Volume One: The Young Monk Returns to Secular Life Chapter Sixty-Two: The Legendary Hero Chen Bufan
“What should we do then?” Qin Xuanxuan asked, somewhat unwilling to accept the outcome.
“Leave it for now,” Qin Shirong replied, tossing the little booklet aside as he went about his other business.
At that moment, Elder Huiren, who had been standing at the door for quite some time, finally smiled faintly, shook his head, and walked out of the council hall.
This Xiao Yan… truly grows more inscrutable by the day…
One day, as an official entered Qin Shirong’s study to fetch some documents, he accidentally picked up the little booklet from the desk.
He thought for a moment, then placed it among the files that had already been reviewed and were scheduled for implementation.
But all this would only matter later.
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Time flew by. A certain young monk slept until noon the next day before getting up.
He stretched lazily, then accidentally rolled off the carriage, bumping his head so hard it formed a big lump, making him grimace in pain.
After picking himself up, he began to stroll slowly, humming a peculiar tune as he walked.
Probably only he could be so carefree in the midst of the disaster zone.
He had barely taken a few steps when he saw a woman leading a little girl coming toward him.
As they passed, the woman glanced at the young monk with a wary look.
But the little girl was crying, calling out, “Mother, I’m so hungry.”
“Cough… be good, Xiaoyue, I’ll find you something to eat… cough, cough…” The woman walked unsteadily, head bowed, coughing incessantly.
It seemed she hadn’t eaten in a long time.
The young monk pressed his lips together, touched the steamed bun hidden in his robe, and, without hesitation, followed after them.
The woman and the little girl stopped at the entrance to a grand household. The woman hesitated for a moment, then, steeling herself, took the little girl up to knock on the door.
Above the door, the words “Li Residence” were inscribed.
Soon, a man dressed as a servant came out, scrutinizing the mother and child: “What do you want?”
“Cough… young master, we haven’t eaten in so long… please, is there any leftover porridge or rice…” the woman pleaded, tears streaming.
“There’s nothing. Get lost,” the servant replied, covering his mouth and nose as if used to such scenes.
With that, he slammed the door shut.
“Cough, cough…”
The woman’s coughing grew more frequent.
Left outside, only the mother and daughter remained, and the little girl suddenly began to wail.
“Cough… it’s all right, don’t cry, cough… I’ll find something for you to eat,” the woman said, pulling the little girl along, searching the ground as they walked.
“Mother, I don’t want to eat dead rats again… they taste awful… they’re already rotten…” The little girl wiped her wet eyes and continued, “I want candied hawthorn, and Uncle Hong’s roast duck…”
“Cough, cough…” The woman kept coughing, unable to speak, until she coughed up a mouthful of blood into her palm.
“Mother… what’s wrong? I won’t eat anymore… I’ll eat nothing, just don’t scare me…” The little girl’s face turned fearful. She remembered her father had coughed blood, then closed his eyes the next day, never to wake again.
The young monk, following behind, stepped forward, broke his bun in half, and handed it over.
“Here…”
The woman instantly snatched the bun, shoved it into the little girl’s hands, and hurriedly led her away.
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The young monk smiled gently, caught up, and stuffed another bun into the little girl’s hands.
Only then did he turn to leave. The little girl waved at him, “Thank you, uncle…”
The young monk shook his head, murmuring, “Should be ‘big brother’…”
But just then, anguished cries echoed behind him: “Mother… mother… please get up and play with Yue’er…”
The young monk’s brow furrowed; he took a deep breath and exhaled, as though making a difficult decision.
In the next moment, he turned and quickened his steps.
He knelt beside the woman, reached out to check her breathing, shook his head, picked up the sobbing little girl in one arm and grabbed the woman’s bundle with the other.
Ignoring the little girl’s tearful protests, he carried her toward the relief area.
Upon reaching a camp official, the young monk explained the situation, pointed toward where the woman had collapsed, set the little girl down, and prepared to leave.
Unexpectedly, the little girl chased after him, crying, refusing to part.
After nearly half an hour, the young monk finally turned to her.
“What’s your name?”
“Xiaoyue…”
“Don’t follow me; the soldiers there will take care of you…”
The little girl shook her head, her big, watery eyes gazing at him.
“Sigh…”
The young monk let out a long sigh.
“Big brother… here’s a biscuit…” The little girl pulled a misshapen biscuit from her mother’s bundle.
This was likely the only food her mother had left.
The young monk smiled gently and shook his head, “You eat it.”
“Mother said you can only eat when you’re hungry.” The little girl’s childish voice was earnest as she shook her head.
She must have realized now that her mother was gone.
“All right, but you mustn’t cry if you’re with me…” The young monk scooped up Xiaoyue, tapped her nose playfully.
“Okay.” The little girl nodded obediently and handed him the biscuit again.
“Big brother, don’t eat it yet; save it for when you’re hungry, okay?” The young monk shook his head.
“Mm.”
…
“Big brother… big brother… what’s your name?”
“Me? Xiao Yan.”
“All right, Xiao Yan.”
“You can’t call me that; you should say ‘big brother’…”
“Can I call you uncle? Xiao Yan.”
“No!”
“All right, Xiao Yan.”
“…”
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Just then, the young monk heard the sounds of fighting nearby. He frowned, picked up the little girl, and ran over curiously, saying, “Come, let’s see what’s happening…”
The little girl nodded.
They arrived under the eaves, both craning their necks to watch.
On the rooftop, a swordsman in white stood, brandishing his sword and pointing it at a middle-aged man across from him. “Will you donate or not?”
“Chen Bufan! I’ve already donated over thirty loads of grain! Don’t push me too far!” The middle-aged man, dressed in luxurious robes, raised his hands in a fighting stance.
“I’ve made myself clear. If that’s how you choose, then we must settle this by the rules of the martial world.” Chen Bufan spoke in a low voice, his sharp gaze unwavering.
His powerful internal energy, built over twenty-eight levels, erupted, making the roof tiles rattle.
…
“Hmph! Come then! Are you bullying the Green Mountain Sect, thinking we have no one?” The middle-aged man met his challenge, his aura radiating at twenty-nine levels of internal energy—one higher than Chen Bufan’s.
In an instant, his sword flashed, thrusting toward the opponent’s vital point…
Behind him, a group of young swordsmen also drew their blades, charging at the man in white.
“Swish…”
Chen Bufan’s sword reached the middle-aged man’s throat; but he held back, transforming the sword into a grip, seizing him by the throat.
“Don’t… don’t fight… let’s talk this out…” The middle-aged man was stunned by the disparity, despite having higher internal energy; he was defeated in a single moment.
“Release the master!”
The disciples around shouted, but none dared approach.
“As I said, keep enough grain for winter; donate the rest to the Minister.” Chen Bufan’s voice was stern, brooking no argument.
“Chen… Master Chen… I yield… I’ll donate…” The middle-aged man’s face turned crimson.
“Are you sure?” Only then did Chen Bufan loosen his grip.
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As Xiao Yan watched with relish, Xiaoyue tugged at his chin and said, “Xiao Yan, look, there’s someone over there.”
“Don’t call me Xiao Yan, call me uncle… no… big brother…” Xiao Yan lightly tapped Xiaoyue’s head.
But following her finger, Xiao Yan saw a woman dressed in a scholar’s robe, standing beneath another eave, observing the fight.
Because Xiaoyue spoke so loudly, the woman noticed them, her brows furrowing slightly at the sight.
It was indeed a strange pairing—a little girl and a young monk…
They seemed to be two kinds of people who should have nothing to do with one another.