Chapter 240: Sweeping Monk

Feng Yi's mind jolted, and he landed silently like a ghost.

With his martial arts, naturally no one could really speak right by his ear without him noticing; this must be someone using inner arts like "voice transmission".

Feng Yi knew exactly who was in the Shaolin Sutra Pavilion; he wouldn't be startled just because the other party used the superior inner art of voice transmission.

What startled him was the content of those words: "You've come!"

What do you mean "you've come"?

It sounded as if he were familiar with me, or knew I would come, but how could he know I would come?

Could it be that everything about me is under his watch, yet I notice nothing—this is what truly shocks Feng Yi.

In that instant, Feng Yi turned his gaze and saw, before the Sutra Pavilion, a bald monk in a green robe holding a broom, sweeping the courtyard earnestly.

It seemed as if he hadn't noticed Feng Yi entering, and he hadn't spoken to Feng Yi just then.

Such conduct could be called profoundly mysterious by some, or seen as pretending to be divine by others.

Feng Yi's eyes were like cold stars, flickering faintly; he discovered this sweeping monk was indeed extraordinary—though old, with a few sparse white whiskers, slow and weak, yet his sweeping produced no swishing sound, utterly silent.

Know that there are five top masters upstairs,

Only hearing Murong Bo's sudden restrained laughter, he said: "I have long heard that Xiao Feng, the great hero, possesses unparalleled talent and extraordinary insight, but today I see he is merely a reckless brute who knows nothing of righteousness. Heh heh, how laughable!"

Feng Yi knew the other side wouldn't reach a conclusion; his aim was to prevent the sweeping monk from interfering, so he could verify the age‑old debate from his past life.

He stepped forward, walking calmly toward the sweeping monk, his inner energy circulating; when they were still over a zhang apart, the old monk finally lifted his head and looked at Feng Yi.

Feng Yi felt a clean breeze rush past, his sword‑brows rose, his steps paused, his qi filled his body, as if he were swelling, and a whirlwind rose beneath the sweeping monk's broom,

but as a mountain wind blew past, everything vanished, as if nothing had happened.

Even though Feng Yi knew the Shaolin sweeping monk was formidable, he had never seen it with his own eyes, and the shock was great.

The old monk's gaze was vacant, lacking spirit, yet his whole body exuded an indescribable feeling—like something intangible, boundless; in one word it is "emptiness", a term meaning "empty void".

Feng Yi certainly knows that Buddhist martial arts take "emptiness" as the ultimate goal, while Daoist inner arts proceed from "non‑obstruction, non‑hindrance" to the state of "no distinction"; the two paths converge.

Yet within that frail, slow body of the old monk is not merely emptiness—it is like a lake full of water; once the dam opens, not to speak of moving mountains and overturning seas, even if a humanoid monster leapt out, Feng Yi would find it natural.

Though his eyes appeared dull, in fact his light was concealed, having returned to simplicity and purity, embracing the unadorned.

If one's martial attainment is insufficient, one would only see him as a frail old man unable to withstand a breeze.

Feng Yi felt both surprise and joy—surprised he might not win the fight, pleased that his journey was not in vain—but his face bore a faint smile.

The old monk's gaze continually swept over Feng Yi; he seemed to smile yet not smile, his eyes shone unusually, light flickered, his expression showed neither worry nor joy; upon closer look, a hint of evil qi could be seen, indicating he had forged a separate path, achieving the union of righteous and evil, yin and yang, marvelously penetrating the six harmonies.

The two outside the Sutra Pavilion focused their energy, sizing each other up; their eyes met and intertwined, Feng Yi's gaze grew brighter, blazing like the sun.

The old monk, whose face was withered and eyes murky, became clear and flawless, like two deep pools; his whole visage gained radiance.

While these two masters dueled, the five top experts inside the Sutra Pavilion knew nothing of it.

Murong Bo's true face having been exposed, he knew not only did the Xiao father‑son duo wish to capture him willingly, but he was also unwelcome among the Central Plains heroes; moreover, his body was ill, he suffered torment, and he no longer wished to live. Thus he rushed to the Shaolin Sutra Pavilion, struck the four guarding monks' sleep points, after which the Xiao father‑son and Kumarazhi arrived in turn.

