Chapter 117: The Beggar Monk

"Mr. Xu, you misunderstand. I just returned from the schoolhouse. Come to think of it, Sister Liu taught me a new play today; I shall sing it for you later."

Xu Qing walked in front while Xiuniang drifted alongside. Seeing him keep his eyes fixed straight ahead, Xiuniang darted in front of him, facing him, and swayed backward while walking.

Before his eyes, the female ghost's hair, like a cascading waterfall, danced in the air, and her white dress with flowing water-sleeves fluttered. She looked as if she were terrified that others might not know she was a ghost!

Seeing the female ghost becoming increasingly brazen, Xu Qing narrowed his eyes and said firmly, "Hold out your hand!"

Xiuniang was confused, but when she saw him pull out a smooth, oily stick, she finally realized what was happening.

"A good ghost does not block the path. When walking in the world, one must remain inconspicuous and act like an ordinary person. Otherwise, fortune will flee, and disaster will arrive!"

Xiuniang finally settled down completely. She stopped drifting back and forth and followed obediently behind him.

The female ghost walked without a sound. After a long while, Xu Qing heard no movement. He turned his head and saw her biting her lip shyly, her thoughts clearly drifting elsewhere.

Xu Qing frowned deeply. Could this female ghost have some peculiar habit?

Upon returning to the villa, Xiuniang became as happy as a butterfly again. One moment she was holding the newly made shoes to give to Xu Qing, and the next she returned to the weaving room to unfold a Confucian robe of green and white that she had sewn, eager for him to try it on.

"Mr. Xu is a Licentiate; you should wear such elegant clothing."

Looking at Xiuniang, who was carefully adjusting his collar, Xu Qing wondered to himself: did he capture a gate-guarding ghost, or did he hire a housekeeper?

Shaking his head, Xu Qing took out the Chang flag and planted it in the courtyard to absorb the yin-sha, then picked up a shovel to start digging a pit.

Even if he was a Licentiate, he had to do the work of burying corpses himself.

"Mr. Xu, how can you do such manual labor yourself? Let me handle these dirty and tiring tasks!"

Xu Qing straightened his back and raised an eyebrow. "Who says this is dirty and tiring work? Even immortals till the land and find joy in the Dao; you and I hoeing and planting is also a form of cultivation."

Xiuniang blinked, watching Xu Qing toil away, and thought to herself: other people don't plant corpses when they farm!

After burying a few corpses, Xu Qing saw that Xiuniang was idle, so he said, "Didn't you say you learned some new plays from Boss Liu and wanted to sing them for me?"

Xiuniang's spirits lifted immediately upon hearing this.

"What would you like to hear, Mr. Xu?"

Xu Qing buried the corpse of the water-worker Daoist, patted the top layer of soil, and packed it down.

"Sing whichever you are best at."

"Then I shall sing 'Butterfly Dream' for you, Mr. Xu." Xiuniang cleared her throat, covered her face with her water-sleeve, and parted her thin, pink lips. Her light figure and ethereal voice created an effect that no living person could truly replicate.

"I will always remember Mr. Xu's kindness, I will always think of the seclusion of Nanshan, I will miss, the purple bamboo rustling like a moon-hook, the stream light swaying, the house like a boat."

"I will miss, that night which was short but better than a lifetime, the green mountains and flowing water, letting you and me remember only the fate that brought us together, not the grudges."

Xu Qing heard that there was more to the play than met the eye; there were hidden meanings in her words.

Back then, he had gone out specifically to subdue demons and ghosts, but it was only through a twist of fate that he had spared Xiuniang's ghost life.

"Dwelling in the quietude of Nanhua, accompanied by the clear breeze and bright moon, it is perfect for studying and comprehending the mysteries of the Dao. Let the murmuring stream soothe my nature, let the mountain breeze whisper and resolve my confusion, as one merges with the mountains and water, the heart finds peace."

By the time he finished burying the corpses, the number of bodies accumulated in the courtyard was once again nearing a hundred. Moreover, the quality of these corpses was significantly better, and the overall level of yin-sha had risen accordingly.

Xu Qing had a premonition that the Chang General fruit condensed this time might be even more robust.

At this moment, five hundred miles away from Linhe, in Quyang Commandery.

Zhu Huaian, invited by the Commandery Prince of Xuanping, was currently resting within the Commandery Prince's mansion.

The Commandery Prince of Xuanping had never had any close ties with the Changting Prince's mansion, and their interactions were sparse. By all logic, he shouldn't be so hospitable.

As Zhu Huaian was lost in thought, a familiar voice came from outside the room.

"Your Highness has not yet rested?"

Zhu Huaian had his guard open the door, and a scholar of about fifty years old walked into the bedroom.

This man had once been a strategist for the Prince of Changting. In the early years, when the Prince led troops into battle, this man had served as the military advisor who devised their plans.

"We are now living under someone else's roof, like fish on a chopping block. Who knows when the blade might fall? How can I sleep soundly?"

Gongsun Jin frowned and said, "Does Your Highness suspect the Commandery Prince of Xuanping of having ulterior motives?"

Zhu Huaian picked up a brush and began to write and draw on the rice paper.

"Regardless of whether he has ulterior motives, this is not a place to stay for long. Tomorrow, we should leave as soon as possible."

"As for the Prince of Xuanping, you should give instructions later so that everyone does not sleep too soundly. Tomorrow at the Hour of the Ox (1:00 AM – 3:00 AM), before dawn, we shall set off for the northern border."

Gongsun Jin nodded, then looked at the paper where Zhu Huaian had been writing.

"Since when did Your Highness start writing poetry?"

Zhu Huaian laughed. "I am just like my father; how could I write poetry? This is just a bit of doggerel I wrote back when I was wandering with a few close friends."

