Chapter 54: Holy Monk 20 (Ten Men, Nine Hemorrhoids)

Holy Monk 20 (Ten Men, Nine Hemorrhoids)

The grassland has countless tribes of all sizes, all living in yurts; the nomadic peoples who follow the water do not build houses.

Therefore, the monks and Taoist priests who come to preach also adapt to local customs and stay in yurts.

The Hu woman's mother belongs to the small Jiri Tribe, but a few years ago it was annexed by one of the two great tribes of the grassland, the Ironfull Tribe; it has people in high places and a strong backing. Although when war breaks out these small tribes become cannon fodder first, when there is no war they feel very secure, after all no other tribe dares to bully them.

Emperor Da Qing secretly dispatched twenty to thirty monks and Taoist priests to the grassland; there are about a hundred tribes of all sizes here, not even one priest per tribe is enough to distribute, let alone that many monks and priests who usually travel in groups of senior brothers—such a tiny number would be even less conspicuous on the grassland.

Moreover, the two largest tribes on the grassland now—Ironfull and Black Bear—cannot subdue each other and each wants to swallow the other. The grassland still lacks a wise and capable leader who can unify it; after last year's failed invasion of the Central Plains, many medium and small tribes have grown disloyal, seeking to break away from the two great tribes, and the whole grassland is now in a state of division.

Jiang He and the system both know that this is only temporary.

When the original owner's son, Jiang Siyin, of this generation grows up, the grassland will be unified; with Jiang Siyin's help, the grassland will quickly become strong and eventually launch a direct invasion of the Central Plains.

That will be an extremely brutal war; neither the Central Plains nor the grassland will emerge unscathed.

The Jiri Tribe is too small; the grassland it occupies this year is not lush enough, and in previous years caravans were too lazy to come.

Unexpectedly, a caravan came this year, claiming they wanted to purchase wool.

Wool, being hard to sell, is stored in abundance by the Hu people; when they heard the caravan wanted to buy, they each happily rushed back to fetch it.

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A Hu woman carries over a large basket tightly packed with wool.

She is a little uneasy; previously wool had little use—there wasn't enough for felt, so it was only used for clothing, which, though smelly, kept them warm in winter. In the past Central Plains merchants despised sheepskin coats for their gamey odor and considered them inferior to beast skins, so they scorned buying them. This year they bought, and although the price wasn't high, the volume was large, making it a substantial income.

"Buy!" Supervisor Zhang signals the workers to inspect, "Don't take the dirty ones; the cleaner, the higher the price."

The woman happily takes the copper coins from selling wool to exchange for the merchants' goods; this seemingly worthless wool actually fetched a lot of money, enough to buy several jin of salt and two tea cakes!

"Sir, please wait, my maternal tribe still has wool."

The woman happily returns to her tent with salt and tea cakes; she will go back to inform her maternal tribe to quickly bring more wool for trade.

The stout merchant said they will come again in autumn to collect wool, and the woman calculated that the wool could be sheared once more by then.

Wang Daxing collected wool in other tribes, filling the carts to the brim, and had to promise the Hu people that he would return next time to continue collecting.

This time the goods sold especially fast; when the Hu received the money from selling wool, they bought things very readily, without a blink. Wang Daxing specially came to visit Supervisor Zhang, inviting him to return to the Central Plains together.

Supervisor Zhang's information network knew that the earliest merchants who hauled wool to sell to the capital merchants made a fortune; hearing that Wang Daxing collected a lot of wool, his expression showed no hint of anxiety, confirming his news wasn't slower than his own.

Wang Daxing tentatively asked, "Supervisor Zhang, brother, I truly didn't expect wool to be so valuable; why do the capital merchants buy so much?"

Supervisor Zhang didn't mind letting him know; after all, the news would spread quickly. He pointed to the sky and vaguely said, "We should just buy it."

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He formed a guess about Supervisor Zhang's identity; such an oddball as him is rare, making it easy to speculate.

The upper echelons of the Hu on the grassland also ponder why this year's Central Plains merchants are so strange as to buy wool.

Merchants are profit‑driven, so there must be profit; yet they can't figure out what the Central Plains people actually want. Trying to stop their subjects from selling wool is impossible; in past years, if the grassland didn't sell cattle or sheep, they couldn't trade for Central Plains goods. This year they managed to exchange those otherwise useless wools for salt, sugar, and tea—who would dare forbid that?

