Volume One: The Young Monk Returns to Secular Life Chapter Fifty-Eight: My Master’s Name Is Xiao Yan

But Lin Dong had no way to retreat anymore...

Chen Buqun’s great sword was already spinning toward Lin Dong!

Lin Dong had steeled himself for a mutually destructive outcome...

Everyone cried out in shock, certain that in the next instant Lin Dong would be struck...

“That’s enough! Stop! Lin Dong has lost!”

A white-haired elder leaped forward wielding a broadsword, cleaving the great sword aside with a single swing.

With a thud, the great sword lodged itself in a tree and quivered, as if to signify that the danger had passed.

The man who appeared so suddenly was none other than Lin Dong’s father, Lin Chen.

From his entire being radiated an internal force of formidable depth—twenty-five layers strong! Yet his aura differed from that of other martial experts, carrying a blood-soaked, domineering oppression, likely forged from years of charging into battle as a soldier.

“Dong’er! Hurry and apologize to your brother Bu Diao,” Lin Chen said in a measured tone, his voice calm yet commanding.

“I did not lose,” Lin Dong replied, his brow furrowed, yet stubbornly shaking his head.

“Still so obstinate?” Lin Chen was annoyed; he was a man of principle and expected his son to admit defeat when beaten.

“Greetings, Uncle Lin,” Chen Bu Diao quickly saluted respectfully.

Yet in his heart, Chen Bu Diao was still unsettled by that fleeting moment just now—he had clearly sensed a trace of danger, a threat to his very life, and it had come from Lin Dong. He couldn’t quite understand it.

Just then, the abbot strode in, laughing heartily. “General Lin! Truth be told, the final outcome wasn’t settled. We can’t say for certain that Lin Dong would have lost.”

“Abbot! You can’t favor Dong’er… Had I not intervened, that useless rascal would already be dead…” Lin Chen clasped his hands in a respectful gesture—a significant courtesy from the nation’s Grand General.

The abbot simply shook his head and smiled, offering no further explanation. He couldn’t vouch for other disciples, but those trained by Xiao Yan were always unpredictable...

Half an hour later…

Lu Yi Gao led Lu Xiao Ming down the mountain in shame.

From a distance, Lu Xiao Ming’s figure looked heavy, even more so than Zhuge Yi Xiu… as if he’d gained several hundred pounds!

Most likely from the beating delivered by Lu Yi Gao…

Chen Bu Diao reclaimed the “Chen Family Sword Technique,” ready to return home and fulfill his task. Yet he knew he would never forget the final moment of his duel with Lin Dong—that brush with death.

Lin Chen, his expression grave, brought Lin Dong to the abbot’s private chamber.

Inside, silence reigned.

No one spoke.

Lin Chen, unable to contain himself, shook his head and sighed, finally breaking the silence: “Dong’er! Come down the mountain with me. Don’t stay a monk any longer.”

“Why?” Lin Dong and the abbot both asked in unison.

“Tell me, what have you been doing in the temple these days? Didn’t your mother say you came to seek a marriage match?” Lin Chen paused, pointing to Lin Dong’s gleamingly shaven head. “Why even shave your head?”

“Father… I…” Lin Dong was momentarily at a loss for words.

“That aside, being a monk isn’t shameful… But you spend every day shoveling dung? Every man in our Lin family stands tall—when have we ever done such menial work?” Lin Chen continued, growing angrier.

“General Lin, you shouldn’t say that…” The abbot tried to explain, for Lin Dong had actually done much more.

But Lin Chen cut him off: “Abbot, you don’t know. Do you know what I saw outside the latrine today? This brat was extorting people… Who knows who taught him those tricks—thinks he’s so skilled now, does he?”

“Father, you misunderstand… I was…”

“Dong’er, I taught you: when you’ve made a mistake, you must admit it.”

“I did nothing wrong,” Lin Dong murmured.

“You… Are you trying to infuriate me?” Lin Chen reached out to strike him.

The abbot stepped forward, catching Lin Chen’s hand and shaking his head. “General Lin, please, don’t be hasty. Let me show you something.”

Lin Chen withdrew his hand, though he remained sullen.

The abbot took a stack of letters from the bookshelf and placed them before Lin Chen.

“Abbot… What’s this?” Lin Chen was puzzled; these were letters, and he wouldn’t open them without permission.

“It’s alright. Go ahead and open them,” the abbot said with a smile.

Each envelope bore the same insignia—all were replies from the Minister of Revenue. The official seal was unmistakable.

Lin Chen frowned, picked up one, and tore it open, taking out the letter inside.

The date was just a few days ago, signed by the Minister of Revenue.

The contents read:

To the Abbot of Jinshan Temple:

We have received over one hundred loads of grain and one thousand taels of silver from Jinshan Temple.

We are especially grateful for the generous thousand taels from the virtuous Lin Dong. The funds have been used to purchase grain to relieve the suffering of disaster victims.

Respectfully, Qin Shi Rong.

Lin Chen’s expression grew more confused as he opened several more letters, each mentioning Lin Dong.

His face became complicated.

“Abbot… What is the meaning of this?” Lin Chen asked with a furrowed brow.

As a fellow official, he certainly knew Qin Shi Rong. Qin was an honest, capable administrator, a truly good official. That was why the emperor had entrusted him with disaster relief.

“The letters explain it clearly… Yes, it’s exactly as you suspect,” the abbot nodded, smiling gently. “Lin Dong is a good child.”

“So… the money collected outside the latrine was used for disaster relief?” Lin Chen pieced it together and seemed to understand.

“Dong’er? Is this true?” Lin Chen asked, frowning.

Lin Dong shook his head. “It wasn’t my idea… My master arranged everything…”

“Your master?” Lin Chen then recalled Lin Dong’s recent changes—the skill he’d shown against the two martial artists at the latrine, and Chen Bu Diao’s swordplay, were both remarkable.

“Yes, my master’s name is Xiao Yan.”

Whenever Lin Dong spoke of his master, his face was alight with happiness.

He had indeed learned much from him.

“Xiao Yan?” Lin Chen repeated the name, feeling it sounded familiar.

“Then your master must be a martial arts expert… I’d like to meet him someday,” Lin Chen said.

“No, his internal force is only at the seventh layer now,” Lin Dong replied.

“What? Is he here in the temple?” Lin Chen was incredulous.

Lin Dong sighed deeply. “No, I suppose he’s already reached the northern disaster area by now…”

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