Chapter 64: Holy Monk 30 (His father has fair skin and good looks, can he fight?)

Holy Monk 30 (His father has fair skin and good looks, can he fight?)

The milk powder will become popular on the grassland, which Jiang He did not expect.

It is unclear where the claim comes from, but the Hu people on the grassland actually think milk powder is more nutritious than fresh cow's milk, because milk powder concentrates the essence of milk.

So, families on the grassland with the means produced a lot of milk powder, and clever people started a milk‑powder business, helping to process milk into powder.

Jiang Siyin and his companions went to see, and found the trade especially booming, booming to the point that the Hu boss and those Central Plains merchants teamed up; the Hu boss wants to buy large quantities of ceramic jars from the Central Plains to hold milk powder.

These ceramic jars need to be brought over by the Central Plains merchants.

"When the weather is hot, milk left for half a day will spoil, but milk powder is different; it can be stored for a long time."

"Exactly. Every time I smell the milk that has gone sour, it's neither drinkable nor undrinkable; seeing it wasted makes me feel extremely distressed."

Akeshan saw his mother also carrying a bucket of milk over, gave the milk to the Hu boss, and then handed over the jars to fill with milk powder.

The process of converting the milk into milk powder went incredibly smoothly, finished in the blink of an eye.

Not only Akeshan's family, many Hu women also do it this way.

Akeshan couldn't help but sigh: "Our cows can milk a large bucket of milk each day. If we made milk powder ourselves, it would be too little, waste cow dung, and we can't store several buckets to process later; the hot weather won't preserve it. Having someone run a milk‑powder business is truly wonderful."

"My family too," the other companions said, also quite pleased. "Yogurt is sour; I don't like it. With milk powder I can eat several spoonfuls at once."

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His father said milk powder is for soaking—never mind, eating the powder directly isn't a problem; it's just like eating candy.

The shrewd milk‑powder merchant also sold the powder to Central Plains merchants.

Supervisor Zhang hesitated over this business for a while; now wool prices have risen, and he can't skip buying it. If he also buys milk powder, the profit from this trip will be reduced.

"This is goat milk powder, a bit pricier than cow milk powder," the Hu boss said, straining to recall Master Xuanji's words. "Master Xuanji said goat milk powder is closest to human milk, best for infants, helps them grow tall and strong! As for cow milk powder, adults and children can have it, especially the elderly—it's the best for supplement… what?"

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The Hu boss thought for a long time, then said uncertainly: "I think it's said to be good for the legs and feet? Like bone broth? The most bone‑nourishing."

Supervisor Zhang muttered to himself, "Master, I know milk powder is a good thing, but can't you keep it private? Why tell the Hu? Now they've priced it so high."

As a renowned high monk of Great Celebration, Master Xuanji's reputation still carries great authority.

He is the Child‑Sending Guanyin, who understands children best; he said milk powder is good for kids, so it must be beneficial!

After the spring caravan departed, the grassland's various tribes lit campfires at night, singing and dancing in celebration.

Now not only wool, even the milk of cows and sheep can earn money; life is truly getting better.

"This year we'll raise more cattle and sheep," the Hu people said, happily chatting while eating meat and drinking wine.

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The people around echoed, "Right, raising horses isn't cost‑effective; they eat a lot and need good feed, costing money and effort."

Especially warhorses, they're even harder to raise; they require premium beans that even people can't afford, so the horses must be prioritized.

At this moment the Hu leadership has not yet grasped the thoughts of the lower Hu; they are still delighted that there is another item to sell on the grassland.

The eldest prince was especially pleased, because the milk‑powder merchant is his subordinate; he also gets a share of the milk‑powder profits, and being sensible, he gave his father‑emperor a ten‑percent cut.

Just as the eldest prince was taking this season's profit to give to the Old Chanyu, the third prince entered the royal tent.

The third prince rushed in and asked, "Father, when will we train troops? It's been two years since we went to Great Celebration to fight the autumn wind."

The Old Chanyu's face, who had been happily counting money with the eldest son, suddenly darkened: "The tribe has no time now."