The only fear is that once a precedent is set, the tribes could unite and tear him apart.

After Wang Daxing and Supervisor Zhang finished collecting wool, they bid farewell to the Master, both wearing joyful expressions.

Wang Daxing said, "This year's goods are selling faster than before; I'll go back now, purchase a batch immediately, and it will arrive before autumn."

In previous years their goods couldn't sell that quickly; the round‑trip time was tight, so the cargo was smaller. This year is a bumper harvest.

"Master, see you in autumn," Supervisor Zhang said reluctantly, "I wonder if there's anything you desire; I can bring it for you."

Judging by the Master's appearance, he likely won't leave the grassland anytime soon; the living conditions here are harsh. Not to mention, the Master is vegetarian, and vegetables can't be grown on the grassland, making life far tougher than being a monk in the Central Plains.

"Master, do you need dried vegetables and soybeans?" Wang Daxing asked, "Pickled vegetables keep for a long time; I know a place whose sauced vegetables go well with rice."

"Thank you, benefactors," Jiang He said gently, as if he didn't feel the hardship, "I, a poor monk, have planted some vegetables; in a while they will be ready to eat."

Supervisor Zhang and Wang Daxing both showed signs of doubt.

Can vegetables be grown on the grassland? If they truly could, the Hu wouldn't rely so much on Central Plains tea; everyone knows eating more vegetables prevents constipation.

But the Master is so miraculous; perhaps he has a way.

At that moment, a parrot flew over and landed on the Master's shoulder.

It shouted at the traders, "When you come, bring the young master some sunflower seeds and dried fruits!"

Behind it trailed several Hu children, clearly having just played with the parrot and now chasing after it.

"Playing mad?" Jiang He said helplessly, patting its multicolored feathers, "Playing with kids every day, do you want to be the king of children?"

If not explained, one might truly think it's a real bird rather than a system.

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The parrot stretched out a wing, swatted his hand, and hummed, "I won't chant sutras with you; I'm not a monk!"

No matter how remote the host's yurt is, it is still less secluded than Shilan Temple, and the flow of Hu people is overwhelming; the host must maintain the holy monk image, and the pretense would make the system cringe. He refuses to become like a monk; he can fly and wants to let himself soar.

That small request is of course no problem; Supervisor Zhang also thought of that Saker Falcon, "Where's your old partner? Is he on the grassland?"

The parrot replied, "Food is abundant on the grassland now, so of course he's there."

It flew to Supervisor Zhang's side; the benefactor who brought it food, the system still gladly approached so he could admire its splendid feathers.

Thus, Supervisor Zhang entertained the idea of keeping a parrot.

If a parrot as talkative as this were at hand, the trade routes would never be silent.

The parrot lifted its head, beaming proudly, "Hardly, young master; I'm unique, the most beautiful and clever under the heavens, there is no second!"

Supervisor Zhang nodded in agreement; it's a spirit, and he wouldn't dare guarantee he could keep a spirit, he just wants a more ordinary one.

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It is the time of year when the grassland's grass is the greenest; the wind blows the grass low, revealing cattle and sheep, white fluffy sheep dot the meadow like flowers, scattering among the verdant grass.

The sky is clear; a shepherd girl's crisp voice drifts on the wind, and a dark‑skinned Hu man laughs heartily.

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No one could have imagined that early last year, the same Hu people had stormed into Da Qing's lands, committing arson, murder, and plunder.

Not forced by livelihood, everything is this beautiful.

Shu Wu Dan Yu of the Iron Full Tribe felt a rare lightness in his body and personally escorted Xuan Ji out of the tent.

Such a divine doctor and holy monk must be befriended proactively.

Medical practice on the steppe lags behind; Shu Wu Dan Yu fully understands the importance of a highly skilled divine doctor to the steppe. Even if the doctor's identity is questionable, before he does anything they will not readily drive him away from the steppe.

Jiang He pressed his palms together, muttered a Buddha, then gave a medical prescription: "Dan Yu, lately primarily eat fresh vegetables and fruits; under no circumstances eat only meat. This humble monk will return in five days for a follow‑up."

