…down the mountain and into the woods, finding a large man with a square head, and ordering him… "Strip him naked and put his clothes on." He swept his left palm across the top of his head; his short hair fluttered down, his bald scalp gleamed, and his entire demeanor shifted, becoming fierce and rugged—a perfect image of a bald brigand. He emerged from the woods and headed toward Wohu Temple.

Halfway there, he suddenly encountered a man approaching head-on, followed by several large fellows. The area on either side was empty, offering no place to hide.

Li Muchen braced himself, forcing his feet onward, meeting this group, and inwardly lamenting his fate. The man leading the group was about twenty, dressed in a gray robe, with a face as refined as jade, clear eyes, and red lips and white teeth—a handsome scholar of elegant bearing.

Li Muchen recognized him; it was this man who had first led him into Wohu Temple. This person was deeply calculating, hiding a knife behind a smile, capable of killing without leaving a trace.

As they drew near, Li Muchen bowed deeply, hiding his face and revealing only his bare scalp. The handsome youth nodded lightly and drifted past without pausing.

Li Muchen let out a breath of relief. After taking two steps, a shout came from behind: "Brother, stay your steps!" Li Muchen’s body froze.

He sighed inwardly, slowly turned, and put on a smile. "It's you?!" The handsome youth started, pointing at Li Muchen in surprise.

"It is I." Li Muchen nodded with a smile, putting his palms together in greeting: "Has the benefactor been well?" "Please follow me!" The handsome youth glanced around, beckoned, turned sharply, and headed straight for Wohu Temple. Li Muchen smiled, curious whether the youth was planning some trick or if he genuinely needed something.

He followed, and the two arrived before Wohu Temple. "You all wait outside." The handsome youth stopped at the courtyard gate and waved a hand.

The large fellows halted, standing motionless, eyes straight ahead, paying Li Muchen no mind. Entering the courtyard, Wohu Temple was as before—incense spiraled, refreshing the air, and the surroundings were utterly quiet, save for the faint, almost imperceptible sounds of screaming from below.

The two stood in the courtyard. He turned and asked, "What is the master’s Dharma name?" Li Muchen stroked the small pagoda at the foot of the steps and smiled faintly: "The Dharma name is merely an outward guise, why bother with it?

Brother, what business brings you to summon me here?" The handsome youth offered a wry smile and asked no further. After a moment of thought, he looked up, fixing his gaze on Li Muchen: "You killed the First Chieftain, didn't you?" Li Muchen nodded: "Indeed.

Luckily, he was an obstacle!" "Well killed!" The handsome youth growled, clenching his fists until his face flushed red. He took a deep breath, composing himself, his eyes shining with excitement: "It wasn't uncommon for the First Chieftain to be gone for several days; we weren't worried.

But this time, I had a feeling... the First Chieftain is dead." "Did you have a grudge against him?" Li Muchen smiled.

"The blood debt of a father—unforgivable!" The handsome youth said slowly, grinding his teeth. Li Muchen said lightly: "The bald brigands often kill and wipe out families; it’s common, not just yours." He trusted his martial brothers and kin, giving them his heart and soul, but he found it difficult to trust outsiders.

Knowing the ways of the world and seeing clearly into people's hearts, he understood the treacherous nature of humanity deeply. "I never went down the mountain to kill!" The handsome youth declared loudly.

Li Muchen smiled and turned: "I returned to Wohu Mountain hoping to find the First Chieftain’s martial arts manual. Do you know anything about it?" "Martial arts manual?" The handsome youth frowned.

After thinking, he shook his head: "I’ve never seen one." "Why was he expelled from Lantuo Temple?" Li Muchen changed the subject. The handsome youth replied: "His vital energy was too strong; he killed a fellow disciple over a trivial matter." The handsome youth readily agreed: "Good!" The two entered Wohu Temple and searched around.

The main hall contained a Buddha statue that looked fierce and menacing. Before the censer was a meditation cushion, and nothing else; there was nothing to search, it was all in plain sight.

He dismantled the cushion but found nothing unusual. He then entered the inner sleeping quarters.

The bedroom was equally sparse: a bed and a desk. On the bed was only a cushion, no bedding.

He tore the cushion apart, finding nothing. On the desk were a few books, and a lacquer-black Buddha statue placed in a peculiar, fixed posture, its appearance similar to the statue outside.

He flipped through the books on the desk; they were several Buddhist scriptures, which he promptly tucked into his robes. Surveying the surroundings, he shook his head with a sigh of deep disappointment.

The handsome youth hurried to explain: "The First Chieftain sat in meditation all day, doing nothing else. He was obsessed with returning to Lantuo Temple and defeating them...

Occasionally, he would go down the mountain to kill people, saying it was to relax." Li Muchen nodded. From the simplicity of the furnishings, he could tell the First Chieftain was ascetic and single-minded in his training—a pity, as such a person failed to walk the righteous path.

His gaze swept around, finally landing on the handsome youth. The handsome youth managed a bitter smile, shaking his head: "I have never seen any manual, nor have I ever hidden one!" Then he added, "But I suppose you won't believe me?" Li Muchen smiled and said in a gentle voice, "I still don't know your esteemed name." "Wen Zhenglang!" The handsome youth bowed with a wry smile.

Li Muchen nodded, turned, and said: "Since there is none, let it go!" Although he desperately desired the Jinwang Finger technique, he had not obtained it. It was a loss, but he quickly dismissed it.

Things in the world happen due to karmic confluence; one cannot force destiny. Moreover, his senses were acute, and after probing subtly, he knew Wen Zhenglang was not lying.

