Chapter Fifty-Seven: Shaolin Temple on Mount Song

Shaolin Temple is located on Mount Song, not far from the Songshan Sect. However, in terms of influence, Shaolin Temple is undoubtedly the more formidable of the two; its profound foundation is not something the Songshan Sect could ever hope to shake.

Yang Wenhao and Dongfang the Invincible arrived at the gates of Shaolin Temple on Mount Song. Just as they were about to ascend the stone steps, a bald monk approached to greet them.

"Gentlemen," the monk said, bowing respectfully.

Yang Wenhao returned the gesture. "I am Yang Wenhao from the martial world, here to pay my respects to Master Fangzheng."

"Ah, so it is Benefactor Yang. Please, follow me. I shall send word to the abbot at once," the monk replied.

Following the monk through the mountain gate, they entered Shaolin Temple. The temple, renowned as one of the most powerful orthodox sects, exuded an aura that ordinary forces could not hope to match—this much was clear simply from its magnificent decor.

Seated in a side hall, the two guests were soon served tea by another monk.

"What is your plan for asking them?" Dongfang the Invincible sipped the tea, eyeing Yang Wenhao with great interest.

Yang Wenhao set down his cup. "I’ll ask first. If they refuse, I’ll simply take it by force."

"You think Shaolin Temple is just any place?" Dongfang scoffed. "If you can't win, you can always beg me for help. Beg me and I might lend you a hand."

"Trust me, you won’t get the chance," Yang Wenhao replied confidently.

A short while later, an elderly monk in ceremonial robes entered. His bearing was extraordinary—his presence serene, embodying the very essence of Buddhist tranquility.

"Gentlemen, I am the abbot of Shaolin, known as Fangzheng. May I ask what brings you to our temple?"

"I have long heard of Shaolin’s legendary Muscle-Tendon Transformation Classic," Yang Wenhao said. "I have come to ask for it."

"You wish to obtain the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Classic?" Master Fangzheng regarded Yang Wenhao intently. The classic was the temple’s treasured scripture—how could it be given to an outsider so easily?

"Not only the classic," Yang Wenhao continued, "I also wish to peruse the Shaolin Sutra Library."

At these words, even Dongfang the Invincible was taken aback by Yang Wenhao’s boldness. The Sutra Library was the very foundation of the sect; to allow an outsider to view it at will would undermine its claim to unique martial arts.

Throughout the martial world, none would dare make such a request to Master Fangzheng’s face—yet Yang Wenhao not only spoke it aloud but did so with perfect composure.

Master Fangzheng smiled faintly. "You jest, sir. However, should you be willing to join Shaolin Temple, what you ask would not be impossible."

"No!" Yang Wenhao had not yet answered, but Dongfang the Invincible was the first to object.

Yang Wenhao turned to Dongfang, surprised by such vehemence.

Dongfang the Invincible realized he had spoken too hastily and offered an explanation. "You are a man of the martial world, Yang Wenhao. If you become a monk, you can no longer drink or eat meat. Could you endure a life of vegetarianism?"

"You overstate the matter," Master Fangzheng replied with a gentle smile. "Benefactor Yang could become a lay disciple of Shaolin. Lay disciples are not bound by the monastic rules."

"Still no," Dongfang insisted.

Yang Wenhao found himself unable to get a word in as the two continued.

"My friend Dong, you’ve already spoken on my behalf before I even voiced my opinion," Yang Wenhao said. "What is left for me to say?"

"My answer is still no," Dongfang the Invincible replied firmly. "If necessary, I’ll help you fight your way in, and we can see whatever we want."

It was amusing—Dongfang the Invincible, who had initially scorned the idea of resorting to violence, was now the first to suggest it. Yang Wenhao was left puzzled by his companion’s thoughts.

He turned to Master Fangzheng. "My apologies, Master Fangzheng, but I will not become a monk. Not even as a lay disciple."

"In that case, I will not press the matter," the abbot said calmly.

"Then what do you propose, Master Fangzheng?" Yang Wenhao asked.

"I know you are a hero of our era," Master Fangzheng replied. "If you can break through our Eighteen Arhats and the Arhat Formation, you may view the Sutra Library."

"Truly?"

"Indeed."

"Very well."

With that, Master Fangzheng departed, leaving the two guests exchanging uncertain glances.

Dongfang the Invincible looked concerned. "Are you truly confident against the Eighteen Arhats and the Arhat Formation?"

As the leader of the Sun and Moon Cult, Dongfang the Invincible understood well the formidable power of Shaolin’s martial arts and formations. What made Shaolin strong was not individual prowess, but the synergy of their formations and exceptional techniques—several men acting as one could unleash overwhelming power.

"I don’t know. Perhaps I can, perhaps I cannot," Yang Wenhao admitted. This was his first time facing such a challenge; he had only ever heard of it before.

"Perhaps we should give up," Dongfang the Invincible suggested. "I know of another place with an abundance of martial arts manuals. I could take you there."

"Is that so?" Yang Wenhao smiled. "Then after I have seen what Shaolin has to offer, you may take me to this other place."

"Fine," Dongfang said, seeing Yang Wenhao’s determination.

The Eighteen Arhats Formation was Shaolin’s legendary defensive array, and using it against Yang Wenhao was certainly appropriate.

Yet the Eighteen Arhats were not all he would have to face—there was also the Arhat Formation, a fearsome array that, properly coordinated, could allow the weak to overcome the strong.

A young monk soon arrived. "Gentlemen, the abbot has asked me to show you to your quarters."

The challenge would take place tomorrow, so tonight, they were to stay at Shaolin Temple. Much to Yang Wenhao’s bewilderment, whether out of spite or misunderstanding, they were given only one room.

It was a guest room, meant for visitors, and so contained only one bed.

Seeing the solitary bed, Yang Wenhao was at a loss.

"What now?" he asked, gesturing at the bed.

The two of them could just barely squeeze onto it, but the thought was awkward—especially since Dongfang the Invincible was, after all...

If Yang Wenhao did anything improper in the night, he might wake up missing a limb.

Dongfang the Invincible was also stunned and immediately turned to leave. "I’ll go speak with those monks."

"Forget it," Yang Wenhao stopped him. "It’s late, and they’re all asleep."

Dongfang, embarrassed, hesitated. "But how are we supposed to sleep?"

"We squeeze in," Yang Wenhao shrugged.

"No," Dongfang said, cheeks faintly flushed. "You can sleep on the floor."

"And why should I? I’m the guest here. Why should I sleep on the floor?"

"Then if you won’t, I will."

"Fine, fine, I’ll do it. I’ll sleep on the floor, all right?"

Yang Wenhao was utterly exasperated. If he didn’t know Dongfang the Invincible was a woman, he’d have slapped him already. Sleep or don’t sleep—why so much fuss?

ps: Please vote to recommend this book. I am writing it with great care.

(End of chapter)