Chapter Twenty-Nine: My Name Is Lin Dong
Since Xiao Yan succeeded in passing the trial, Golden Mountain Temple had become lively. The number of people wanting to challenge the Eighteen Arhats Formation increased dramatically, but they all copied Xiao Yan’s methods, leaving the Eighteen Arhats exhausted and miserable—every day, they ran through the streets, bearing sticks, a strange mix of pain and exhilaration...
Besides, every few days, groups of martial artists would ascend the mountain, clamoring to challenge Xiao Yan. Of course, these people were all after fame.
Their logic was simple: if the world’s greatest swordsman, Sword Immortal Li Bai, failed to break through the Eighteen Arhats Formation, then the formation must be stronger than Li Bai. But since Xiao Yan succeeded, doesn’t that make him stronger than Li Bai?
Everyone in the martial world knew the truth: Xiao Yan was merely a weakling with only five layers of internal strength, who relied on cunning tricks to win. Yet some schemers not only kept quiet about this but deliberately spread the word that Xiao Yan was now the number one master, using every possible means to build his reputation. Then, all they had to do was defeat this weakling and their own fame would be assured.
Of course, many upright sect members, too proud to stoop to such tricks, weren’t idle either. They spread rumors, criticizing Xiao Yan’s underhanded tactics in Golden Mountain Temple, successfully casting him as a demonic villain.
...
Naturally, Xiao Yan wasn’t a fool. With Fahai in hibernation and only a “single-player version” of the Eighteen Arhats Formation, he could barely reach the fifteenth level—a middling skill at best in the martial world, barely third-rate.
So he avoided confrontation, letting them shout at his meditation chamber door to their hearts’ content. Xiao Yan treated it like tuning into a radio—quite the entertainment in this monotonous ancient world.
Within the chamber, Xiao Yan enjoyed wolf meat, walked his dog Howling Sky, and occasionally practiced calligraphy. Life was rather comfortable.
The little maid who delivered letters hadn’t left either; after paying the abbot generously, she secured a meditation chamber right across from Xiao Yan’s, seemingly assigned to keep watch over him.
This meant Xiao Yan couldn’t leave the mountain.
The girl’s name was Jiang Xiaoyue. Within days, she became familiar with Xiao Yan and let him in on much of what was happening below the mountain.
Xiao Yan gradually realized that this world he had crossed into, though ancient, was quite different from the history he had learned before.
For example, Li Bai, originally the Poet Immortal, had taken up martial arts and become the world’s greatest swordsman.
Du Fu was a drunkard at age three, and his first visit to a brothel at eighteen left him drained and dead soon after.
Even Bai Juyi and Li He ended up partnering in tofu production, earning a fortune and becoming powerful tycoons.
Yet none of them had anything to do with poetry or literature...
...
There were many such oddities. Clearly, the history he’d studied was useless here, and so the classic poetry and prose never appeared.
Learning this, Xiao Yan felt a twinge of regret.
Thus, while practicing calligraphy, he occasionally copied a poem or two for his own enjoyment, always admiring them afterward: “So moist! So moist!”
Jiang Xiaoyue watched from the side, scoffing at his shamelessness.
“Your calligraphy is truly ugly!” she commented bluntly, then bragged, “My mistress’s handwriting is much more beautiful than yours…”
“What kind of person is your mistress?” Xiao Yan couldn’t help but ask.
“She is, of course…” Jiang Xiaoyue began, then paused as if catching herself, and finally said, “Eight feet tall, eight feet around the waist!”
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“Pfft…” Xiao Yan shook his head, declining to pursue the matter further. He set down his brush and went outside to practice martial arts.
Jiang Xiaoyue watched Xiao Yan’s retreating figure and muttered under her breath, “Hmph, just as my mistress predicted—he’s a foolish monk, can’t even write, yet dreams of marrying above his station. What a hopeless fantasist. Thank goodness my mistress sent me ahead…”
“But...what’s he writing here?”
Her gaze fell upon the paper covered in crooked characters. Frowning, she tried to discern the script: “This... ‘Invitation to Wine’? ‘Do you not see the waters of the Yellow River coming from the sky’? What nonsense is this? That scoundrel—now he’s a monk and still wants to drink? Definitely not a good person... No matter, I’ll take this back to my mistress as grounds to reject the marriage.”
With that, Jiang Xiaoyue hastily folded the rice paper and tucked it into her ample bosom, satisfied as she departed.
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“Hey...did you hear? Xiao Yan became an honorary elder...hahaha...”
“That loser got to be an elder?”
“Isn’t this old news? Didn’t the abbot announce it the day he finished the trial? Hard to believe such a weakling made elder.”
“Haven’t you heard? The neighboring Spirit Sword Temple is making a big fuss about it, saying Golden Mountain Temple leads people astray—Eighteen Arhats Formation, monks running around with sticks every day, clearly not a proper monastery. They even poached a bunch of our new disciples...”
“All because of that fool Xiao Yan...”
“But he won’t be proud for long. Golden Mountain Temple has rules: every elder must have at least one disciple, and if he doesn’t recruit one within a month, his elder status will be revoked...”
“Oh, and haha...do you know what his honorary elder job is?”
“What? Most temple affairs are handled by elders now, aren’t they?”
“His elder post is...”
The monk whispered quietly in the ear of his companions.
“Hahaha...serves him right...”
The monks burst out laughing.
...
“Look, isn’t that Zhuge Yixiu over there?” one monk suddenly recognized a bald figure in the distance and wondered, “What’s he up to?”
...
Zhuge Yixiu, shifty-eyed, was observing the crowd, approaching everyone to ask, “Benefactor, would you like to be ordained? I can introduce you to an elder you can apprentice with...”
“Are you crazy? I’m just here to pray, and you want to shave my head???” the devotee replied, annoyed.
“But you have great affinity with Buddhism...” Zhuge Yixiu persisted, pestering relentlessly.
“What makes you say that?”
“Didn’t you notice? You’re naturally bald—perfect! No need for shaving to be a monk!” Zhuge Yixiu excitedly rubbed the man’s gleaming head.
“Forget it...I’m done with praying here...goodbye!” the man stormed off.
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Zhuge Yixiu didn’t lose heart, continuing to approach everyone he saw.
“Benefactor, would you like to be ordained?”
“Are you nuts? I’m a woman...”
“Won’t you reconsider?”
“Get lost!”
“...”
...
Just then, a seventeen or eighteen-year-old youth walked by. Zhuge Yixiu’s eyes flickered and he rushed over, grabbing the boy’s hand. “Hey...brother, let me take you for ordination...”
“What? What are you talking about?” The youth was bewildered, struggling as he said, “I...I came to seek a marriage match...”
“Oh, that’s perfect...come with me...” Zhuge Yixiu paused, then dragged the youth to the ordination room.
Half a quarter later, the youth was utterly bewildered.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves, illuminating his head, which shone like a lightbulb...
“Hehe, congratulations...” Zhuge Yixiu approached, enthusiastically praising his bald head.
“So...seeking a marriage match requires shaving my head?” The youth touched his bald scalp, utterly lost. How would he explain this to his family?
“Put marriage aside for now. Haven’t you heard the master say? Only the bald become strong!”
“But I don’t want to become strong. I just want a wife... But...which master said that?”
“Elder Xiao Yan!”
“...”
“He’ll be your teacher from now on!”
“But...”
“By the way, what’s your name?”
“I’m Lin Dong.”
...
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