Chapter 943: The Visitor Is Not Friendly

The newly built thatched hut in the quiet part of Great Lotus Peak had never been so lively.

The white-robed monk was tall, yet his physique appeared exceptionally harmonious. The prayer beads hanging from his chest were dark in color, clearly a world apart in value and rarity from the precious Buddhist beads of eminent monks in many great temples of the Central Plains.

Since his return from a journey of ten thousand li to the West, he had not worn any other beads, only this string of peach wood prayer beads. These beads were a token of love from his wife. After giving them to him, she wasn't without regret, as she later heard that peach wood was highly regarded in Taoism for warding off evil and misfortune, but in Buddhism, peach wood prayer beads were considered insignificant. Yet, the white-robed monk Li Dangxin never took these beads off, except to hang them on the wall before sleeping. There is a Buddhist saying, "Quiet contemplation frees one from delusion; hold the beads close to your heart." His secular name was also Li Dangxin, which is why, when he entered the capital in his white robes, the old Li Yang Emperor bestowed upon him a priceless string of seven-jewel beads, which he casually tossed into a box. After his daughter, Li Dongxi, was born, his wife would periodically take a dozen or so beads from it to weave into a circlet for their daughter’s head. The little girl, who loved to run wild all over Liangchan Temple, had no idea how valuable those beads were and would quickly scatter and lose them. Fortunately, no one in this family of three ever felt a pang of regret.

At this moment, seated opposite the white-robed monk were three Taoist priests from two Taoist ancestral temples: Bai Yu, who had just been promoted to Prefect of Liangzhou; Qi Xianxia, also one of the junior Heavenly Masters not of the main Longhu Mountain lineage; and Han Gui from Green Mountain Temple on Wudang’s Little Pillar Peak.

Not far away, Li Dongxi, Wu Nanbei, Yu Fu (the sole disciple of the current Wudang Abbot Li Yufu), and Han Gui’s disciple, the young Taoist Qingxin, were all huddled together, squatting and listening to Li Dongxi recount her stirring tales of martial arts adventures.

The white-robed monk’s wife was already taking her afternoon nap. Earlier, upon learning that the three Taoists had come calling together, she had leaned against the doorframe and tutted, “So many people, they must mean trouble.”

The white-robed monk chuckled, “It’s just an argument; there’s nothing to fear.”

She still seemed a bit worried and said, “Then I won’t prepare tea. Let them get parched. But you can always find an excuse to come inside and drink water.”

“Alright.”

“Won’t that be impolite?”

“No.”

“Oh, right. If you really can’t win the argument, and it comes to blows, remember not to hit them in the face. You’ll just give them something to talk about. Got it?”

“What, can’t win? Then let’s just chat peacefully. Ha, when you’re out and about, harmony brings wealth.”

“We can win.”

“Oh. Also, remember not to be too over the top. Our daughter still wants to play on the mountain for a few more days.”

“Understood.”

At this moment, the white-robed monk conversed happily with the three Taoists, as their discussion did not delve into the fundamental disputes between Buddhism and Taoism.

He asked, “Is Abbot Li cultivating in seclusion at Little Lotus Peak?”

As the only Taoist in Wudang to “open a peak” in the last twenty years, the usually uncontentious Han Gui did not conceal the matter, nodding, “Our Abbot-Brother had an enlightenment recently.”

The white-robed monk smiled, “Good news.”

He gently stroked the peach wood prayer beads, saying calmly, “The land sinking in the southeast, all four rivers flowing into the Xun position—it is not without the meaning of having a beginning and an end.”

Han Gui, in his plain Taoist robe and Dongxuan turban, appeared somewhat wistful. Bai Yu, whose eyes were strained from reading, habitually narrowed them, as if detached from the scene. Qi Xianxia looked up at the rolling sea of clouds atop Great Lotus Peak, filled with emotion.

The white-robed monk asked with a smile, “'If one cannot express what is in their heart, even living to a hundred years is but an untimely death.' Was that something Cao Changqing said after he became Imperial Chess Master of Great Chu?”

Bai Yu shook his head, “It was actually spoken by Cao Changqing’s mentor, Li Mi. For Cao Changqing to shift from a Confucian sage to a practitioner of the Hegemonic Way, this phrase was likely the crucial point.”

The white-robed monk gently twirled his prayer beads. “If beautiful flowers, a full moon, and a long life are the ultimate desires of ordinary people, then a smooth will and unobstructed thoughts must be the pursuit of you Taoists, right?”

The somewhat languid Bai Yu rubbed his eyes and asked with a smile, “What, are we going to argue now? But there’s not even a cup of tea here.”

The white-robed monk said softly, “My wife forbade tea; I wouldn’t dare take liberties. As for arguing…”

The white-robed monk’s gaze swept over their heads, looking towards the distance, and he called out loudly, “Disciple, come, come! Come discuss Buddhist Dharma with Mr. White Lotus!”

Unexpectedly, the young monk slightly raised his small bald head and said reluctantly, “Master, if it weren’t for Li Zi stopping me, I would be buying rouge for Mistress at Yuqing Temple. Mistress said there’s a beautiful young woman there who sells hollyhock rouge that’s very inexpensive and good quality these days. And apparently, they even have special fine rouge from Jiangnan’s Wuyue Yanliu Workshop. If we go too late, there might not be any left.”

