Volume One: The Young Monk Returns to Secular Life Chapter Seventy-Eight: Donating Grain (Supplement for Yesterday)

Inside the camp.

“Outrageous! Are you out of your mind? How dare you do such a thing…” Huang Long slammed the table, his voice seething with anger.

“Master Huang, hush… keep your voice down.” Chen Buqun slowly stepped forward to address the gathered crowd, speaking in a measured tone. “Killing me now won’t solve anything. The question you truly need to consider is—do you still want to keep that foul rice stored away?”

“And if we do?” Huang Long glared, slamming his palm upon the table once more.

“Haha… Then, Master Huang, are you prepared to eat filth?” Chen Buqun smiled faintly at Huang Long, then swept his gaze around the room, pausing on each of the other masters. “Or perhaps Master Lin will eat it? Master Yue? Master Mi?”

At this, the others’ faces changed, but none could utter a word in protest.

“You are all men of stature, heroes with reputations to protect—of course you would never eat filth. But if you refuse… someone else will eat it! And they’ll even be grateful to you. Your only way out now is to donate the grain…”

Chen Bufan pointed at the assembled masters, then gestured in the direction of the camp’s outskirts, raising his voice.

“So… You mean…” Someone’s face grew dark and uncertain, glancing between Chen Buqun and Qin Shirong.

“Once grain is tainted with moisture, it can’t be kept long—you really have no choice now. As for Master Qin, he is a generous man…”

Chen Buqun continued, following the words Xiao Yan had instructed him to say.

“If you masters are willing to donate all your grain, I will overlook your previous offenses,” Qin Shirong immediately chimed in.

Though he hadn’t fully grasped what had happened, Qin Shirong was no fool—he could guess at least part of the truth.

“But…”

The ten masters were still reluctant. Even knowing the boy before them was likely responsible, they could do nothing. As the youth said, the grain had to be dealt with.

Eat filth? For these masters, that was simply impossible…

“Gentlemen, I suggest you decide quickly. I can’t guarantee that Master Qin won’t change his mind; what you’ve done is tantamount to rebellion!” Chen Buqun sneered at the crowd.

“I am willing…”

Even knowing that donating grain might not spare them from punishment in the long run, they had no choice.

But just then, a great blade came crashing down from above, embedding itself into the table with a loud clang.

Everyone leapt back in alarm, only to see a bloodied figure drop from the sky, landing atop the blade’s hilt.

“Hahaha! Such talent in one so young! Chen Bufan, you have raised a fine son!” The man was none other than Yue Badaw. He glanced at Chen Buqun, then turned and nodded to the wounded Chen Bufan, giving a thumbs-up.

“Master Yue,” Chen Buqun greeted him respectfully, cupping his hands.

“Hmm, good manners. But…” Yue Badaw continued, “Since you claim this rice is unfit to eat, I certainly won’t let them have it. It would only make their sickness worse. I’d rather let it rot in the granary than see the refugees sicken themselves with it!”

Chen Buqun frowned slightly, at a loss for words.

“So, I won’t donate! Who else stands with me?” Yue Badaw smiled, sweeping his gaze around the room.

“I, Huang Long, will not donate either! Let it rot in the granary!” Huang Long stepped forward boldly.

“Nor will I!”

“Nor I!”

The other masters echoed in unison.

“Haha… Young Master Chen, you’re truly remarkable, even more so than your father! Would you be interested in having tea at my home?” Yue Badaw chuckled, looking at Chen Buqun with a twinkle in his eye.

Everyone could see he was trying to recruit the boy.

Yue Badaw knew—among the powerful clans, a single lion was not enough; you needed a tiger as well. Perhaps this little tiger before him…

“Heh… My apologies… My disciple doesn’t care for tea…” At that moment, a monk in colorful robes entered, smiling.

“Oh?” Yue Badaw frowned, turning to regard the monk. “And who might you be, young master?”

“Me? Just a humble monk from Golden Mountain Monastery. You can call me Xiao Yan!” The little monk stepped forward, a sly smile on his lips. “Yue Badaw, is it? Nice to meet you! You don’t want to donate? Even if you did, I wouldn’t accept it!”

“Oh? Haha… You won’t take my grain? How interesting…” Yue Badaw laughed.