Xiao Feng knew Kumarazhi was formidable, and Murong Bo formally introduced Kumarazhi to the Xiao father‑son, praising him highly, saying his martial arts far surpassed his own.

Kumarazhi felt grateful for Murong Bo's past gift of Shaolin's supreme skill and wished to aid Murong Bo.

The Xiao father‑son knew Kumarazhi might not be stronger than Murong Bo, yet his skill was indeed formidable, a worthy opponent; if they fought, victory would be uncertain. Afterwards Murong Fu also arrived, making it three versus two.

Murong Bo immediately proposed that his Murong clan held the advantage, but as long as Xiao Feng agreed to return to Liao, lead his troops south, and seize all Song lands north of the Yellow River, at that time the Murong clan would raise a righteous banner, launch from Shandong to respond to Liao, while Tibet, Western Xia, and Dali would rise together, the five states partitioning Great Song.

Then Xiao Feng could not only marry A Zhu, but with his talent and strategy also become an immortal figure in history, and could even wipe out the Central Plains martial world in one fell swoop, venting the resentment of being framed and expelled!

The Xiao father‑son knew Murong Fu was somewhat weak yet not to be underestimated; they feared that even if they failed to kill Murong Bo, they themselves might die in the Sutra Pavilion—such a move would truly exceed the Xiao father‑son's expectations, leaving them momentarily speechless.

Kumarazhi feared that if the Xiao father‑son agreed then reneged, it would have been a pointless death.

Who would have thought Murong Bo would say: "I, in my declining years, have wandered the jianghu for decades, accomplishing nothing, gathering only a few insignificant sects; Xiao Feng once risked everything for a girl with no kin, entering the Villa of Worthies alone to seek cure, now he and A Zhu are betrothed, known to all heroes under heaven—how could he, after my death, break his promise?"

Xiao Yuanshan said: "My son, this person's intention seems not unreasonable; what do you think?"

Xiao Feng flatly refused, slammed the table on it, hearing Murong Bo's provocation, he coldly replied: "Xiao Feng is indeed a reckless brute, but I know I want to marry A Zhu because we love each other, not to use her as a bargaining chip.

I also know that if it were not for your Murong clan's single‑minded desire to restore the state, provoking war, my mother would not have left me, my father would not have fallen into hatred, and would not have killed so many innocents.

And if my father had not taken Ye Erniang's child, countless children in this world would not have been separated from their parents!

If I, Xiao Feng, were used by your treacherous villain to reignite war between Liao and Song, letting blood flow like rivers, allowing your Murong clan to raise troops amid chaos to restore the fallen Yan state that has lain extinct for over six hundred years, would that not be the talk of fools?"

Murong Bo's lifelong ambition lay in restoring the Great Yan; Xiao Feng's words ignited his fury, and he shouted loudly: "Then don't blame us for bullying the few with the many!!"

Kumarazhi smiled with clasped hands: "If we capture and kill Xiao Feng, the southern monastery's king, there would still be profit to be had!"

Xiao Feng sneered: "Just now my bout with the master was undecided; at the temple gate, Murong's young master also wanted to spar—now is perfect, you two come at me together, what does Xiao Feng have to fear?"

Having said that, he stepped forward, struck out with a palm, unleashing the move "Dragon Battle in the Wild" toward Murong Bo.

Murong Bo and Xiao Feng exchanged palms; this time he did not meet the force head‑on, but gathered energy and swept aside—with a crackling sound, the left bookshelf splintered, its planks flying, the scriptures atop collapsing.

Murong Bo failed to neutralize Xiao Feng's palm power, yet redirected it, striking the bookshelf.

At the same moment Xiao Yuanshan threw a punch, but Kumarazhi blocked it with a palm; fist and wind clashed, sending dust and sand drifting down from the roof.

This exchange of palm and fist showed no superiority; both secretly admired each other.

At that moment a clang rang out; Murong Fu drew his long sword, cold light swallowing and spitting, with a hissing sound he tiptoed and lunged sideways, sword light enveloping Xiao Feng.