The Crown Prince standing nearby furrowed his brows and asked, "Master, our steppe does not produce vegetables and fruits; can wild greens suffice?"

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In the Hu lands not everyone can eat meat all the time; those who cannot afford meat must eat wild greens, which are so terrible that one wants to accompany the Eternal Sky!

The master smiled gently and calmly, "If Dan Yu does not mind, this humble monk has a recipe for wild greens; the resulting taste is acceptable."

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He thought it unreasonable; wild greens never have good texture, but monks are vegetarians, and their study of plant food is always better than those of us meat‑eaters, perhaps it's worth a try.

A few days earlier, Shu Wu Dan Yu sent someone to request the enlightened high monk Xuan Ji from the Central Plains to treat an illness. At that moment the master was assisting a woman in childbirth; initially a middle‑aged shaman doctor arrived, but the woman was in a difficult labor and the shaman could not help, so they had to summon Xuan Ji.

Master Xuan Ji successfully delivered the woman; mother and child were safe.

When the new life was born on the steppe, everyone could not help but cheer, while the men sent by Shu Wu Dan Yu silently watched from the side.

The strikingly handsome bald monk, whose beauty made the steppe gasp, shared everything openly: he told the excited middle‑aged shaman how to treat such a case, and also instructed the newly‑parented Hu couple on many matters concerning newborn care, how to raise the child healthier and with fewer illnesses.

The men sent by Shu Wu Dan Yu were astonished; such knowledge the shaman might not even be willing to share—could this monk be a saint?

Fact proved that Master Xuan Ji's medical skill, like his character, is worthy of respect.

He had only treated Shu Wu Dan Yu three times, yet Dan Yu's complexion improved greatly.

Upon hearing that, the two princes fell silent at once.

"The weather is fine today; System, shouldn't you be flying? You didn't reach today's flight step count!" Jiang He smiled, pulled the parrot off his shoulder, assumed a discus‑throwing stance, hurled it forcefully, and the parrot again turned into a meteor streaking across the sky.

Having finally been soothed by the System's sincere flattery, Jiang He began to explain to the System why he rescued Dan Yu.

He looked at Dan Yu with admiration; the King was still clever, exchanging a tent for a devoted divine doctor.

The Crown Prince immediately retorted, "Master Xuan Ji just asked the Father Emperor to help find his son; he said before ordination he had a son who wandered onto the steppe, and he came to look for that son, also helping our people tend livestock and treat illnesses. What ill intent could he have?"

Jiang He ignored the System's accusation, sat upright and kept eating fruit.

What shall we do then?

The reason monks and Taoist priests sent by the Central Plains emperor can take root on the steppe is this: in places lacking medical resources, who dares disrespect a doctor?

Sensing the host's murderous aura, the parrot immediately said, "Shu Wu Dan Yu will die next year, right? According to his original trajectory, his death will be rather ignoble—dying from excessive hemorrhoidal bleeding and anemia… Oh dear, my host is truly kind and gentle!"

The Crown Prince glanced, his expression darkening; this was the greatest rival for the throne—his third brother.

The herders sighed, "The embroidered needles of the Central Plains are remarkable; they can stitch clothes and also cure illnesses."

Jiang He performed a clasped‑hands salute and accepted the other party's red fruit.

How many days does a holy monk's single garment need to be worn? By then the monk will surely smell, and can one still call him a holy monk if he smells?

Annoyed by his two sons' quarrel, Shu Wu Dan Yu waved his hand and asked only one question: "Buddhism has always advocated vegetarianism; do you think our people can stop eating meat?"

The parrot muttered curses as it flew back; thank goodness it can fly, otherwise the monk would have committed killing.

A while ago his health faltered; each time he used the restroom he bled. The shaman had told him to eat more wild greens and less roasted meat, but the steppe's wild greens are bitter and unpalatable, and the broth tastes like bitter medicine. He could not endure it, so his condition worsened, eventually leading to deficient vital blood; not yet old, he felt his qi was depleted.

Having healed Shu Wu Dan Yu of the Iron Full Tribe, the host is barely dared upon on the steppe; whether walking sideways or wherever he goes, he is a seated guest of the Hu people, and none dare neglect him.