He had anticipated returning empty-handed. The Jinwang Finger was Lantuo Temple’s supreme technique; how could its manual be casually left outside the monastery?

The First Chieftain most likely didn't have the manual. But as long as there was a sliver of hope, he had to try.

Now that it was truly absent, he could only give up. As he was about to leave, Li Muchen casually picked up the black Buddha statue from the desk.

This statue was ferocious and terrifying, quite unusual. He felt something was odd about it, though he couldn't discern what.

Li Muchen trusted his intuition, so he took it away—better than nothing. He secretly mocked himself; this was what they called a thief not leaving empty-handed!

The two left the temple. The dozen or so bald fellows stood perfectly still, silent and still, completely ignoring the screams drifting up from the valley floor.

Li Muchen asked: "Young Master Wen, what are your plans?" Wen Zhenglang shook his head, looking at the setting sun with a bewildered expression. He had stayed on Wohu Mountain solely for revenge for his father’s murder.

Now that vengeance was served, his heart felt hollow. He didn't know how to proceed.

Li Muchen said gently: "Let’s go down the mountain. After descending, start anew." "I..." Wen Zhenglang hesitated.

Abruptly leaving a familiar environment to start over, though possessing wisdom and a resilient nature, he still felt a surge of fear and indecision. Li Muchen said sternly: "The First Chieftain is dead.

The bald brigands will be destroyed sooner or later. If you don't leave now, the peril of death is not far off." "Good, let’s go down!" Wen Zhenglang nodded forcefully.

Just as the two were about to descend, a long, piercing cry suddenly echoed. The cry was like rolling spring thunder, booming as it approached, slow and heavy.

Everyone’s ears went numb, their blood and qi surging violently, rendering them unable to fight. When the cry began, the person was still far away; when it stopped, the person had already arrived at the foot of the mountain.

This individual’s lightness skill was extraordinary. Li Muchen frowned slightly; this person’s internal power was far beyond his own.

He turned to look at Wen Zhenglang, who shook his head in confusion. The two arrived at the entrance to the mountain steps.

Below, twenty-odd people were locked in fierce combat. The rest of the men were either lying on the bluestone steps or had already disappeared.

Bloodstains marked the stone walls flanking the stairs, indicating extreme carnage. At this moment, a streak of reddish smoke drifted up the stone path.

In the blink of an eye, it reached the mountainside, right where the two factions were fighting. It suddenly stopped, and the true form was revealed.

It was a young monk, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, wearing a dull red cassock. His sword-like eyebrows slanted sharply upwards, his nose was high and straight, and his slightly swollen eyes exuded an aura of imposing might.

He put his palms together in greeting: "Amitabha!" Everyone present shuddered. Those four words carried immense internal energy, like a clap of thunder, shaking the blood and qi of all present.

"Master, who are you?" Li Jixian asked, his hair disheveled, his eyes bloodshot. "I dare not claim the title of Master; I am Xinjue." The young monk kept a blank expression, his hands clasped, his eyelids drooping.

He spoke slowly: "Heaven cherishes life. Esteemed patrons, cease this slaughter!" "Master Xinjue, how can the debt of a son's murder go unavenged?" Li Jixian sighed hoarsely, then sneered: "Unless you hand over the people from the Mei Manor!" "You fool!

What is this talk of Mei Manor? There isn't a single person named Mei on our Wohu Mountain," the stout, broad-shouldered man roared, slamming his long staff down.

Li Jixian sneered: "If you won't believe me, search the mountain!" "Spit out your mother's dog-stinking lies!" The burly man cursed furiously, and in his agitated state, he brandished his staff: "Come! Let’s fight another three hundred rounds!" "Amitabha!" The monk Xinjue recited the Buddhist phrase again, the force of it causing everyone’s blood and qi to churn so violently they could barely speak.

His gaze, sharp as a blade, swept slowly over the crowd, finally resting on the Second Chieftain. He said slowly: "I hear you have a Wohu Temple on your mountain.

Is there a monk residing there?" The Second Chieftain’s heart tightened. He felt the monk Xinjue’s gaze was calm, so calm it was eerie, seemingly devoid of any human emotion, sending a chill down his spine.

He took a breath, composing himself, and replied: "Does Master seek our First Chieftain?" "The First Chieftain?" The monk Xinjue pondered, then nodded: "Does your First Chieftain know the Vajra Finger technique?" "Our First Chieftain knows the Jinwang Finger!" The Second Chieftain nodded, hesitating slightly before asking: "Is Master from Lantuo Temple?" The monk Xinjue nodded, a faint smile appearing, and said slowly: "Senior Brother Xinwu is indeed here!" "Master, the First Chieftain hasn't returned for a long time. I fear..." The Second Chieftain quickly began.

The monk Xinjue raised his sword-like eyebrows: "Fear what?" "I fear..." The Second Chieftain swallowed hard. "...that he has met with misfortune!" The monk Xinjue stared at him unblinkingly, his face impassive.

The Second Chieftain felt a chill course through him and quickly said: "The First Chieftain went after a young monk and never returned. Even if I had the audacity of ten thousand bears, I would not dare lie to Master!" "Up the mountain!" The monk Xinjue said lightly, transforming into a wisp of light smoke, arriving on the mountain in the blink of an eye.

After he vanished, everyone present let out a collective sigh of relief, as if a great weight had been lifted from their hearts. If you wish to know what happens next, please log on to [website address], more chapters are available, support the author, support genuine reading!D

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