Chapter Twenty-Eight of the Ten Scenes Satin

A few days later, the group crossed the Yangtze River and entered Anhui Province, arriving at the foot of Mount Jiuhua. Mount Jiuhua is a famous Buddhist mountain, known as the "Buddhist Kingdom and Immortal City," with temples scattered throughout the mountain and exquisite scenery, its peaks vying for beauty. The group had now switched to horses, enjoying the scenery as they traveled, their hearts filled with peace.

As they were traveling, they saw a group of monks sitting upright on the ground ahead, lined up in a row, blocking their path. Hua Xuan, seeing them from afar, said, "Brother Wen, look! Why are there so many monks ahead?" Little Murong laughed, "The monks aren't chanting scriptures on the mountain; they've come down here to meditate." Wen Yuan asked, "Could they be subordinates of the Jingwei Prince's Mansion?" Zi Yuan frowned slightly and whispered, "Young Master Wen, should we change our route?" Wen Yuan smiled and said, "Since they're waiting here, taking a detour won't help. Let's just push our way through."

Little Murong stuck out her tongue and laughed, "First we fight Taoists, then we run into monks. Do you think we can win?"

As she spoke, they were already very close to the group of monks. The monks all stood up, and two of them stepped forward, clearly showing no intention of making way.

Wen Yuan cupped his hands and smiled, "Masters, please allow me passage." One of the monks, an older one, clasped his hands together and said, "This benefactor, is your surname Wen?" Wen Yuan replied, "Indeed." The older monk exchanged a glance with the other middle-aged monk and said, "I have been entrusted by someone to invite Benefactor Wen to our temple. It's not far ahead. Please follow me."

Wen Yuan noticed the shifty look in the middle-aged monk's eyes and knew something was amiss. He said, "The one who asked you to invite me, Master, could it be the Prince Zhao of the Jingwei Prince's Mansion?" The older monk's beard twitched as he stared at Wen Yuan and said, "Since Benefactor Wen already knows, it's not good to hide it. As long as this Zi Yuan benefactor stays, I won't make things difficult for you."

Little Murong scolded, "You are supposed to be in the Buddhist order, yet you are so shameless! Isn't this a violation of the precept against lust?" The middle-aged monk shouted, "We are acting under orders, we can't concern ourselves with such things!" He stepped forward, suddenly leaped up, and threw a punch at the top of Wen Yuan's head.

The punch was powerful and fierce. Wen Yuan didn't want to meet it head-on, so he flipped to the left and landed lightly. The old monk shouted, "Attack!" The monks, some wielding clubs and others holding knives, rushed forward all at once.

Wen Yuan cried out, "Junior sister, protect Miss Zi Yuan!" He dodged two punches from the middle-aged monk, drew his sword, and counterattacked. More than thirty monks surged forward like a tide, immediately surrounding Wen Yuan, while several more monks charged towards Zi Yuan, Hua Xuan, and the others.

Hua Xuan brandished her silver whip, forcing back the attacking monks one by one. She felt that their skills were mediocre, and with a few casual lashes, six monks had already fallen to the ground. Seeing that the monks' martial arts were mediocre, with only the old monk and the middle-aged monk being difficult to deal with, and fearing for Wen Yuan's safety, Xiao Murong drew his short sword and nimbly darted into the group. He swayed left and right, closing in behind the old monk, thrusting his sword forward and shouting, "Bald monk, take this!"

The two monks were locked in a fierce attack on Wen Yuan when Xiao Murong's sword arrived. The old monk had no choice but to block, sidestepping and swinging his arm. Suddenly, a cloud of red smoke swept towards Xiao Murong's right arm. Xiao Murong dodged, clearly seeing it was a large red kasaya (Buddhist robe). The

old monk let out a low shout and began to wield the kasaya, the wind howling fiercely, its power surprisingly formidable. Xiao Murong thrust his sword, but the kasaya, woven from some unknown material, was incredibly slippery and resilient, and he couldn't pierce it. Xiao Murong was startled. The robe suddenly shifted its position, descending directly over her head. She quickly dodged, thinking, "What kind of strange skill is this?"

Both monks were skilled fighters from the Imperial Mausoleum Sect. The older monk's Dharma name was Jiancheng, and the middle-aged monk was his junior brother, whose Dharma name was Jianzeng.

