Chapter 49: Plotting Against the Four Evils

After a brief moment of shock, Su Xinghe retrieved a coffin from a side room of the thatched cottage.

“It seems Master and the others had prepared for this!”

Looking at the coffin, its lacquer still gleaming yet clearly aged, Zhang Jie sighed.

Zhang Jie drew upon knowledge shared with him from the Water Margin Zhang Jie,

and together with Su Xinghe and Xue Muhua, they laid Wu Yasheng to rest, then constructed a simple altar using yellow paper,

bamboo harvested on-site, incense, and candles.

“Master’s uncle, shall I go summon the other senior brothers?”

After finishing the urgent matters, Xue Muhua asked Zhang Jie for instructions.

“Go.”

Zhang Jie spoke, having just offered three sticks of incense to Wu Yasheng.

He and Su Xinghe must stay to keep vigil; they cannot leave the mountain for now.

“Senior nephew, wait.”

As Xue Muhua was about to descend the mountain, Zhang Jie called out to him.

“Uncle, what else do you command?”

Xue Muhua asked.

“When you go down, use your connections to deliver a message for me.”

Zhang Jie spoke slowly, a glint of sharpness flashing in his eyes.

“May I ask, Uncle, to whom and where should I deliver it?”

Xue Muhua assumed Zhang Jie meant to send a letter and asked.

“I don’t know the place. I don’t know the person.”

Zhang Jie replied.

“This…”

Xue Muhua was puzzled.

How could he deliver a message if he didn’t know where or to whom?

At this moment, Su Xinghe, who had spoken little until now, spoke up:

“Your uncle gave this order for a reason. Just follow it.”

He knew his younger brother was deeply mysterious, seemingly aware of many hidden secrets.

But what of it?

No matter Zhang Jie’s past, he was now the third-generation leader of the Xiaoyao Sect.

As disciples of the Xiaoyao Sect, they must stand firmly by Zhang Jie’s side.

“Yes.”

Xue Muhua bowed respectfully.

Watching this, Zhang Jie sighed inwardly: compared to himself, who had only just become leader hours ago,

Xue Muhua clearly trusted Su Xinghe—the master who had been like a father—more deeply.

Yet Zhang Jie was not angered. He was an outsider appointed as leader.

For Xue Muhua to obey him so faithfully just now was already more than enough.

As for the future, once he demonstrated his talents, Xue Muhua and the others would surely follow his lead.

But what talents did Zhang Jie possess?

In the Jianghu, having sufficient strength was the greatest talent of all!

“Muhua, I want you to spread one phrase throughout the Jianghu:

Outside the Tianlong Temple, beneath the Bodhi tree, a beggar is filthy, the Guanyin has long hair.”

Zhang Jie told Xue Muhua the message he was to deliver.

“Tianlong Temple?

Does this matter concern the Dali Duan clan?”

Xue Muhua speculated inwardly upon hearing this.

He was no ignorant commoner ignorant of Jianghu affairs.

On the contrary, as a master physician, he knew every Jianghu faction intimately.

Tianlong Temple was the ancestral temple of the Dali imperial Duan family,

and several Dali emperors had even become monks there.

The Duan family of Dali had remained unshaken despite the watchful eyes of powerful ministerial clans like Yang and Gao,

and ethnic conflicts among the Bai, Han, and others—Tianlong Temple’s role was indispensable.

For instance, the current abbot of Tianlong Temple, the Kuru Chan Master, was a renowned top-tier Jianghu expert.

If he abandoned compassion and resolved to carry out an assassination,

all factions in Dali would choke on the thought, unable to swallow.

Moreover, like other great temples, Tianlong Temple had the tradition of maintaining warrior monks.

Though the monks daily chanted sutras and ate vegetarian meals, at critical moments,

hundreds of them, as formidable as elite soldiers, could transform into wrathful golden guardians to protect the Duan family.

Given the bond between Tianlong Temple and the Duan clan, Xue Muhua wouldn’t be surprised if hundreds of suits of armor and crossbows were hidden within the temple.

“Go.”

Zhang Jie offered no explanation, waving him off to carry out his task.

“Yes.”

Xue Muhua departed on his mission.

“Duan Yanqing, come willingly into my bowl.”

Zhang Jie watched Xue Muhua’s retreating back, a faint smile curling at his lips.

Xue Muhua’s guess was correct—he had set his sights on someone tied to Tianlong Temple.

More precisely, someone once tied to Tianlong Temple: Duan Yanqing, former master of the temple.

Duan Yanqing was originally the crown prince of the Dali Kingdom, but after a civil uprising, he was exiled when the traitorous minister Yang Yizhen seized power.

Due to his identity, he was hunted by many, eventually struck by multiple blades,

surviving but with his face destroyed, legs crippled, reduced to speaking only through abdominal voice.

He then trained relentlessly in his family’s martial arts, eventually becoming one of the top warriors of the Western Xia’s Yipin Tang, despite his disabilities.

After mastering his skills, he began a furious revenge against those who had hunted him,

earning the nickname “Evil to the Brink” for his cruel methods.

Later, he encountered the other three evil men: “Utterly Wicked” Ye Erniang,

“Fierce Demon” Yue Lao San, and “Utterly Ruthless” Yun Zhonghe,

and using his strength, brought them all under his command, becoming the leader of the Four Evils.

When Duan Yanqing was hunted, with no path to heaven and none to earth,

his crippled body became that of a beggar, hiding beneath a Bodhi tree at Tianlong Temple.

At that time, Dao Bai Feng, wife of Dali’s Prince of Zhen Nan, Duan Zhengchun, was enraged by

Duan Zhengchun’s endless philandering and constant pursuit of women.