Though Murong Fu was naturally proud and disliked weapons, having had his arrogance crushed by Feng Yi earlier, he knew Xiao Feng was formidable and thus did not insist on using a blade.

Seeing Murong Fu's sword technique exquisite, Xiao Feng's heart tightened; he realized Murong Fu was indeed extraordinary and not to be taken lightly.

Kumarazhi's subordinate exerted strength, the Flame Blade technique erupted; Xiao Feng turned his body, both palms slapping toward Murong Fu.

Xiao Feng's combat experience was rich; seeing the situation inside, he knew his side was weak, so he had to quickly take Murong Fu's life to regain balance, thus he gave his all.

Xiao Yuanshan glanced, immediately understood, raised his energy, lifted his palms and followed up, straight for Murong Bo, already using ninety percent of his strength, leaving him no room to maneuver.

Murong Bo saw clearly and shouted: "The national master and Fu will deal with Xiao Feng; I will hold back Xiao Yuanshan!"

He and Xiao Yuanshan had crossed hands three times, were familiar with each other; he knew that as long as he entangled Xiao Yuanshan, letting Kumarazhi and Murong Fu defeat Xiao Feng, that would count as a win.

Both sides were battle‑scarred masters; each knew where the chance of victory lay.

Who would have thought that before their moves even met, a great shout came from outside the building, the voice vigorous and powerful, not only making the few present buzz in their ears, but the whole Sutra Pavilion seemed to tremble.

The five great masters were all first-rate figures in the martial world; as the five moved to attack, Shi Potian was startled—how could he have expected a blue flash to dart in, its speed indescribable in words, and moreover it seemed as if an invisible stone wall had appeared on the field; the sounds of everyone's attacks burst forth, Murong Fu's long sword humming, and all that could be heard was 'Amitabha!'

A fierce wind sprang up from flat ground, blowing the Scripture Pavilion's books to rustle loudly; several people felt a huge force surge toward them, their chests tightening involuntarily, and they could not help but retreat one after another, all showing looks of alarm.

Focusing his gaze, he saw that a thin, sharp-eyed old monk in green robes holding a broom had appeared in the field.

He appeared frail and weak, yet he could actually surge forth with such tremendous force in all directions, shattering their attacks completely; such divine ability is hardly of this world.

And this old monk seemed like dying embers of charcoal, his gaze dim and lifeless, his back stooping as he slowly turned his head, sweeping his eyes over the several people.

Seeing his gaze turn dull and vacant, as if he saw nothing, yet deep in his pupils something seemed hidden, laying them bare inside and out; they stood silent, but their chests felt as if struck by a huge hammer, a lifelong fear. They had never seen such profound martial skill, as if even Feng Yi fell short; Xiao Feng and Zhi Mozhi couldn't help thinking that when Feng Yi said the two had decided victory/defeat, it didn't represent the superiority of Shaolin martial arts—the reference was actually this.

Xiao Feng further recalled what Feng Yi had once said—that his father's every deed in the Shaolin Temple had been under others' watch; could this be that person?

Xiao Yuanshan and Murong Bo were even more shocked; the Shaolin Sutra Pavilion had practically become their own home—when had such an old monk appeared?

Moreover, looking at his attire, he was clearly a menial monk of the Shaolin Temple not belonging to any rank, yet he possessed such divine ability; if they hadn't seen it with their own eyes, they would never believe it even to death.

Murong Fu's long sword had almost slipped from his hand just now; now his arms felt hot, and he muttered, 'I only today realize that the way of martial arts truly has no limit.'

He had previously thought his own martial arts were already peerless under heaven; after meeting his father, he thought his father's martial arts were peerless; after sparring with Feng Yi, he felt Feng Yi was even stronger.

Now another sweeping monk has appeared.

Indeed, there's always a higher peak beyond the mountain.

His muttering also echoed the thoughts of Xiao Feng and his son, Zhi Mozhi, and the others.

The atmosphere on the field shifted from motion to stillness; several people held their breath, not daring to exhale, as if a mischievous child causing trouble in someone's home had been caught by the owner—yet his power was unimaginable; who wouldn't fear?