The two monks were originally bandits in the area. Later, they joined the Imperial Mausoleum Sect, shaved their heads to become monks to avoid attention, and lived in seclusion in Mount Jiuhua, leading a group of monks. They did not practice Buddhism, occupied a temple as their base, colluded with the government, and committed all sorts of illegal acts. This day, they received orders from the heir of the Jingwei Prince's Mansion to intercept Wen Yuan and his group. After discovering their route, they led their men to intercept them.

Jiancheng's robe-wearing skill was originally a soft whip martial art, but after becoming a monk, he used the robe as a weapon, capable of both covering and wrapping, making it even more unpredictable. Seeing his strange moves, Xiao Murong wondered what was so strange about them, and immediately wandered around, without a fixed place, engaging him in a game of cat and mouse.

Over there, Jianzeng also drew his weapon—a large string of finely forged steel prayer beads, extremely heavy, clearly indicating his immense arm strength. His moves followed the style of a soft whip, but the prayer beads formed a circle, adding another layer of power. Wen Yuan, wielding his sword, held his own.

Suddenly, Jianzeng roared, swinging his prayer beads directly at Wen Yuan's sword. Wen Yuan parried, and suddenly the prayer beads spun around, seemingly encircling the blade. Jianzeng shouted, twisting his arm, and the prayer beads abruptly locked in a series of rings, clanging and clattering as dozens of iron beads firmly gripped the sword, the blade wedged between the beads.

Wen Yuan was startled, thinking, "Good heavens, these prayer beads can be used like this!" Jianzeng

was overjoyed, pulling the prayer beads with his right hand while slashing out with his left. Wen Yuan's mind raced; he released his sword, ducked, and swept his right leg across Jianzeng's shin. Seeing that the longsword was still wrapped in the prayer beads, Jianzeng's kick aimed straight at Wen Yuan. With a loud "bang," half of the prayer beads crashed to the ground, sending dust flying. The longsword was instantly severed by the tightly packed iron beads. However, Wen Yuan's aim was extremely precise. The kick veered off course, missing its target. As soon as the prayer beads hit the ground, Wen Yuan's left leg followed through, striking with lightning speed. The force of Wen Yuan's kick shattered Jianzeng's right shinbone. Jianzeng

collapsed to the ground in excruciating pain. Enraged, he swung the prayer beads wildly, sending a shower of sword fragments flying like countless hidden weapons. Wen Yuan rolled away, leaping to his feet and dodging all the attacks. He thought to himself, "His leg is broken. As long as I guard against his prayer bead attacks, he's nothing to fear!"

Wen Yuan's agility was superior to Jian Zeng's, but now Jian Zeng couldn't get up. Wen Yuan surrounded him, unleashing a barrage of palm strikes, leaving him only able to parry. Coupled with the excruciating pain in his leg, he became enraged and, in a fit of rage, poured all his power into his prayer beads, which he then flung at Wen Yuan.

The force of this throw was astonishing. The 108 beads danced rapidly in a ring, like a whirlwind and a roar, hurtling towards him with a deafening sound. Seeing the ferocity of the attack, Wen Yuan couldn't take it head-on. In desperation, he performed a backbend, leaning backward sharply.

A ring flashed past his face in an instant, the wind billowing through his sleeves. A muffled thud followed by a bloodcurdling scream, piercingly shrill. Wen Yuan was startled and stood up to look back, only to see that Jian Cheng had taken the blow. The hundred and eight prayer beads spun rapidly like lightning, striking his back repeatedly, causing him to cough up blood and fall to the ground dead.

Xiao Murong was also startled. He had seen Jian Cheng wield his cassock, creating what seemed like layers of barriers around him, deflecting any sword tips that touched him. He was at a loss for what to do, but Jian Cheng's desperate attack was too powerful. It didn't hit Wen Yuan, but it shattered the protective barrier of the cassock. With Jian Cheng's skill, he should have been able to sense the prayer beads flying towards him, but the sound of the cassock hindered his ability to pinpoint their location. By the time the prayer beads were close enough to pierce the air, it was too late. Although he was not afraid of Xiao Murong's short sword, he never expected to die by the blade of his own.

Seeing that the monk was greatly alarmed and struggled to get up, Xiao Murong swiftly stepped forward and whispered, "Namo Amitabha Buddha, please go to the Western Paradise to return to your place!" Seeing that the monk was exhausted and unable to resist, he raised his sword and followed his senior brother.

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Chapter Twenty-Eight of the Ten Scenes Satin

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