The Reticent Blade
Chapter 328 - A Monk and a Bun

Chapter 328 - A Monk and a Bun

Xue Yinlong’s shameless response stunned Zhang Dongyun and his five brothers. But after that brief moment of shock, they immediately erupted into a barrage of curses.

"Bullshit, you bastard!"

"Despicable bald donkey!"

"Shameless! How can you call yourself a monk?!"

Zhang Dongyun’s veins throbbed with fury..

"I never expected the so-called Sky-supporting Arhat, Xue Yinlong, to be this shameless! You actually dare to spout such self-deceiving nonsense? And you still have the gall to chant sutras before the Buddha?!"

The old monk remained expressionless.

"As a humble monk, I know well the weight of the sins I have committed in my early years. The previous abbot took pity on me, personally shaved my head, and granted me the Dharma name Zhishan, hoping that I would learn to distinguish good from evil, right from wrong.

"Thus, I now recite scriptures before the Buddha day and night, seeking to bring peace to the departed souls and cleanse my past transgressions. Your elder brother, naturally, is among those I have been praying for."

"And just because you say you've given him peace, we're supposed to believe you?" The crowd refused to accept his reasoning and started cursing again. "You killed a man! And now you think a few sutras will erase that crime?!"

"And you call yourself Zhishan? Pah! You don't deserve that name!"

"A life for a life!"

"That’s right! Xue Yinlong, you little wretch—why don’t you stretch out your neck and accept your fate?!"

Zhang Dongyun and his men hurled accusations one after another, their voices overlapping, leaving Xue Yinlong no chance to respond.

Standing off to the side, Xue Qiming saw everything clearly. The old monk’s fingers, which had been calmly rolling his prayer beads, were now moving noticeably faster.

The old monk is angry, Xue Qiming thought.

Sure enough, just as the six aggressors were arguing so fiercely that they drowned each other out, Xue Yinlong took a deep breath and bellowed, "The greatest sound is silence—!"

His thunderous voice carried an immense force of internal qi. The forests in the mountains trembled from the shockwave, branches quivering as startled birds took flight. The sound traveled farther and farther, reaching all the way to Hongfeng Town at the mountain’s base.

Xue Yinlong was not yet finished.

"I said their souls have been delivered, so they have been delivered!"

His voice rang out like a great bronze bell.

Down in Hongfeng Town, the townsfolk all looked up towards the direction of the Lesser Arhat Temple, wondering what was going on.

The six men who confronted him fared even worse. From the very first phrase, their clothes split apart at the seams, and the pressure of the soundwave made it impossible for them to keep their eyes open. Their bodies trembled uncontrollably, and their footing was unsteady. By the time Xue Yinlong shouted for the second time, their clothes burst apart as they were flung backward through the air. The six men careened through the air until they crashed down at the edge of the distant forest.

With that, the matter was settled. Xue Qiming ultimately chose to stay. With the proof before his eyes, he truly believed that the old monk knew martial arts—and not just any martial arts, but the kind that was absolutely formidable.

Later, Xue Qiming asked the old monk about the technique he had used that day—"The Greatest Sound is Silence."

"What does 'The Greatest Sound is Silence' mean?" Xue Qiming asked.

The old monk paused in thought before answering, "Hmm... It means... well... as long as you’re loud enough, no one else can beat you in an argument."

Xue Qiming’s eyes sparkled with admiration. "Damn, that’s awesome!"

Xue Yinlong reached into his robes and pulled out a yellowed ancient book. Tossing it to Xue Qiming, he said, "So you wanted to learn martial arts, huh? Take it."

Xue Qiming was momentarily stunned but then overjoyed. He ran his hands over the words on the cover, his whole body trembling with excitement. "This... this is...!"

Xue Yinlong grinned. "This is an absolute top-tier martial art. Normally, I would not share it with outsiders."

"Holy shit! A supreme martial art!" Xue Qiming was so excited he could barely form a coherent sentence. "What in the—I, Unbound Third Master, am going to become a martial arts expert!"

Xue Yinlong laughed heartily. "This technique is no joke. They say that if you master it to perfection, you can lift yourself off the ground by grabbing your own hair."

"That miraculous?!" Xue Qiming held the book as if it were his most treasured possession. "Then what did you mean when you said you wouldn't pass it down?"

