Chapter Thirty-Three: My Disciple Might Not Be Quite Normal Either, Right?

The Chen and Lin families had been close for generations, and Chen Buqun and Lin Dong had been childhood playmates. As they grew older, however, Chen Buqun began to display extraordinary talent, while Lin Dong was judged to be of poor aptitude, hopeless in martial arts. From then on, their lives diverged dramatically. Chen Buqun embarked on the martial path, mingling with famed heroes of the martial world, and gradually drifted away from Lin Dong, eventually coming to look down on his childhood friend.

At first, Lin Dong was unwilling to accept his fate, but as time went on, he slowly gave up. Thus, the distance between them grew.

“Buqun…” Lin Dong hesitated. After all, telling someone that you went up the mountain to seek a marriage fate but ended up being dragged off to become a monk—such a thing was hard to believe. He himself could hardly believe it, and yet…

“You could have just become a monk, but how did you end up as Xiao Yan’s disciple? Didn’t you ask around? That man’s a madman… he’s so weak… what could he possibly teach you?” Chen Buqun’s disappointment was palpable; he took the tone of an elder admonishing the young, for with his current strength, he was fully entitled to criticize Lin Dong.

In this martial world, someone as skilled as Chen Buqun was considered a success, while Lin Dong was just a failure in everyone’s eyes. Chen Buqun knew Lin Dong had worked hard—after Lin Dong was deemed mediocre, Chen Buqun would see him practicing alone in the courtyard during the late hours when he got up to use the outhouse. Back then, Chen Buqun encouraged Lin Dong, and they strove together.

But for some reason, all of that faded with time. Eventually, Chen Buqun realized their talents had already determined their fates; no matter how hard Lin Dong tried, he would never catch up.

“Buqun, no matter what, Xiao Yan is still my master. You can’t speak of him that way.” Lin Dong’s face grew slightly stern, as if he were truly angry.

“Ah, you… Don’t be so stubborn. How about this: my family has ties to Gold Mountain Temple. I’ll talk to the abbot and see if you can switch teachers. I’ve heard Elder Hui Ren is quite skilled, and has trained many outstanding disciples,” Chen Buqun advised in earnest.

“I appreciate your kindness, but there’s no need. Elder Xiao Yan may be a bit weak, but I know the proper respect due to a teacher… And he’s been good to me, teaching me swordsmanship as well,” Lin Dong sighed, shaking his head in refusal.

“You… He can barely manage himself, and he’s teaching you swordplay? Sigh…” Chen Buqun could only sigh again. He wanted to say more, but knowing Lin Dong’s character, once he set his mind to something, he was immovable.

For a moment, Chen Buqun didn’t know what else to say.

At that moment, the old Daoist with sword-like brows was growing impatient and shouted loudly, “Young Master Chen, stop wasting time and hand over Xiao Yan!”

“Yes! Hand over Xiao Yan!”

“That’s right! Hand over Xiao Yan!”

The people behind the sword-browed Daoist, clearly emboldened by him, began to shout as well.

At this time, Xiao Yan was napping on a nearby tree. The Howling Celestial Dog tried to pee on his bald head, but with a roll, Xiao Yan swatted it away. Crestfallen, the dog soon trotted off to the abbot’s room to cause mischief on his shiny head instead…

“Everyone, for my sake, please don’t trouble Lin Dong. Our goal is Xiao Yan; there’s no need to make things difficult for a young monk,” Chen Buqun finally stepped forward, shaking his head and gritting his teeth.

“This…” Many hesitated, for the Chen family Sword Sect still commanded respect in the martial world. The head of their sect, Chen Bufan, was a master of the twenty-sixth level of internal energy, and Chen Buqun’s martial talent promised he would one day reach at least the twenty-fifth level. The Sword Sect had suffered a blow when Da Vinci the Thief stole their sword manual, depriving their disciples of the full teachings, and so had fallen from the ranks of the top tier. Yet even so, a lean camel is still bigger than a horse—the Chen family Sword Sect remained influential, and not a force these scattered martial artists could afford to cross.

“You can’t leave yet. Using the outhouse costs one or two taels of silver. Pay before you go,” Lin Dong suddenly blurted out, somewhat bewildered.

“Hmph! Let me capture you first, then I’ll find that scoundrel Xiao Yan!” The sword-browed Daoist, thinking he’d found a weakness, snorted coldly and dashed forward, his whisk flying like a blade towards Lin Dong.

On a tree not far away, Xiao Yan stretched lazily, intending to go back to sleep, when he suddenly realized the tree was shaking and he nearly fell off.

Looking down, he saw—damn—it was Elder Hui Ming chopping at the tree.

“Hey… Elder, can’t you chop a different tree? You’re ruining my nap…” Xiao Yan was baffled.

“I want to smash you, you rascal! Who told you to barge into the Eighteen Arhats Formation? You’ve led all the monks of Gold Mountain Temple astray, do you know that?” Elder Hui Ming fumed.

“That… has nothing to do with me,” Xiao Yan replied helplessly, spreading his hands.

Elder Hui Ming shook his head and glanced at the crowd below, pointing at Lin Dong. “I heard that boy is your disciple?”

Xiao Yan nodded, rolled over, and looked ready to sleep again.

“He’s about to be beaten half to death, and you’re just hiding here?” Elder Hui Ming was annoyed. He’d been observing Lin Dong for some time—though the young monk lacked talent, he was diligent. Every day, Hui Ming would see him pass by the Sutra Library while cleaning the latrines. Such diligence, even if not fit for a martial hero, made him a promising monk. Seeing the current situation, Elder Hui Ming couldn’t help but feel sympathy, and was even more displeased that this little monk’s master was napping in a tree, unconcerned for his disciple’s fate.

Xiao Yan squinted at the scene, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint smile. “Heh… Don’t worry. It’s just a bunch of useless fools.”

“Your disciple only has five levels of internal energy, and that one has ten!” Elder Hui Ming stamped his foot in anger, kicking the tree so hard Xiao Yan nearly fell.

“Heh… I’m only at five levels myself, but didn’t I still thrash the Eighteen Arhats?”

“You’re different… You’re crazy…”

“Well… maybe my disciple isn’t quite normal either?”

…

Just as the sword-browed Daoist charged, Chen Buqun realized what was happening, but he was too far away. By the time he drew his sword, it was already too late; all he could do was shout, “Watch out!”