Now everyone is busy raising cattle and sheep, making milk powder, and harvesting black‑feather grass.

Black‑feather grass grows quickly; if not harvested promptly it ages. Last winter, thanks to the black feathers, the cattle and sheep didn't starve. The most important ingredient in the master's winter feed formula that prevents livestock from losing flesh is black‑feather grass; everyone knows its benefits and tends to it carefully when planting.

The third prince, being impatient, said, "Father, the lower‑rank tribespeople are being foolish; we royalty cannot be foolish! What can we lack for a campaign against the autumn wind? Gold, silver, grain are within reach; foolishly planting black‑feather grass is a waste of effort."

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The eldest prince glanced at the Old Chanyu's expression and retorted, "Third brother, your words are wrong! Do you remember how many tribe members died on the grassland two years ago? The population hasn't recovered yet."

The third prince sneered, "All you say is that you're afraid to die, big brother; you're nothing like an immortal warrior!"

He looked at the eldest prince mockingly, truly unable to stand this older brother.

The eldest prince also became angry and immediately wanted to argue it out with him.

The Old Chanyu remained silent, raising his hand to let the two sons go out.

The third son, brainless and impulsive, thought that now the grassland enjoys good times, who would foolishly risk their lives? When we went to the Central Plains to fight the autumn wind, every time it was only because we couldn't survive that we went to the battlefield to fight. Do they really think the tribe isn't afraid of death?

He touched the milk‑powder dividend that his eldest son had brought, confirming that the master truly is the grassland's lucky star; the tribe now focuses on enjoying their good days without risking their lives for plunder.

To be honest, he is a bit intimidated by the Central Plains emperor.

When the Central Plains go to war, they're crazier than the grassland warriors! Oh, and he also has a little brother‑in‑law, a youngster as wild as a madman, who has killed many noble warriors of their tribe; with those two around, attacking the Central Plains is not a good idea.

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The twelve‑year‑old had not yet grown a moustache, with a round face and eyes, fair skin, clean clothes of bright colors, and when he smiled he showed baby‑fat cheeks and small tiger teeth, unlike the dark‑skinned children of the grassland.

The Old Chanyu liked what he saw, took off his own signet ring and gave it to him, kindly saying, "Child, I heard you've been practicing archery; this ring is for you."

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Jiang Siyin did not dare to accept it rashly; he first looked to his father, and after his father nodded, he received the gift.

The Left Minister also generously gave a jade pendant as a greeting gift; although it's a luxury of the Central Plains, the grassland peoples also like it.

Jiang He sat opposite the Old Chanyu.

The grassland custom is to sit on the ground, mainly because there are few trees here to make furniture; those with a little money sit on low platforms, and if you move the small table aside, it becomes a bed at night.

He is a clean‑loving monk, absolutely unwilling to let his own bed become a living room.

So, since the Old Chanyu's tent was large enough, he partitioned it into several small rooms; the Hu people didn't understand well, as they usually all lived together.

The Left Minister laughed, "The snow never stopped in winter; otherwise I'd have gone to see the master earlier. That feed formula is incredible—our cattle and sheep have never lost flesh after eating it! Thanks to the master discovering black‑feather grass, we no longer have to worry about winter feed."

Jiang Si Yin used cow dung to boil water, brewed tea for the three, then put milk powder in a large jar, and poured in the tea water.

Old Chanyu's nose was very sensitive; upon smelling the rich fragrance, he couldn't help but laugh and say, "I don't know why, but this milk powder is even more fragrant than milk; this must be because the essence of milk has been concentrated."

Jiang He fiddled with the prayer beads, his tone calm, "Because the poor monk added sugar to it."

The Left Minister took a big sip of milk tea and was still quite satisfied with Master Xuanji's warm hospitality.

How expensive this sugar must be; surely they don't usually eat it—look at that child's cherished expression as he drinks, his baby-fat little round face taking half a day to swallow a sip, it's pitiful.

Jiang Si Yin: Q^Q waa waa waa, finally able to eat something sweet! His dad said his teeth were about to finish changing, and cavities would be a lifelong issue, so he firmly refused to let him eat too many sweets.