"Sir, have you heard the poem 'Flying Snow' written by the old Emperor? I was young and impulsive at the time, so I wrote a poem called 'Flying Rain' to mock those imperial poetry collectors. Everyone clapped and cheered back then, but thinking about it now, it's laughable."

Gongsun Jin had some impression of this. Emperor Longping had written countless poems in his life, and only 'Flying Snow' had any real artistic merit, though unfortunately, the finishing touch was not written by the Emperor himself.

The scholar smiled and looked at the poem the Heir Apparent had just written.

"A drop, a drop, and another drop,"

"Two drops, three drops, four or five drops;"

"Falling one after another without cease,"

"Finally washing the mountains and rivers anew."

Gongsun Jin's eyelids twitched. Even at his advanced age, he could not hide the excitement in his heart.

In the past, the Prince of Changting was virtuous and capable, with well-ordered military ranks. In terms of prestige, he had already surpassed Emperor Longping by who knows how much, but the Prince simply refused to take that crucial step.

Now, although the Heir Apparent had the intention of developing in the Northern Frontier, that was merely settling in a corner.

No one knew the exact intentions of Heir Zhu.

Now, seeing this poem, he finally understood the Heir's ambition.

"Although I am old and my mind is dull, as long as Your Highness has made up your mind, I will give my all to assist you, even if it costs me this old life."

Zhu Huaian quickly helped him up. The two looked at each other and were about to speak when they suddenly heard a cry of alarm from outside.

"Assassins!"

As soon as the words fell, the powerful sound of crossbows being triggered echoed throughout the courtyard.

"Thud, thud, thud—"

Inside the residence, several personal guards tackled Zhu Huaian and the scholar to the ground. The next moment, countless arrows pierced the window paper like a violent storm, as if trying to destroy the entire house.

The sounds of fighting outside were deafening, like thunder and lightning.

"Who are you people, daring to raid the Commandery Prince's mansion at night?"

The guard, Yao Shan, heard the commotion outside and said in a deep voice, "It's Old General Duan!"

"General Duan's martial cultivation is second only to the Prince, yet he has no strength to spare to block these arrows. These people are clearly well-prepared; there must be a martial arts expert among them holding the old general back."

"Your Highness, do not hesitate. We must quickly seek the Commandery Prince's protection."

"We cannot seek the Commandery Prince!" Gongsun Jin listened to the fighting outside, his expression extremely heavy.

"Your Highness, this is the Commandery Prince of Xuanping's residence, so why do we hear no movement from within the mansion?"

Zhu Huaian gave a light scoff, as if he had expected this.

"How far have we traveled since leaving Jinmen? They are already so impatient. Forget it, let us proceed according to the original plan. As for the Commandery Prince of Xuanping..."

"We will settle the score with him later!"

A moment later, disciplined death-sworn soldiers broke through the defense line and arrived at the courtyard where Heir Zhu was sleeping.

Before anyone could react, two figures in the west wing broke through the roof tiles, carrying a person and fleeing rapidly toward the north.

"Pursue!"

About ten breaths later, in the now-quiet courtyard, several more figures suddenly appeared, carrying a person and fleeing toward the west.

"Where are you going!"

Several martial arts experts who had been lurking in the shadows chased after them.

Not long after the courtyard returned to silence, the Commandery Prince of Xuanping finally couldn't help but bring his mansion guards to clean up the scene.

Not far from the Commandery Prince's mansion, several assassins mixed in with the team pursuing the Heir suddenly slowed their pace and turned into a nearby alley.

They took off their blood-stained clothes and wound their way to a rented house.

"Zhao Rong will never let this go. Your Highness will have to disguise yourself and travel light from now on."

"This is a helpless measure. Although this method is covert, it is also extremely dangerous. Your Highness must be twelve times more careful."

Zhu Huaian nodded. "Since that is the case, do not call me 'Your Highness' anymore."

After saying this, he suddenly remembered something and asked, "Wang Liang, where are the things I told you to bring?"

Wang Liang, who had been following Zhu Huaian, opened a bundle containing a few tattered monk robes and an alms bowl.

Seeing the items in the bundle, the gray-haired scholar asked in confusion, "This is?"

Zhu Huaian took a razor from the bundle and said ruthlessly, "Our body, hair, and skin are given by our parents; cutting hair is like cutting off one's head. Those rats will never expect me to make such a sacrifice."

"Wang Liang, you shave my head!"

"Your Highness..." Wang Liang came from a poor background, but the Heir before him was of noble blood, so he inevitably hesitated.

Zhu Huaian said unquestioningly, "If one cannot endure small things, one will ruin great plans. The road to the Northern Frontier is long and blocked by mountains. Do you think I can survive the journey?"

"Not to mention the many bandits and villains on the road. Even ordinary people have a hard time traveling such a long distance safely."

"If I dress as I usually do, there is a ninety-nine percent chance I won't make it to the Northern Frontier."

"Only by disguising myself as a poor monk begging for food will I not be targeted by anyone."

Hearing this, Wang Liang no longer hesitated. He drew his sword, cut off his own long hair at the root, and then began to shave the Heir's head.

Seeing this, the scholar also drew his sword and cut off his own hair.

Before long, there were a few dusty, poor monks in the house.

The old monk leaned on a cane, while the little chubby monk held an alms bowl, his face covered in dirt.

There was also a little thin monk carrying pots and pans, looking like a refugee fleeing a disaster.

The old monk, Gongsun Jin, looked at the two little monks before him, unable to see any connection to the Heir at all.

"Master Zhichan, we shall set off tomorrow. From now on, we will head north and enlighten the world."

Gongsun Jin, having shed his scholar appearance, thought for a moment and gave Zhu Huaian and Wang Liang their dharma names.

One was called Shiming, and the other was called Shijing.

(End of chapter)