Suddenly a light laugh rang out: 'Master, your divine ability truly opens one's eyes!'

Several people turned toward the sound; a figure flickered at the doorway, and they saw Feng Yi walk in, smiling.

=9+book bar

Murong Fu and his father, together with Zhi Mozhi, felt a sudden jolt in their hearts, but then they thought: 'Xiao Feng said not to let him interfere; given Feng Yi's stature, he would surely not come meddling without reason. The Xiao family father and son are heroic figures, and they have no need of outside help; now the only concern is this old monk of vast divine ability.'

The old monk shook his head with a bitter smile: 'Where does one call this divine ability? It is Layman Feng's accomplishments that are truly astonishing and lamentable!'

Feng Yi happily said: 'Great master, you're too polite; just now I almost got bloodied by your broom.'

The old monk replied: 'Absolutely not mere politeness; Layman, your martial prowess is truly astonishing and shocking to the world!'

Feng Yi laughed heartily: 'I've heard that Shaolin has a Diamond Indestructible Divine Skill for body protection; when cultivated to the peak, a layer of invisible aura surrounds the body, shattering incoming fists, legs, weapons, and hidden projectiles before they reach you—was what the venerable monk just displayed this skill?'

Everyone was startled; they had also heard of the Diamond Indestructible Divine Skill, but Murong Bo and Xiao Yuanshan had never seen this secret manual in all these years.

The old monk glanced at Feng Yi and said: 'Layman, though young, your martial prowess is unmatched and your knowledge is broad as well.'

He went on shaking his head: 'How could there be anyone in the world with Diamond Indestructibility? No matter how invincible a divine skill, how deep a blood feud, emperors and generals—all return to dust.'

Feng Yi raised his eyebrows: 'Great master, your divine ability is astonishing, yet you are empty and unattached—why bother with worldly affairs?'

Having arrived in the Tianlong world, Feng Yi had no debts of gratitude to repay, no ethnic concerns to worry about, and no need to exert himself—he was simply in a playful mood.

He thought back to his previous life, when many had said that if the sweeping monk did not appear, the Xiao father and son could still kill the Murong father and son and Zhi Mozhi; Feng Yi thus wanted to witness it himself.

Therefore, having Xiao Feng regain his inner strength outside the Shaolin Temple to face the great battle refers precisely to this moment.

At this moment, outside the Sutra Pavilion, he confronted the sweeping monk, intending only to hold him back so he could not intervene, allowing the five to fight it out and decide their life or death.

He had long failed to dispose of the Murong father and son and Zhi Mozhi, and this idea of his was closely related to that.

Who would have thought that at the critical moment, this old monk suddenly gathered his energy and shouted loudly, swinging his broom; a mighty, vigorous force surged toward his face, and Feng Yi retreated slightly, blocking with a palm.

The old monk immediately slipped into the pavilion, stopping the few from fighting, which genuinely disappointed Feng Yi.

This scene also made him realize that, in the original plot, the old monk had never exerted his full strength.

He had just been in a panic, wanting to separate the few, not seeking to exert overwhelming force lightly, and not knocking over a book on the shelf; the power he erupted with was simply terrifying to the extreme.

Such power had indeed reached the profound level of 'if the enemy is strong, I become strong; if the enemy is weak, I become weak; I counter in accordance with the situation.'

The old monk calmly said: 'What emptiness and non-attachment? My forefather's subtle teachings and the recorded insights of generations of eminent monks are all here; how could it become a place for a few to act recklessly and brawl anonymously? If anything were damaged, how could the old monk bear responsibility?'

'I understand!' Feng Yi nodded: 'The so-called Bodhi is originally without a tree, the bright mirror likewise not a stand. Originally there is nothing; where could dust arise? This is the utmost of the Buddhist teaching of emptiness.'

'Unfortunately, the realm of the Sixth Patriarch Huineng is beyond others; the godlike monk appears to sweep the ground, but in fact sweeps the mind—this is the realm of the Great Master Shenxiu.'