"I don't know how the master came up with the idea of milk powder," Old Chanyu asked curiously.

Whether it's black feather grass, oatmeal, feed recipes, or milk powder…… the Hu people have lived on this land for a thousand years, yet no one discovered there were so many treasures on the grassland.

Jiang He explained, "The poor monk does not raise cattle or sheep; nearby families that raised cattle and sheep often complained that the milk would spoil before it could be made into cheese…… the poor monk thought of turning it into milk powder so it could be stored for a long time."

Jiang Si Yin heard this, his eyebrows involuntarily rose, and he fell into deep thought. His father hadn't spoken the real reason—wasn't it because the two younger brothers in the foster family ate a lot, causing Sang Ya Jie to be overburdened milking sheep every day to feed the children, leaving no time to come study?

Why did his father deliberately conceal Sang Ya Jie's existence? Would it be bad to leave a name at Old Chanyu's place?

If the Chanyu could remember him, wouldn't that be better for Sang Ya Jie?

The child thought while taking a small sip of milk tea, then ate a piece of pastry, narrowing his eyes in satisfaction.

The Left Minister was old; his most beloved grandson happened to be about the same age as Jiang Si Yin. Watching this child happily drinking milk tea, the Left Minister pondered, and when he returned home he also had his grandson drink it, perhaps he too would become fair and handsome.

Who doesn't like a good-looking child? If one's own child grew up like that, one would like him even more.

Old Chanyu praised Master Xuanji once over; he deeply knew how painful it was to see excess cow and goat milk spoil before it could be made into cheese.

Thinking of Master Xuanji's contribution, Old Chanyu gave Jiang Si Yin a box of pearls that could be used as marbles.

By this point, Old Chanyu had raised Master Xuanji's importance by another level, and at the same time gained a deeper understanding of his affection for his son.

Before leaving, Old Chanyu sent over two men and a woman who cooked very well to specifically attend to this father and son.

The master said this violated the rules; monastics are supposed to be detached from worldly desires, how could they indulge in being served?

"You may be detached from worldly desires, but your son is not," Old Chanyu refused to take back the order.

The master is so important, yet he looks as frail as a breeze could knock him over; he has done the grasslands such a great service, and whenever Central Plains people mention him they get angry—what would happen if the master were assassinated?

Thus, two more small tents appeared beside the temple.

Jiang Si Yin couldn't help but wonder, "Why does it require so much mental effort?"

Jiang Si Yin felt the urge to leave the grasslands for the first time.

Yingwu snorted, "You'd better not mention this idea in front of those two Hu people whose names are a hassle to say and think about, or else next year I'll have to offer sacrifices at two graves—quite a hassle."

Another Hu man was called Hala Babage; he spoke relatively well, had good rapport, thick eyebrows and big eyes, fitting the grassland aesthetic, and was popular with the girls.

Yingwu muttered again, "This name is also a headache."

So it's either a dog or a bird—anyway, it's not human, right?

Yingwu immediately snapped, "Watch out, you'll raise a giant baby."

The two Hu men's faces showed difficulty; this demand was too high.

Jiang Si Yin felt that since the temple gained another Hu man, Hala Babage, the number of female worshippers had increased considerably; after all, even if the master was as handsome as a heavenly flower, he could only be admired from afar, unlike this young man who was so approachable.

Jiang He pretended not to notice and continued, "If you don't recognize a character, just ask Batu; the poor monk's disciples from the Central Plains have not only memorized most of the sutras but can also explain them—you only need to memorize a dozen or so scriptures……"

At that time Jiang He was somewhat silent, just as Jiang Si Yin thought his father would refuse, but his father actually agreed outright.

Jiang Si Yin taught them to read and recognize characters while inwardly sneering, "This acting is pretty good—pretending not to know Central Plains characters, as if it were really the case!"

Because he feared alerting the enemy, his actions inevitably became somewhat hesitant.

Jiang Si Yin increasingly felt that the Chanyu harbored ill intentions, placing such talents beside his father was pure waste.