Driven by revenge—“If you seek women, then I shall seek men”—

Dao Bai Feng deliberately spent one night with the beggar Duan Yanqing.

This was the origin of the phrase: “Outside the Tianlong Temple, beneath the Bodhi tree, a beggar is filthy, the Guanyin has long hair.”

Zhang Jie was confident this phrase would draw Duan Yanqing to him.

For Duan Yanqing, that night’s Dao Bai Feng had been his Guanyin Bodhisattva:

At the time, Duan Yanqing had nearly lost the will to live, ready to die,

until Dao Bai Feng rekindled his dead heart.

For years, Duan Yanqing had searched for his “Guanyin Bodhisattva.”

Unfortunately, Dao Bai Feng had deliberately avoided him, leaving him empty-handed for years.

Once Duan Yanqing received this message, he would inevitably come to him,

and Zhang Jie could then seize the decades of cultivation he had poured into his One Yang Finger internal energy.

Duan Yanqing was evil to the brink, reviled by all in the Jianghu,

so Zhang Jie would feel no guilt taking his internal energy.

Not to mention that capturing Duan Yanqing would also bring him Ye Erniang, Yue Lao San, and Yun Zhonghe!

Buy one, get three free—how cost-effective!

Of course, all this depended on having sufficient strength to suppress the Four Evils.

Otherwise, instead of catching the fish, he’d be killed by it—and that would be laughable.

…

That night, while keeping vigil for Wu Yasheng, Zhang Jie slipped away quietly into the shared space.

“Huh? Why are you alone? Where’s the Water Margin Zhang Jie?”

As the Tianlong Zhang Jie entered the shared space, he found only the Yitian Zhang Jie present—Water Margin Zhang Jie was gone.

"Oh. You mean Water Margin Zhang Jie? He’s been taking the provincial exam lately."

"He hasn’t shown up these past few days, saying he needs to rest well and conserve his energy."

Responded Zhongtian Zhang Jie, sitting cross-legged.

"I see," nodded Tianlong Zhang Jie.

"Everyone’s here!"

At that moment, Water Margin Zhang Jie’s voice reached the ears of Zhongtian Zhang Jie and Tianlong Zhang Jie.

"Hey! Speak of the devil and he shall appear!"

Exclaimed Zhongtian Zhang Jie, delighted.

"Water Margin, did you finish your provincial exam?" asked Tianlong Zhang Jie.

"Yes. The provincial exam ended today. I thought I’d come see you both."

Water Margin Zhang Jie looked relaxed.

Even for someone with internal energy, taking the provincial exam left him mentally drained.

"How did it go?"

Zhongtian Zhang Jie asked nervously.

What was that saying again?

Exams, exams—the teacher's secret weapon; scores, scores—the student's lifeline.

In the Song Dynasty, this was an absolute truth.

Aside from the imperial examination system, which could lift a peasant from the fields to the emperor’s hall—“By morning a country lad, by night a minister of state; generals and ministers aren’t born, sons must strive”—

the Song offered no other path for social mobility except rebellion.

And compared to the lifelong toil of studying classics, rebellion carried a terrible cost—execution of the entire nine clans.

Although Water Margin Zhang Jie no longer had to rely solely on the imperial exams as he once did,

they had still been his primary goal for the past decade and more, and achieving them was naturally best.

"Relax, relax, everything went smoothly."

Water Margin Zhang Jie gave an OK sign.

The chief examiner’s questions for this provincial exam were standard,

not obscure at all—just straightforward passages from the Four Books and Five Classics.

With his photographic memory and quick mind, he felt ideas gush forth like a spring, his pen flowing like a burst dam.

"That’s good," sighed Zhongtian Zhang Jie, relieved.

Still, he thought it should be this way: though the provincial exam was important,

it was still less critical than the metropolitan or palace exams, so questions couldn’t be too obscure.

"Tianlong, why aren’t you speaking?"

At that moment, Zhongtian Zhang Jie noticed Tianlong Zhang Jie, usually so lively, had been silent, his mood low.

Thoughtful Water Margin Zhang Jie spotted the white cloth tied around Tianlong Zhang Jie’s waist,

and he seemed to understand what had happened: "Wu Yashu passed away?"

Zhongtian Zhang Jie suddenly realized:

White cloth around the waist, white cap on the head, hemp clothing on the body—this was called "wearing mourning," worn only when a close relative died.

And Tianlong Zhang Jie, who had spent over a decade as a beggar, shared the same outlook: when he held out his bowl, it was a family reunion; when he took a selfie, it was a family portrait; one full belly meant no one went hungry.

So the only person who could be called Tianlong Zhang Jie’s relative,

and who would warrant him wearing mourning, was none other than Wu Yashu—the master he had to pay homage to.

"Yes," replied Tianlong Zhang Jie, still sorrowful.

"Forget it. Let’s share first!"

Water Margin Zhang Jie, unable to fully empathize, proposed something they could all share.

Zhongtian Zhang Jie and Tianlong Zhang Jie naturally had no objections.

The three clasped hands, instantly completing the most fundamental and vital act of the shared space.

"Sigh! Even though I expected it, actually facing this day still hurts."

Said Water Margin Zhang Jie.

The three shook hands, instantly completing the most fundamental and important task of the shared space.

Zhongtian Zhang Jie also sighed.

Grief-stricken, he even ignored the Beiming Qi he once valued most.

The low-spirited Zhang Jies chose to end the meeting, returning each to their own world.

"Sigh~"

Yi Tian Zhang Jie also sighed.

Sad and downcast, he even neglected the Northern Darkness Qi, once his most prized cultivation.

With low spirits, the Zhang Jies chose to end the meeting and returned to their respective worlds.