Chapter 102: Hanxu Temple (Additional Chapter Dedicated to Captain "Incompetent")

Mount Single Wheel.

Fang Mu arrived at the foot of the mountain and narrowed his eyes slightly as he studied the barren slopes before him.

Mount Single Wheel was nothing more than an obscure little hill. With its remote wilderness and the lateness of the hour, there was no one to be seen anywhere.

From the foot of the mountain, he could make out nothing above.

Fang Mu lifted his foot and began walking toward the summit.

Few ever came to Mount Single Wheel. Though the mountain path was rugged, beneath Fang Mu’s Double Shadow Escape it felt no different from level ground.

After walking for the time it took half a column of incense to burn, Fang Mu stopped.

Halfway up the mountain stood an ancient, unadorned temple among the trees. Pinpricks of lamplight glimmered within, while dense forest pressed close outside. The contrast lent the temple an air of mystery.

“Knock, knock, knock…”

In the empty, desolate woods, the dull knocking echoed without end.

“A wooden fish?”

Fang Mu walked toward the temple.

When he reached the gate, he did not bother knocking. His figure swept over it like an eagle, and he vaulted across the low courtyard wall.

The little courtyard within was clean enough, though it showed its age. Everywhere bore the marks left by the grinding hand of time.

The main hall was brightly lit. Under the glow of an oil lamp, a monk in gray robes sat with his back to Fang Mu, his shoulders trembling incessantly.

The knocking came from inside the main hall.

Fang Mu entered and continued forward until he stood before the monk. Only then did he see his face.

The man appeared to be in his thirties, with ordinary features.

There was no statue of Buddha before him—only an altar table scarred with countless cuts from knives and axes.

On the crumbling wall behind the altar hung a painting of the Buddha.

Fang Mu smiled. “There is no statue, yet you chant sutras and pray before a Buddha in a painting. You certainly are sincere.”

“Knock, knock, knock… knock…”

The sound of the wooden fish gradually faded. The monk’s hand slowed, then came to a stop.

“I am Wang Chi, abbot of Cold Void Temple. I greet you, benefactor.” The monk bowed and replied, “Buddha does not judge appearances. Where the heart is sincere, the spirit responds. I would like to gild the statue as well, but alas, this poor monk lacks the means.”

Fang Mu looked him over. “I have heard that abbots generally wear yellow robes and red cassocks. Why are you dressed in gray?”

Wang Chi found a meditation cushion and carefully spread it on the floor, gesturing for Fang Mu to sit.

Fang Mu shook his head and did not take the cushion.

Wang Chi sighed. “Because we are poor. This poor monk would like to wear yellow robes too.”

Fang Mu said nothing. Instead, he drew his butcher’s knife and swung it at Wang Chi.

In these deep mountains, at the dead of night, the man had been striking a wooden fish without pause. Even Fang Mu’s arrival had left him completely unperturbed. Clearly, this monk named Wang Chi was hiding something.

“The Buddha’s teachings are boundless.”

Wang Chi pressed his palms together. Golden light shimmered across his body, stopping Fang Mu’s butcher’s knife in midair.

“Benefactor, please do not draw weapons before Buddha.”

“Boom!”

A scarlet web of blades enveloped Wang Chi. Beneath its assault, the golden radiance around him melted away in an instant, like ice beneath a blazing fire.

The butcher’s knife came to rest against Wang Chi’s throat, and his face went pale.

With a single move, he had been defeated.

Fang Mu kicked him to the ground and said, “I’m a plainspoken man. I don’t understand your roundabout talk. Tell me—does the series of murders in Song County have anything to do with you?”

The monk had been speaking in riddles, but Fang Mu did not understand riddles. And when he did not understand something, he simply handled it according to his own methods.

Wang Chi froze. “Murders?”

Fang Mu pulled out the Buddhist scripture and flung it to the floor. His voice turned cold. “Does this have anything to do with Cold Void Temple?”

Feeling the chill of the butcher’s knife at his throat, Wang Chi gave a bitter smile. “Benefactor, could you move the knife away first?”

Fang Mu nodded and withdrew it.

Wang Chi rose and picked up the blank scripture from the floor. After examining it carefully, he could not help sighing. Then he reached into his robes and took out something.

Fang Mu’s gaze sharpened, and his brow creased slightly.

It was another Buddhist scripture. As Wang Chi turned its pages, Fang Mu saw that this one was blank as well.

Two identical blank scriptures. There was clearly more to them than met the eye.

“Benefactor.” Wang Chi set the scripture down and smiled bitterly. “This matter is indeed connected to Cold Void Temple. Would you hear me out?”

Fang Mu nodded.

Wang Chi stood and walked toward the inner room.

Fang Mu did not stop him and followed inside.

The inner room adjoined the main hall and was just as dilapidated.

After crossing the threshold between the two rooms, Fang Mu saw what lay within.

The room was old and sparsely furnished. At the very front hung a portrait—a woman’s portrait.

The woman in the painting wore white robes and possessed extraordinary beauty. Yet what drew Fang Mu’s attention was the hem of her garment.

A tiny character had been embroidered there: Mei.

The moment Fang Mu saw it, he immediately thought of the spotless handkerchief embroidered with the same character.

“To think that a temple untouched by the dust of the world would have a woman’s image hanging inside.” Fang Mu spoke with pointed meaning. “Wang Chi, this is not some temple of worldly pleasure, is it?”

Wang Chi pressed his palms together. “Benefactor, please do not jest. This woman was in fact connected to the previous abbot of Cold Void Temple.”

“Oh?” Fang Mu stared at the portrait on the wall. “Tell me more.”

He had not expected the matter to involve the previous abbot from the very beginning, and his interest was piqued.

Wang Chi answered a different question. “You are a Mystic Adept, benefactor. Have you ever heard of the Uncanny Adepts?”

Fang Mu narrowed his eyes. “I have.”

Wang Chi drew a deep breath. “The previous abbot of Cold Void Temple became an Uncanny Adept.”

“An Uncanny Adept?” Fang Mu tore his gaze from the portrait. “Are you saying this was done by the abbot of Cold Void Temple?”

If the previous abbot had become an Uncanny Adept, then everything pointed back to him.

But what was the meaning of the portrait on the wall? Wang Chi seemed to be withholding a great deal.

Fang Mu said slowly, “I think there is more you have not told me. Tell me everything you know now. My time is limited, and so is my patience.”

Wang Chi looked straight at him. “Benefactor, this matter has nothing to do with Cold Void Temple itself. It was the work of the previous abbot alone. The truth is tangled with old grudges from the generation before us. Allow me to explain it slowly.”

Fang Mu nodded. The monk was an intelligent man.

Knowing he could not defeat Fang Mu, he had chosen to tell the truth outright, saving Fang Mu considerable trouble.

Wang Chi gazed at the portrait on the wall and said slowly, “The previous abbot was a Mystic Adept before he became an Uncanny Adept. At the time, he was the second naturally gifted person Cold Void Temple had ever produced, and the temple itself was flourishing.”

“The second?” Fang Mu frowned. “You mean there was a first?”

Wang Chi pressed his palms together and sighed. “The first was the abbot’s younger brother in discipleship. The two of them grew up together in Cold Void Temple. The abbot was named Void Yang, and his junior brother was named Void Fall. They were extremely close and should have become the pillars of Cold Void Temple. But fate is unpredictable, and the two eventually turned against each other.”

“All of it began with a woman.”