Regarding this, he hesitated for a long time; he actually liked the grassland life, he was by nature a child with low material desires, valuing spiritual and emotional things more, but for his father's sake he felt he should leave here.

With the aid of his detective knowledge, Jiang Si Yin discovered that Wulaga Jina was always sneaking glances at his father's prescriptions.

Given the current situation, he didn't think the Chanyu would generously allow his father to leave; those two Hu men were respectful in front of his father, but if they knew his father wanted to leave, they would surely turn into killing gods.

He was clearly a genius; that dead bird must be jealous of his intelligence!

Jiang He without any courtesy handed over the temple's cleaning and hygiene, as well as the vegetable planting and farming outside, to those two Hu men, and even the tasks of greeting and seeing off guests were left to them.

"I say, how can a single parrot have so much strength?" the kid muttered quietly, he would of course find the answer himself, rather than just follow others.

Under Jiang Si Yin's careful probing, he observed that Hala Babage actually could recognize Central Plains characters.

"He's still a child." Jiang He glared at the parrot, "I hope his childhood can be a bit longer."

Jiang Si Yin couldn't help but whisper, "I think he's more like a mynah." Oh no, saying that means he'll have to rack his brains too—what if he accidentally calls him a mynah, how hurtful would that be?

Jiang Si Yin couldn't help but stare dumbfounded.

He realized for the first time that there were actually so many killing methods in this world—truly a challenge for a famous detective, each death requiring a riddle to be solved.

His father's disciples—who among them wasn't a person of exceptional talent—how could it possibly fall to two Hu spies!!

What a coincidence! He actually understands Central Plains characters!

Yingwu gave a dead‑fish stare, "Hehe, a twelve‑year‑old child."

Jiang Si Yin also showed a smile, although he faintly felt something was off, just as his companions said—does Old Chanyu really value his father that much?

The child compared the physiques of those two Hu hulks and his father's; adults just care about face—his father is fair-skinned and handsome, a bit lacking in martial prowess doesn't matter much.

Yingwu flew over and slapped the child's round, chubby cheek with one wing, "Idiot, observe for yourself—don't just believe what others say!"

Yingwu muttered, "This name is such a mouthful."

Jiang Si Yin couldn't help but rejoice—his father was indeed clever; since he couldn't refuse outright, he'd refuse in a roundabout way, and no one could say anything, after all monks are supposed to know how to chant sutras!

Jiang Si Yin began observing the two Hu men.

Thus, Jiang Si Yin also had more time to play and to teach his companions medical knowledge.

One of the Hu men was called Wulaga Jina; his mouth was clumsy, he didn't like to talk, appearing honest and simple, efficient in his work—after he arrived, his father never mentioned fetching water again, and the kitchen's dry cow dung for fuel was always full.

Hala Babage, you certainly harbor ill intentions—you must have taken a fancy to his father's medical skill, which is why you want to become his disciple.

Jiang He paused, rubbed his son's head, and asked encouragingly, "What do you think?"

To prevent talent from drifting abroad and being used by others, a wise ruler's first thought is to kill them!

Jiang He couldn't help smacking his son's head, "Don't underestimate your father!"

Young Jiang Si Yin didn't understand that if you have no worth, others won't bother to employ you; his world was black and white, he could not tolerate two disloyal people appearing in his family, and if one day the old Chanyu gave the order, those two would surely kill his father without blinking.

The parrot really couldn't stand it, and privately told him many stories about a kid possessed by a death god who went around solving cases and slaughtering everywhere.

If they really came to blows, he could knock out a big guy with a single punch, without breaking a sweat.

As a result, he not only didn't fall ill from being waited on by three people like a young master, but he trained martial arts even more diligently.

Jiang Si Yin's cheek hurt slightly from being slapped.

Thinking about the various ways to kill people in the parrot's stories, Jiang Si Yin grew more and more afraid.

Jiang Si Yin's face changed instantly.

What a coincidence—among so many Hu people, those who can read Central Plains script all ended up in his household.

Jiang Si Yin tugged at his father's sleeve and whispered, "Father, tell me history tomorrow." Since history books are full of intrigue and scheming, he believed that studying them would surely make him smarter.