“That’s right, and Master Qin won’t accept your grain either,” Xiao Yan continued.

“This…” Qin Shirong was about to speak, confused.

But Xiao Yan put a finger to his lips, “Shh… Don’t speak. Just nod.”

Qin Shirong was bewildered, but guessed this must be the very Xiao Yan who had written those pamphlets.

Still… What was his plan?

Qin Shirong looked to Chen Buqun, who nodded in return. With a sigh, Qin Shirong could only nod. “Ah… Very well…”

“Now that’s more like it.” Xiao Yan’s lips curled into a smile. “But aside from Yue Badaw, the rest of you may donate.”

“Heh! Don’t try your tricks. None of us will donate!” Huang Long stepped forward, voice deep and resolute.

Yue Badaw folded his arms, grinning at the little monk, saying nothing, as if that itself was the greatest show of contempt.

“Haha… Yes, exactly… You need not donate…” Xiao Yan nodded and strolled among the ten masters.

He whispered a few words to each, quietly enough that none else could hear, but every master’s face showed stern refusal.

Having made his round, Xiao Yan returned to stand before Yue Badaw. “It’s settled! None of you have to donate… But have you considered…”

“Considered what?” Yue Badaw frowned, a sense of foreboding rising within him.

The little monk said nothing at first, just shook his head and walked towards the door. Pausing at the threshold, he turned abruptly, “Unless you can guarantee absolute unity—that not one of you will donate—what if, just what if, one among you donates in secret? Then everyone will know you have grain! None of you will escape! The family that donates will claim all the honor, all the applause… and most importantly, a royal pardon. As for the benefits, I’ve already told each of you privately. Think hard… You may not donate, but what if your brother does? Haha… The choice is yours. Remember my words…”

With that, the little monk departed.

As the crowd wavered, a commotion arose outside the camp.

“Come, come—congee is ready! This is rice secretly brought back by the hero Li Bai… It’s not much, but eat now, then go home!” the little monk called out.

Chaos erupted outside the camp. After days of hunger, no one cared for pride or honor.

Death was the true horror. With porridge in sight, none would foolishly cling to dignity.

“Oh no…” Yue Badaw realized too late that the tables had turned.

***

The next day, at the Yue household.

“Master Yue—bad news—The Lin family must have secretly donated their grain. I saw them sneaking men into Qin’s residence!” Huang Long burst into the Yue home, panic in his voice.

Master Yue sat at the center, while Yue Badaw silently polished his blade at the side.

Master Yue frowned, tension in his voice. “Are you certain, Master Huang?”

“I’m sure of it! Absolutely! Master Yue, Master Yue Badaw—what should we do?”

“Heh…” Yue Badaw only shook his head with a wry smile, then sighed. “Master Huang, do you really take us all for fools?”

With a whoosh, his five-foot blade swept out, resting cold against Huang Long’s throat.

“Tell me, are you truly that afraid to die?”

Yue Badaw turned his face, his gaze cold as a specter in the night, boring into Huang Long as he spoke. “None of the families donated… Only you did, in secret… You leaped to the front, yet are the most afraid of death. You’ve truly surprised me…”

“What? Impossible…” Huang Long’s eyes bulged. “I didn’t… I swear I didn’t… Master Yue, spare me…”

A scream rang out, and in an instant, a master of his generation lost his head.

Blood stained the sky, red as the setting sun.

“Damn it… Who is this Xiao Yan, really?” Master Yue asked, bewildered.

“Haha…” Yue Badaw merely laughed, his eyes sharp as he gazed ahead. “A most intriguing soul… I’ve always liked little tigers like that…”

***

After the Huang family donated grain, the other clans, left with no choice, followed suit, hoping for pardon.

Under the evening glow, refugees queued in orderly lines.

Though the rice stank and even after washing retained its odor, to those on the verge of starvation, it was the most fragrant meal in the world.

On the tenth day of the eighth month, everyone ate rice.

…

PS: My first attempt at a long-form, major arc—at last, it’s done. The outcome was a bit different from what I imagined, but I can give it a passing grade. I’ll keep trying long arcs, but next time I’ll outline carefully and prepare better. That’s all for now—please vote, please bookmark.