The white-robed monk glared, “You still dare to mention that fine rouge?! A tiny box the size of a fingernail sells for five taels of silver?! If you hadn’t mentioned it to Mistress, how would she have been thinking about it all night? Last night, she was even muttering in her sleep, ‘fine rouge, fine rouge’!”

The young monk retorted self-righteously, “Your disciple just thinks that rouge is genuinely good! The cheap ones in Taoshu Town at the foot of the mountain are affordable, but their scent is too pungent. And even though their boxes are bigger, Master, you saw yesterday, didn’t you? Because she thought it was cheap, Mistress applied so much to her face that when she lowered her head to eat, it would flake off into her rice bowl. It was quite unsettling! And Master, you’re something else too. Even though you were visibly alarmed, you still told Mistress, ‘This sight is truly like a heavenly maiden scattering flowers, rare in the human world.’ Then Mistress grinned, and even more rouge flaked off…”

The white-robed monk coughed a few times.

Bai Yu felt that if this middle-aged monk from Liangchan Temple hadn’t been absent from the Buddhist-Taoist debate on Longhu Mountain over a decade ago, he wouldn’t have had the chance to turn the tide.

Han Gui, the abbot of Green Mountain Temple, sat with eyes downcast, appearing like an old monk in meditation, though he was a Taoist.

Qi Xianxia seemed to surreptitiously rub his forehead.

Suddenly, two voices, one from inside the hut and one from outside, simultaneously exclaimed with surprise, “Fine rouge from Yanliu Workshop?!”

The voice from inside, naturally, belonged to the white-robed monk’s wife. The voice from outside was Li Dongxi, who then abruptly stood up and dashed towards the hut, shouting, “Mom! Dad recently hid four or five taels of silver under the scripture box; I secretly saw him hide it! Dad told me to keep quiet, but who am I? I’m your own daughter!”

Inside the thatched hut, there was an immediate clatter and hurried sounds of rummaging through boxes and overturning furniture.

The white-robed monk looked up at the sky, his face etched with sorrow.

If an outsider didn't know the reason, they would surely marvel at his solemn, compassionate expression, like that of a Buddha pitying the world's suffering.

When the two women, one large and one small, emerged from the thatched hut, the white-robed monk stood up, stroking his bald head, and asked with concern, “It’s so sunny, do you need an umbrella?”

His wife thought for a moment, then waved her hand with a grand gesture, saying heroically, “Fine rouge is a rare commodity! There definitely isn’t much stock. What if we miss it?”

Li Dongxi had already begun issuing orders: “Stupid Nanbei, go get the umbrella from inside, then hurry and catch up with us! Qingxin and Yu Fu, Wudang Mountain is your territory. Are there any shortcuts to Yuqing Temple? If so, lead the way!”

The young Taoist Qingxin, who now admired the female martial artist Li Dongxi immensely, puffed out his chest and proudly declared, “Yes!”

And so, the group marched grandly towards Yuqing Temple. The white-robed monk, still watching their retreating figures, did not forget to remind them, “The small path is difficult; walk slowly.”

Perhaps feeling the atmosphere was a bit awkward, the white-robed monk sat back down on his small stool and looked at Bai Yu, casually bringing up a new topic, “I heard Mr. White Lotus has ‘three fears and two joys’?”

Bai Yu nodded, “Yes, three fears: fearing thunder, fearing walking, and fearing Zhao Ningshen’s questions. Two joys: reading to a thrilling part, and conversing to a profound point.”

The white-robed monk asked, puzzled, “Zhao Ningshen?”

Bai Yu said with some emotion, “His original name was Zhao Jingsi. He’s the old Abbot’s only son, exceptionally simple and composed by nature. After descending the mountain, he endured many hardships, but misfortune turned to blessing, and now his heart is almost one with the Great Dao.”

The white-robed monk gave an “oh.” “Wasn’t that the young Taoist priest who summoned the patriarch of the Heavenly Master’s Residence onto Spring God Lake? And then Xu Fengnian’s manifestation of Emperor Zhenwu slapped him to pieces?”

Bai Yu offered a bitter, wordless smile.

The white-robed monk seemed to hold a deep prejudice against the young feudal prince, huffing, “Fighting is one thing, but resorting to theatrics, how is that different from a child crying home to their elders for help? Especially that Xu Fengnian, he’s even more outrageous, bullying others and lacking decorum!”

Bai Yu, who was now considered a “vassal” of the Xu family in Beiliang, wisely remained silent.

The white-robed monk grumbled, “My daughter never comes to complain to me. Every time she acts, don’t those little bald monks cry and run back to their masters?”

Han Gui smiled knowingly, seemingly recalling his own disciple, Qingxin, and also the young Taoist Yu Fu, whom Abbot Li Yufu had brought back to the mountain.

Those beyond the mundane world are not necessarily without emotion.

Just then, Qi Xianxia, the only one of the three Taoists who cultivated martial power, suddenly stood up and turned around, as if facing a formidable enemy.

The white-robed monk remained calmly seated on his small stool, slowly twirling his prayer beads.

A man with slightly frosted temples appeared in their view, his hands empty.

He smiled and said, “Since ‘Inch-Square Thunder,’ I’ve comprehended two more blade techniques in the past twenty years. I wished to spar with two individuals, but Wang Xianzhi is now dead, so I can only bother you here.”

Li Dangxin slowly stood up and said calmly, “My wife isn’t here, so act quickly. But let’s be clear beforehand: whether it’s a sparring match or a fight to the death, don’t destroy the thatched hut. Otherwise, I’ll truly get angry.”