Hearing the conversation between this person and bird, Jiang He couldn't help but fall silent.

Jiang Si Yin had once heard his father say that he had taken on two disciples in the Central Plains—one skilled in medicine, who grasped things instantly; the other skilled in cooking, whose vegetarian meals could draw countless pilgrims to the mountain not for the bodhisattva but for his craft.

A warm embrace encircled the trembling child, and a clear voice scolded, "Why are you frightening him? He's still just a child."

With a goal in mind, the two Hu men worked more attentively and meticulously.

Children in ancient times matured early—even a twelve-year-old stone knows to guard against a cousin's vicious strike, but his family's host pampers the child, spoiling him to the point that his emotional and intellectual intelligence have regressed; he's now worse than he was at seven, when at least a seven-year-old knows to guard against a step-grandmother.

In other words, he had already released the water, and would not release the river.

When this child grows a bit older, he will naturally teach him worldly wisdom.

There was also an outer sect disciple who excelled at studying, passing the civil service exam after just a few years of study.

Tsk, those two guys are so tall and sturdy, they could easily beat his frail-looking monk father back and forth ten times without breaking a sweat!

Jiang Si Yin felt that, rather than saying he learned "there's only one truth" or "there's no perfect crime," it was more accurate to say he learned many brain‑torturing methods of killing and disposing of bodies.

He couldn't believe it—a honest‑looking fellow who couldn't even let out a muffled fart with a stick was actually a scholar!

Jiang Si Yin whispered, "If I say, I want to leave the grassland..."

The two Hu men's intentions quickly became clear—they actually wanted to shave their heads and become monks.

He now felt the old Chanyu harbored ill intent—this wasn't about sending people to serve, it was clearly surveillance!

Jiang He's fair, slender fingers ground the ink at an even pace, writing pharmacological knowledge onto the snowy‑white paper.

The two Hu men also set aside their pride and began learning from Jiang Si Yin.

Why is that? Why would his father take on two spies as disciples? Could it be because of the old Chanyu? Since they're on the old Chanyu's territory, perhaps he had no choice.

In Sang Ya's small tribe, most couldn't afford a slave; only the chief's household had slaves, which those companions envied—yet they let warriors attend to them, showing how highly the old Chanyu valued the master.

The two Hu men could only reverently receive the Buddhist scriptures, promising, "We will certainly strive to memorize them."

The parrot told him that his father had once wanted to travel far and wide to see how big the world was, but because the Hu people had saved him, he didn't wish to leave the grassland; his father could only stay there, repaying the Hu's kindness in various ways.

Jiang Si Yin began his career of observation, yet it was no easy task.

Jiang Si Yin deeply agreed—some people have one name that serves as two! Fortunately, both of his names are short.

The parrot believed in punitive education; while teaching Jiang Si Yin to read, it never praised him, causing him to occasionally doubt his IQ, but then, when he passed his knowledge on to Sang Ya and the companions, his confidence would swell again.

The tribe's folk were delighted that the master enjoyed the old Chanyu's favor; three people attended the master, two of them sturdy warriors who looked like they'd been forged through countless tempers, and the old Chanyu was truly generous.

Jiang Si Yin's face almost split open.

Jiang Si Yin's cheeks instantly drooped.

"My disciples all know the Buddhist scriptures by heart," the master said with a serene smile, producing dozens of sutras and handing them to the two Hu men, "If you can memorize these scriptures, I will take you as disciples."

They truly are talents hand‑picked by the Chanyu—whatever is ordered, they carry it out, and together with the cooking woman, they look after the father and son thoroughly in every respect.

Jiang Si Yin muttered, "I feel something's off, but I can't put my finger on it."

Jiang Si Yin understood the giant baby's meaning and couldn't help retorting angrily, "I'm not like that!"

Although he was moved by his father's paternal love, he knew he couldn't act that way.

The parrot flew over and jeered, "That's because you're stupid!"

The parrot wore a pained expression: "Because I have to work hard, or I'll end up calling him a lapdog with a bald beak!"

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