Xue Yinlong chuckled. "You can pass it down if you want... but you’d only be bringing harm to others. This technique requires an extremely strong physique—if you don’t have an iron body and steel sinews, you can’t cultivate it.

"Forcing yourself to practice it? The deeper you go, the closer you are to death. Those medicinal baths I had you soak in for months? They were to strengthen your foundation. You're naturally gifted in this regard. Otherwise, you could soak for a lifetime and still never be able to learn it."

"So... I can start practicing now?" Xue Qiming asked hopefully.

Xue Yinlong nodded. "Go ahead. Your body is now as tough as iron—do whatever you like. You'll have officially completed your training when you can lift the gourd in the front yard."

Xue Qiming spent his winters training through the bitter cold and summers training through the blistering heat; years flew by like migrating geese.

For the first two years of training, Xue Qiming had many questions, and the old monk patiently answered them all. By the third year, he had completely mastered everything in the book.

Xue Qiming never once called the old monk his Master. In his mind, the old monk was just a monk. If Xue Qiming ever acknowledged the fake monk as his Master, wouldn't that make him a little monk then? He had no desire to be a monk.

The old monk was truly aging. For people in the Ruen Dynasty, living past eighty was already a hallmark of a long life. Perhaps his martial skills had helped prolong his life, but physical decline was something no one could escape.

Starting from Xue Qiming’s third year on the mountain, the responsibility of going down to town for supplies fell to him. The old monk grew increasingly drowsy, always murmuring about how tired he was, unwilling to walk even a few extra steps.

After four years of training, Xue Qiming could finally lift that ugly gourd in the front yard with one hand. It took considerable effort, but he managed to bring it over to the old monk, who sat cross-legged on his meditation cushion before the Buddha statue. The old man gave him only a casual glance before nodding.

"Acceptable. I thought you would have lifted it within three years."

Xue Qiming grinned. "Bald old donkey, let’s test our strength again, shall we?"

The old monk lowered his head, rolling his prayer beads through his fingers. "The temple is running low on incense and candles. Go buy some from town."

"Oh..."

Returning to Hongfeng Town, Xue Qiming stopped by the familiar bun shop to buy two buns, but the shopkeeper had changed. The previous owner's son, a boy about the same age as Xue Qiming, was now running the shop.

The young shopkeeper greeted him. "Brother Xue, here to buy incense again?"

Xue Qiming nodded. "That old monk never thinks to buy extra. I have to make this trip every month."

The young shopkeeper chuckled, his smile exactly like his father’s from years ago. "Is Master Zhishan doing well?"

Xue Qiming curled his lips. "Too well. He eats and drinks like a king. I'm sick of looking after him."

At that moment, a filthy little hand suddenly darted from the alley, reaching for the open steamer.

"Not again!" the shopkeeper roared, slamming the steamer lid shut. "I’m gonna beat you up, you little thief!"

The small beggar who got caught yelped in fear, tears welling up instantly.

Xue Qiming froze for a moment.

The shopkeeper grabbed the beggar’s ear, shaking his head as he explained to Xue Qiming, "These little brats wander the streets all day. Stealing is bad enough, but now they’ve got the guts to snatch food in broad daylight..."

Xue Qiming silently took one of his two buns and handed it to the little beggar. "Go on." Then, ignoring the shopkeeper’s complaints, he walked away.

It was noon by the time he finished his errands and returned to the temple.

As he stepped into the front courtyard, he found the old monk still seated on his meditation cushion before the Buddha. The incense in the censer before him had burned down to nothing.

Xue Qiming casually placed the roast chicken he had brought on the stone table in the courtyard. "I ran into something funny in town today. Remember how you tricked me into coming up this mountain? I saw a little beggar snatching a bun today, from that very bun shop..."

The old monk did not respond.

Xue Qiming paused, then turned toward the worship hall.

The old monk sat with his back facing him, hands resting on his knees, prayer beads dangling to the floor.

After a heavy moment, Xue Qiming finally stepped forward into the hall.

The old monk’s eyes were closed, his lips still curved in a faint smile. His face was peaceful—as if he had simply fallen asleep.

Xue Qiming exhaled softly and slowly.

He placed the remaining bun on the ground before the old monk.

Then, he sat down beside him, crossing his legs.

Xue Qiming gazed up at the worn Buddha statue. He suddenly realized that it was possible the old monk had sent him to town every month just because he wanted to eat those buns.

I wonder if there are buns in the Pure Lands.