revealing his Golden Body.
“In the end, it’s because our strength is too weak to access higher-level matters,” Zhang Yuanshan sighed sincerely, his previous hidden arrogance gone—currently, his martial arts were sufficient for his age.
Only by growing stronger, stronger, and even stronger could they gradually escape the grasp of the “Lord of the Six Realms” and avoid dying in brutal tasks. Yet, to grow stronger quickly, they seemingly still had to rely on the “Lord of the Six Realms.”
Jiang Zhiwei’s right hand moved as if plucking the strings of a qin across her sword scabbard. Gazing at the pale blue sky outside the window, her voice was steady and resolute. “Perhaps one day, we too will face similar situations. At that time, we must rely solely on our swords to carve out a chance for survival. I offer these words to Brother Zhang as encouragement.”
The two spoke as if Meng Qi were invisible, reminiscing about the events of this morning at the Grand Buddha Hall, except for the matters concerning the “Fairy Traces” and “Myth” organizations.
That discussion would have to wait until the next Cycle Task at the Jade Plaza. Otherwise, if senior disciples from various sects within the courtyard overheard, they would surely become suspicious.
After slowly finishing the cleaning, Meng Qi left the room after Jiang Zhiwei and returned to the courtyard, continuing his “life of sweeping,” his mind in turmoil with endless thoughts.
After lunch, Meng Qi began circulating his true qi according to the “Iron Shirt Qi Method,” striving to internalize the knowledge others had imparted.
At that moment, however, Xuanxin rang the small courtyard bell, summoning everyone to assemble.
“Quickly go clean the square near the main gate to respectfully see off the guests from other sects,” Xuanxin, looking as if he had been awakened from a nap, angrily ordered. Muttering under his breath, he added, “Has the Chief Disciple’s mind been eaten by a demon? Since when has Shaolin needed to show such deference to other sects?”
Meng Qi’s heart stirred—he roughly guessed the reason. With the disciples from the Xuantian Sect and the Great River Gang having died tragically within the temple, Shaolin was at fault and needed to make amends.
Quickly grabbing brooms and buckets, everyone rushed to the square near the main gate and divided the cleaning tasks.
Thanks to having “mastered” the Iron Shirt technique and possessing basic internal skills, Meng Qi found the sweeping much easier. More than once, he was tempted to secretly practice the “Eight Steps of Divine Agility,” but he knew that numerous experts from various sects were present, both among the departing guests and the monks seeing them off. If anyone discovered that his lightness technique didn’t align with Shaolin’s style, under the current circumstances, he would likely face interrogation.
Amid the tinkling of wind chimes, Zhenyan suddenly pointed into the distance. “Zhen Ding, that’s Jiang Zhiwei, the champion of this martial contest, and heir of the Washing Sword Pavilion.”
He was close to Meng Qi and Zhenhui, so naturally, they gathered together after finishing their cleaning.
At that moment, experts and disciples from various sects were walking toward the main gate, accompanied by several senior monks and elders wearing red robes. Zhenyan was pointing at Jiang Zhiwei, who followed behind a man in green robes.
Hmph, do I need an introduction? We’re practically old friends! Meng Qi inwardly scoffed in modern lingo but outwardly feigned excitement. “Oh, that’s the young lady! When I was cleaning Chanxin Courtyard, she kindly helped me once.”
“Brother, that doesn’t seem right,” Zhenhui stared blankly at Meng Qi.
Zhenyan, curious, asked, “Zhen Ding, is Jiang Zhiwei the type of girl who’s aloof and cold? I’ve heard that girls with exceptional sword skills often act that way.”
Meng Qi had originally wanted to boast but ultimately restrained himself. “I don’t know either. From what I saw when she helped me, she seemed very approachable. By the way, younger martial brother, what seems off to you?”
Zhenhui frowned at Meng Qi. “Brother, doesn’t it usually go that heroes rescue beauties?”
Go away! Meng Qi wanted to shout at his clueless younger martial brother.
Zhenyan couldn’t help but laugh—he knew Zhenhui was too immersed in the various martial arts stories Meng Qi had made up.
