Killing Monks

Chu Kuangjun's master lived in a small county town by the Yangtze River.

The county town is small and has a simple name: Jiangbei County.

Following the directions given by Chu Kuangjun, Guangyuan searched all the way to the outskirts of the county town. He walked downstream along the riverbank for two or three miles and saw several people scattered along the riverbank, guarding their fishing rods.

Some were squatting, some were standing; they were all ordinary anglers.

Only one old man stood out conspicuously.

He lay reclining on a warm bluestone, his bamboo hat askew, obscuring half his face.

The fishing rod was casually stuck in the crack of the rock, the fishing line dangling in the water, the float motionless, and he didn't even glance at it.

Guangyuan stepped forward and stood by the stone.

"Excuse me, sir. May I ask how much fish you caught?"

The old man, who had been languid, suddenly sat up when he heard someone ask about the fish catch. He pushed his bamboo hat back, revealing two bright eyes.

"Today's catch..." He cleared his throat and gestured with his hand, "Two two-foot-long carp. Five one-foot-long grass carp. As for the palm-sized crucian carp, there are countless."

He spoke with such conviction, as if the fish basket truly contained those things.

He paused, then waved his hand dismissively, saying in a nonchalant tone, "As for those small fry, I never fish for them. It's pointless."

Guangyuan smiled slightly.

"Old man, your fishing skills are excellent; you must be a master angler?"

"Of course!" The old man slapped his thigh and raised his chin slightly.

Guangyuan tiptoed and peeked into the fish basket next to him.

The fish basket was completely empty, upside down, without even a single fish scale.

"But..." Guangyuan withdrew his gaze and asked in confusion, "There don't seem to be that many fish in your old man's fish basket."

The old man remained unfazed, and even leaned closer to the rock, making himself more comfortable.

"Sigh~" He sighed deeply, "Heaven cherishes life. I fish because I love fishing, not to eat fish."

"Those fish, once caught, are handled and then released back."

He looked up at the great river, his gaze distant, and said in a deep voice, "So that one day I won't fish all the fish out of this great river."

Finally, he turned to look at Guangyuan, his expression serious, as if he were genuinely worried about the fish in the entire river.

Guangyuan was stunned for a moment, then revealed a perfectly timed expression of shock.

"As expected!" He bowed slightly, "Truly worthy of being called the Fishing Saint."

The old man's eyelid twitched.

"The Saint of Fishing?"

Guangyuan straightened up, his expression sincere: "That's right. I made a friend in the martial arts world named Chu Kuangjun. He mentioned his master, who is known in the martial arts world as the 'Fishing Saint'."

"At first I didn't believe it, thinking my friend was exaggerating. But seeing it today, I know my friend was right!"

"No, not only is it not an exaggeration, but it's actually too modest."

As he spoke, he solemnly bowed.

"Junior Guangyuan pays respects to the Fishing Saint."

The old man opened his mouth, but for a moment he didn't know what to say.

He's seen a lot of storms in his life, what kind of situation hasn't he experienced?

Even though he was praised as a "fishing saint" to his face, he couldn't help but feel a little hot in his face.

But then I thought about it again, and it was his apprentice who made the boast, not him.

He quickly felt at ease.

"That kid," he narrowed his eyes, a smirk involuntarily creeping onto his lips, "really said that?"

"Absolutely true." Guangyuan said solemnly, "More real than real gold."

The old man finally couldn't hold back any longer, threw his head back and burst into hearty laughter.

"Good disciple! Good disciple!" He slapped his thigh and jumped up from the rock. "My years of teaching have not been in vain!"

As he bent down to gather the scattered fishing gear, he waved to Guangyuan.

"I am Ren Shan. Since you are Junzai's friend, you are no stranger to us. Come on, let's go to the restaurant in town and have a couple of drinks!"

He tucked the fishing rod under his arm, casually picked up the fish basket, and strode towards the town.

After taking a couple of steps, he turned back and added, "Let's have a good chat on the way. How did you two meet?"

Guangyuan followed, recounting how he met Chu Kuangjun as they walked.

From the entanglement with the two from the Mitian Sect, to meeting Lu Fei in Luoqing County, and then going together to the Lu residence to witness the Lu family's machinations, the story eventually led to the mention of the old Taoist priest.

"The Way of Heaven?" Ren Shan frowned, his hand holding the wine jug pausing. "That old codger isn't dead yet?"

The two were now sitting in a small tavern in town.

Two jugs of cloudy wine, a few small dishes, the wind blowing across the great river outside the window, and the faint aroma of wine inside.

Guangyuan nodded: "I heard from that old Taoist that he had fought with the senior several times."

"More than just a few times." Ren Shan picked up his wine glass, clinked it with Guang Yuan's, and downed it in one gulp. "I've beaten him up countless times before."

"Why fight?"

"That old Taoist priest loves to meddle in other people's business." Ren Shan clicked his tongue, put the empty cup on the table, "So that's why."

Guangyuan didn't ask for details, but simply followed the conversation and said, "If that old Taoist were here, I might be able to get involved in the Lu family's affairs."

"How do you know they don't have a backup plan?" Ren Shan glanced at him. "These people in the martial arts world always think three steps ahead before acting. It's incredibly annoying!"

He picked up a piece of food with his chopsticks, chewed it, and said, "Back then, I just couldn't stand those old bastards, always talking about chess and strategy! Wasn't it annoying?"

"So, I just led my men and stabbed them to death, ending it all."

Guangyuan raised his glass and listened quietly.

When Ren Shan talked about his experiences in the martial arts world, he spoke as casually as if he were telling someone else's story.

He leads a bunch of henchmen to cause trouble everywhere. If they don't like someone, they go to their door and beat them up. If they beat them into submission, they leave. If they don't, they come back again.

He got so excited talking that he started gesturing wildly, spilling a few drops of wine.

As Guangyuan listened, he suddenly spoke up.

"So, senior, you are the long-lost leader of the Mitian Sect, right?"

Ren Shan was taken aback.

The chopsticks stopped in mid-air.

Then he smiled.

There was no surprise or wariness in that smile; instead, it carried a hint of satisfaction, as if to say, "You finally guessed it."

"Since you're friends with Junzai, you must have guessed it." He put his chopsticks on the table and said frankly, "That's right, I am."

He did not hide anything.

There's no need to hide it.

The once fearsome leader of the Mitian Sect, who inspired terror thirty years ago, is now just a lazy old man fishing and boasting by the river. What's there to hide?

"Why you left the Mitian Sect, senior, is something I don't want to know." Guangyuan put down his wine cup, his expression becoming more serious. "The real reason I've come to visit you today is to ask you a question: Where did the Mitian Scripture come from?"

Ren Shan frowned slightly.

"You believe in the Mitian Cult?"

Guangyuan shook his head and answered decisively, "This junior does not believe it."

Ren Shan's brows relaxed, and his complexion improved. He picked up the wine pot, filled his own cup, and then filled Guangyuan's as well.

"That 'Mitian Sutra' was all made up by us, the leaders of the cult."

"Especially my master, that old bastard, he made up the most stories."

Ren Shan slammed his wine glass on the table, his tone tinged with disdain: "Believe in that? You've got it for life."