He ordered, "Eldest son, go build the largest tent for the master; the master will hold a Dharma assembly later, and if the space is small the pilgrims won't fit."

The parrot asked, "What about your head?" Such a bald skull, even if dirtied should be easy to wash, right?

There are too few shaman doctors on the steppe, and their treatments are not that effective. His daughter was relieved of pain after a few fine silver needles were inserted; he told others but no one believed him, until the master used needles to pierce several more, and those people, seeing it with their own eyes, finally believed him.

The Crown Prince hesitated, "Father, I have heard Buddhism emphasizes the emptiness of the four aggregates, doing good deeds and virtuous acts; if… could we be affected?"

Jiang He erupted like thunder, angrily declaring, "I am not a doctor; I am a holy monk!"

When Jiang He returned from the Iron Full Tribe, herders would occasionally greet him.

Shu Wu Dan Yu signaled his two sons to go down.

The wild fruit was very sweet; the master was in a good mood today. The Hu people are very enthusiastic toward those they recognize. If not for civilizational conflict, the nomads' lethality is too great; the master feels he would not mind living among the Hu for a lifetime.

People from the Central Plains only visit temples with a purpose; the herders, having benefited from the monk's treatment, bow twice to the Buddha as thanks, lest the missionaries think they received no gratitude and flee.

"That bald donkey placed a Buddha statue in his tent, and indeed the people went to worship it," the Third Prince said resentfully, "Father, do you not intervene?"

Clearly his mother married Dan Yu when she was young and beautiful, yet the King still clings to a dead man.

The entering Third Prince shouted, "Father, my son has inquired; Master Xuan Ji is known in the Central Plains as the Child‑Delivering Guanyin, and I heard the Central Plains emperor even summoned him to the palace to treat infertility… " His face showed impatience, "He holds such a high position in the Central Plains; why come to the steppe? There must be a plot! Father, quickly send men to kill him!"

Being able to pull it out, the feeling of a painless, non‑bleeding butt is truly wonderful.

He sneered, "Moreover, he just cured the King's stubborn illness, and when his rear foot stepped out of the tent's doorway he was killed; what would others say when they hear? If the King is accused of repaying kindness with vengeance, his reputation will be tarnished, can the third brother bear the responsibility?"

This kind of fruit juice stains clothing so that even washing cannot clean it; his monk robe is now one fewer.

It thinks that accompanying the host on missions, whether it learned anything is irrelevant; the skill of giving sincere flattery is certainly mastered!

Dan Yu took it lightly, feeling his son is still too young.

The master now lives in a tent discarded by the herders—small and shabby. Dan Yu thinks that to favor the master, they must start with the tent; on the steppe, recognizing people also begins with the tent!

Jiang He chuckled, "Then you wash it?"

When the Third Prince opposes something, the Crown Prince always must agree and then harshly refute the Third Prince.

Shu Wu Dan Yu's understanding of Buddhism and Daoism is half‑knowledge; when he was young and saw Buddhist doctrines, he sneered.

In short, the parrot must be beaten!

The Crown Prince thought for a moment and felt the King was right.

The crown prince heard this and couldn't help bursting into laughter: "Third brother, saying you're stupid really is stupid—those Buddhist scriptures of the Central Plains are hardly understood by the common folk there; go out and ask how many of your subjects would believe this nonsense."

The parrot hurriedly comforted, earnestly playing the role of the banished immortal setting, a spotless host almost to the point of mysophobia, and said with sincere concern: "How can a doctor pick patients? Constipation is a disease too! Host, bear with it—nine out of ten men have hemorrhoids; anal trouble is no small matter."

The third prince glared hatefully at the eldest prince; they were born of different mothers. The eldest prince's mother was the Chanyu's first consort, who died in her prime, yet the Chanyu couldn't forget her and doted greatly on the eldest prince.

Under the sunlight, a monk with a holy visage revealed a compassionate smile, saying, "This poor monk has again contributed to world peace."

The cloth for making monk's robes is only available in the Central Plains; he lacked a robe, and if the grasslands rain caused his clothes to stay wet, he would soon have no spare clothing, at which point he'd have to wear the same robe for days…

Next comes an eight‑hundred‑character string of rainbow‑flavored flattery.

The problem is, the host isn't essentially a holy monk—it's just a persona.