The novice monks around them began whispering.
“Isn’t that Zhang Yuanshan from the Zhenwu Sect? I heard from other senior brothers that he’s a renowned young expert of this generation and may soon enter the Human Rankings.”
“Yes, but I heard he lost to Jiang Zhiwei of the Washing Sword Pavilion by half a move yesterday.”
“Such a delicate little girl?”
“Don’t underestimate little girls. My mother told me—the more beautiful the girl, the more formidable she is!”
The novice monks had ended up in the labor quarters for various reasons, and inevitably some spoke crudely.
“Ah, what’s wrong with being a little girl? In ten years, she’ll probably step into the Outer Scenery realm and become a true expert. With her beauty and status, she’ll be pursued by countless martial heroes and hailed as a fairy.” Zhenyan suddenly sighed. “Zhang Yuanshan is the same—being a direct disciple of the Zhenwu Sect and receiving favor from his seniors, his future is limitless. Unlike us, mere labor monks who don’t even have the qualification to stand beside them!”
“Yeah, not even standing beside them, just being acknowledged by them would satisfy me. When I return to secular life, I can at least brag to the villagers that I once had a connection with a great hero or fairy of the martial world!” Other novice monks echoed similar sentiments.
For a moment, the novice monks were filled with envy and jealousy.
Suddenly, Jiang Zhiwei and Zhang Yuanshan both turned their heads almost simultaneously, glancing toward this side and giving Meng Qi an almost imperceptible nod.
“Haha, are they looking at me?”
“Are you satisfied now?”
“Who? Who are they looking at?”
The novice monks immediately became excited, buzzing with chatter.
Meng Qi exhaled, calming the sudden complexity of emotions within, and watched Jiang Zhiwei and the others depart.
“In the future martial world, they’ll probably be figures who dominate the scene!”…
Amid similar sentiments, Meng Qi, Zhenhui, and Zhenyan gathered their tools and returned to the labor quarters.
As they walked, Zhenyan spoke with a touch of melancholy. “They walk the path to heaven, while we can’t even take a single step out of this labor quarter. Alas, Brother Zhen Ding, Brother Zhen Hui, aren’t you sad? Don’t you feel despair?”
Meng Qi inwardly thought, I need to find an opportunity to leave Shaolin. With the Cycle World present, his martial arts might suddenly surge, and staying here would inevitably invite suspicion. But it wasn’t urgent—he currently needed sparring partners to improve. Leaving Shaolin now, with his current abilities, would make it hard to find suitable opponents who wouldn’t kill him—his Iron Shirt was only at the Qi Accumulation stage, a common martial technique, so he had many excuses to explain his progress.
Moreover, if he could, during this time, find a master to learn one of the Seventy-Two Supreme Techniques, his chances of survival in the Cycle World would greatly increase. In any case, he would eventually have to descend the mountain.
At this moment, Zhenhui naively replied, “Why should I be sad? When sweeping, focus on sweeping. When eating, focus on eating. When listening to stories, focus on listening. When sleeping, focus on sleeping. Why should I be sad?”
“Huh?” Zhenyan was stunned and couldn’t reply, when a soft “Hm?” sounded from the side.
Meng Qi didn’t need to turn his head. His heightened senses, greatly improved from cultivating his dantian and accumulating internal energy, had already detected the formidable Master Xuanku approaching with another yellow-robed monk.
“Master Xuanku, Master Xuanchi,” Zhenyan, following the sound, quickly clasped his hands in greeting.
After Meng Qi and Zhenhui also bowed, Xuanku nodded slightly. “Zhenhui, tomorrow go to the Warrior Monk Courtyard.”
“Huh?” Except for Zhenhui, who still didn’t understand the situation, both Meng Qi and Zhenyan were shocked.
The sharp and imposing Xuanchi, whose skin faintly gleamed with gold, glanced at Meng Qi. “You’re Zhen Ding?”
“Yes, Master,” Meng Qi felt utterly bewildered.
Xuanchi slightly nodded. “You will also go to the Warrior Monk Courtyard tomorrow.”
“Huh?” Meng Qi was also stunned.
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