In his previous life, Feng Yi had heard people say the sweeping monk was someone from the Xiao Yao Sect or the Murong family; now he could confirm it was pure nonsense. The sweeping monk personally said 'my forefather,' etc. —how could he be an outsider?

If one believed the Xiao Yao Sect or Murong family's claim and called the Shaolin monks 'my forefather,' that would be another matter altogether.

The old monk, hearing Feng Yi's words, was slightly moved: 'Layman Feng, your Buddha-nature is lofty!' He nodded: 'Although Master Shenxiu lost to the Sixth Patriarch, to us, our body is the Bodhi tree, our mind the bright mirror stand; we must constantly wipe away dust, letting none remain—this is the way to attain the Dao.'

Feng Yi inclined his head: 'Great master, your lofty words! Surely you know why I have come today?'

The old monk replied: 'You, who have mastered both the orthodox and heterodox Buddhist teachings, are invincible in the present age; you have come to Shaolin this time for me.'

Feng Yi smiled: 'I merely do not know how you could know that I would come to find you.'

The old monk said: 'Just now, at the foot of Mount Shaoshi, I have taken in everything with my eyes—whether the rights and wrongs between the Xiao father and son and the Murong father and son, or the layman's intention, I already know.'

Feng Yi's heart raced like ten thousand horses galloping; he thought, 'This old fellow really knows how to put on a mystical act!' Yet his face bore a faint smile as he said: 'So that's it—you scared me to death; I thought a master of such stature would also engage in petty theft.'

Originally, Feng Yi had subdued Murong Fu down the mountain, saying he came to the Shaolin Temple to examine someone's martial prowess; the old monk, with his keen eyesight, upon seeing Feng Yi's skill, realized no one in Shaolin could match him, so the person in question was obvious; he then stared directly at Feng Yi and voiced his inner doubt: 'Layman, how did you come to know of me?'

Feng Yi gave a slight smile: 'Want to know?' He raised both palms: 'Tell me after you beat me!'

Palm force surged forth like a mountain; the old monk blocked with a palm, saying 'Not in a hurry!' Who would have thought that Feng Yi's palm power, midway, suddenly veered, going around his palm and straight for his chest.

'White Rainbow Palm Power!' the old monk exclaimed in surprise, turning his body slightly: 'Are you from the Xiao Yao Sect?' As he spoke, a hissing sound was heard.

Feng Yi felt that a foot in front of the old monk's body seemed to form a soft wall, shielding him within, while his own palm power brushed past.

At that very moment, a strong wind swept violently, the books in the hall rustling loudly; the Xiao father and son, the Murong father and son, and Zhi Mozhi, though near the walls, felt the walls themselves shaking.

Feng Yi was about to exert his strength when he suddenly heard the old monk sigh and say: 'Layman Feng, having gained your favor, I will not disappoint you; for now, please cease hostilities.'

Feng Yi glanced at Xiao Feng and the others, withdrew his palm power, shook his head and sighed: 'Great master, you are a present-day divine monk, Buddhist teachings penetrating the heavens; yet their grudges, even if temporarily resolved, may still leave lingering obsessions.'

In my view, drive them to the back mountain and let those few old, weak, sick, disabled lunatics fight to the death.

You and I here discuss martial arts and the Dao; when they finish, we ought to collect the corpses, collect the corpses, perform the rites, perform the rites—that's all; why hinder our cultivation?

Upon hearing this, Xiao Feng and the others were all moved—some felt panic in their hearts, others wore solemn expressions.

The old monk sighed: 'Since you, Layman, have seen that I constantly cleanse my mind, you naturally know that dust still remains within; Xiao Feng, benefactor Xiao, inspires genuine respect—a true hero, deserving of such praise; the old monk ought to do something for him, after all.'

Xiao Feng heard and was stunned.

But Feng Yi said: "The master is right; aside from Xiao Brother, the other four wouldn't be a pity even if they died."

Just do this: you send away Kumozhi, then it's two versus two between fathers and sons, fair and square, no cheating anyone!

Kumozhi: "......"

He first hardened.

His fists hardened, and the veins on his face and hands also showed. (End of chapter)