Just then, a hurried Hu youth rushed into the tent.

The parrot felt a bit guilty—it hadn't exactly become a monk halfway just to be a parrot, and it still didn't grasp bird table manners well.

"It's just dirtying your clothes!" it said indignantly. "Is it really necessary to throw it out directly?"

He ate wild fruit; the red fruit was juicy and sweet. The parrot snatched one, perched on his shoulder, and gnawed at it.

He knew dozens of monks and Daoists had come to the grasslands, but had the Chanyu ever been nervous? They practiced medicine, which the herders naturally welcomed; as for chanting sutras? Whether Buddhist or Daoist texts, believing in them is bullshit! The grassland folk forever trust only in Eternal Heaven.

On the grasslands you can't grow vegetables or grain; not eating meat means starving to death—how could anyone be that foolish?

The parrot also marveled at its host's luck.

The parrot's nodding head froze; it instinctively covered its queasy stomach and continued to flatter the shameless host.

"Shuwu Chanyu is old, only wants to enjoy himself, his ambition worn down—being Chanyu is still better than the eldest prince or the second and third princes."

Jiang He let out a cold laugh: "Do you know what illness I'm treating? Do you know how hard I'm enduring?!"

"First, as you said, wanting to establish a foothold quickly, there's no better way than through the Chanyu; second, for the grasslands' peace, the eldest prince was born of Chanyu Shuwu's white‑moonlight former consort, young and strong, ambitious and shrewdly capable, while the second prince is innately cruel and the third prince brainless but equally cruel…"

As the wind blew, the grasslands went from resembling an undulating, tumultuous blanket to becoming soft and fragrant.

From now on it must be careful—if the host gets too into the role, that won't be good.

Besides that, in the future the herders will also come to do good deeds, unwilling to go to the Great Qing to scrape a living, or to renounce the world and become monks and such.

After all, he can even cure the Chanyu's illness—who would dare offend such a skilled physician?

"Shaman‑doctor master… oh, no, it's divine‑doctor master." The herder laughed and handed him a handful of wild fruit: "This red fruit is sweet, Master, please try it! Last time my daughter had a stomachache, thank you, Master, for treating her."

The parrot continued to comfort, secretly thinking that even the phrase "old man" had come out—apparently the host's mood was truly irritable, likely due to the original owner's influence, and he was almost about to really regard himself as a holy monk.

Over there, Shuwu Chanyu didn't sense the master's irritability; he took a sip of precious butter tea, feeling blissful.

Shuwu Chanyu looked at his eldest son, his expression unchanged, and said, "Eldest son, you should know that hunger is the greatest stumbling block to faith; a full belly does not speak of good deeds."

"If the eldest prince ascends, his first act will be to unify the grasslands; if the second or third prince does, I fear that this winter they will surely go to the Great Qing to scrape a living… Whether unifying or invading other lands, people will die."

That's why he doesn't want to see anything wrong with a man's anus!

The third prince won't give up so easily, continuing to persuade: "If that bald donkey harbors any ill intent—for example, deceiving our people into believing in Buddhism—that would be a betrayal of Eternal Heaven."

This shows how formidable Master Xuanji's medical skill is; no wonder the Central Plains' emperor holds him in such high esteem.

Parrot: "Domestic violence! Host, you're committing domestic violence! I@￥%&a; …"

"My shoulder isn't a dining table!" Jiang He said coldly and ruthlessly, "From now on you're not allowed to stand on my shoulder when you eat."

Then Jiang He saw his shoulder's clothing stained red by fruit juice. That dead bird, while eating, dropped crumbs and juice, leaving his shoulder covered in residue and juice.

"Not even the head!" Jiang He's face darkened, his hand itching to move, as if he were about to throw an iron disc again.

The system is getting bolder and bolder, constantly testing his endurance; one day it will surely get a sound thrashing.

Master Xuanji is indeed formidable; he even prescribed a formula made of plants unique to the grasslands. After taking it, he felt his hands and feet finally stop being cold, and that sense of weakness disappeared.

The parrot nodded repeatedly; the host's analysis was correct.

Shuwu Chanyu decided to help Master Xuanji find his son; after repaying the favor, he would send people to monitor him, and if the monk harbored no ill intent, he would regard him as the most honored guest on the grasslands.

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