Chapter 46

Benyin sighed: “This...”

Zhao Ti said: “I’ve spent several days with Master Benyin and grown familiar with all of you, feeling as if we’ve known each other for ages—so I dare speak out bluntly. If your temple truly faces hardship, I’m willing to lend a hand.”

Benyin’s expression grew thoughtful; after a moment, he said: “We’ve spoken much of martial arts these past days, Master Zhao, but I still don’t know just how strong your Wu Gong is.”

Zhao Ti’s lips curled slightly: Among the five monks of Tianlong Temple, excluding Kurong, the other four were roughly equal to Duan Yanqing.

Taking Bao Ding Emperor Duan Zhengming as the benchmark, Duan Yanqing’s internal energy was profound, but Duan Zhengming’s actual combat prowess surpassed Duan Yanqing’s—and even that of the four monks. This was proven when he fought Jiumozhi : when both Benxiang and Duan Zhengming blocked Jiumozhi ’s Flame Blade, Duan Zhengming remained unharmed, while Benxiang spewed blood violently.

In these past days, Zhao Ti had not slackened in his training; his Illusion Yin True Qi and Kuihua True Qi had advanced further, nearing the fifth level. If he now faced Duan Yanqing and the South Sea Crocodile God together, he would crush them utterly—and killing them would not be out of the question.

He said: “My martial path... is no weaker than Masters Benshen and Xiang.”

Benyin’s face grew grave. His four brothers were evenly matched; if Zhao Ti claimed to be no weaker than Benshen and Xiang, then he was claiming equality with him. And one usually spoke humbly of one’s own martial skill—perhaps his true strength was even greater.

Although he’d come to know Zhao Ti as no empty talker during their days together, he couldn’t help saying: “Master Zhao, martial arts cannot be exaggerated. Your noble status as a royal of Great Song—if harm came to you because of this, it would be disastrous.”

Zhao Ti smiled: “Master Benyin, do you wish to see, or to test?”

“This...” Benyin chuckled awkwardly: “A small display would suffice for this old monk to witness—no need for a test.”

Zhao Ti smiled lightly, raised his hand, and pointed toward the window ahead. A faint, dark, nimble sound rang out; his fingertip force shot forth, instantly punching a hole through the window lattice.

“Ah?” Benyin was stunned: “Master Zhao, what kind of fingertip art is this? Is it the Flower-Plucking Fingertip, the Infinite Eon Fingertip, or the Dharani Leaf Fingertip?”

He judged the fingertip aura to be entirely unlike One Yang Fingertip, so he guessed among the famed fingertip techniques of the world.

Zhao Ti shook his head and smiled: “Master Benyin, you jest. All those you mentioned are Shaolin arts—I’ve never set foot in Shaolin, so how could I know them? This is my family’s inherited Wu Gong.”

“I’m ashamed.” Benyin clasped his palms: “Seeing your fingertip strength, I was so startled I forgot this fact—I admit your fingertip skill surpasses mine.”

Zhao Ti said: “Now, can you tell me of the trouble you’re facing?”

Benyin sighed: “Actually, there’s nothing secret about it. You’re a royal of the Great Song, not a member of the martial world—there’s no risk in you hearing it.”

Zhao Ti smiled: “Exactly. The friendship between the Great Song and Dali is one of court and state—how can the martial world compare?”

Benyin nodded: “Exactly. Then I’ll tell you, Master Zhao. Since you revere the Buddha, have you heard of the Great Snow Mountain Great Wheel Temple in Tibet?”

Zhao Ti said: “I know of it. Its sect spreads in the western regions, never entering the Central Plains.”

Benyin said: “Since you know of it, I can speak plainly. The Great Wheel King, Jiumo Zhi, of the Great Wheel Temple, has profound Buddhist wisdom and extraordinary martial prowess...”

Zhao Ti listened quietly to the end; it matched his memory exactly, except Benyin had omitted the name “Six Meridians Divine Sword,” referring to it only as the temple’s supreme art.

He frowned: “Jiumo Zhi is too arrogant. Though Dali has never been a vassal of Great Song, both are lands of splendor and renown. How dare a monk from a remote, uncivilized land do such a thing? It’s an outrageous insult!”

Benyin agreed wholeheartedly. Dali had sent eleven tribute missions to Great Song, seeking vassal status—each time rejected—but Dali had always taken pride in emulating Great Song: using Han characters, reading Han texts, composing poetry and lyrics, and branding itself as a land of refinement.

“Master Zhao speaks truly—this Great Wheel King is utterly unreasonable!”

Zhao Ti nodded: “Then I offer my aid to Tianlong Temple.”

Benyin said: “Master Zhao, this is Tianlong Temple’s internal matter...”

Zhao Ti said: “Great Song and Dali are one family in the end. If it’s family business, how can you refuse help?”

Benyin thought for a moment: “Master Zhao, I must consult with Master Kurong first. Your status as a royal of Great Song—if anything were to happen to you in Dali, this...”

Zhao Ti said: “Go ahead, Master Benyin. Please tell Master Kurong—even if he hesitates, I’ve already decided to help.”

Seeing Zhao Ti’s resolve, Benyin hurried off to the Moni Hall to meet Kurong. Zhao Ti sat in his chair, lost in thought.

Aside from the five monks of Tianlong Temple, the only true expert Dali could muster was Bao Ding Emperor Duan Zhengming. Duan Zhengchun and the rest of the ministers and guards were no match.

Whether Duan Zhengming would even bring Duan Yu to Tianlong Temple for treatment was uncertain—after all, I had altered the events at Langhuan Fudi, and Mu Wanhui had been with me all along.

If Duan Zhengming didn’t bring Duan Yu, Tianlong Temple was unlikely to seek him out. Though the Six Meridians Divine Sword was precious, compared to the fate of Dali’s throne and state, it was trivial. The old monks knew well what was weighty and what was light. If Duan Zhengming were harmed, the court would destabilize—and then Tianlong Temple, its supreme arts, all would become illusions.

After a long while, Benyin returned, his face bright with joy: “Master Zhao, Master Kurong requests your presence.”

Zhao Ti rose and left the meditation hall, following Benyin through Wuwu Jing, past the Doushui Bodhisattva Courtyard, then the Yuhua Courtyard, finally arriving at the Moni Hall.

Inside, he saw Benshen, Xiang, and Guan all present, along with another withered old monk who turned to look at him.

Zhao Ti studied the old monk—he knew this must be Kurong. Kurong’s martial skill was far beyond the other three monks.

The old monk bowed and intoned: “Master Zhao, I am Kurong. I’ve just heard from Benyin of your origins and your offer to aid Tianlong Temple?”

Zhao Ti clasped his palms: “I too revere the Buddha. I cannot stand Jiumo Zhi’s demonic conduct. And since Great Song and Dali are bound in court, I must lend aid when the moment calls.”

Kurong’s gaze fixed sharply on Zhao Ti: “Master Zhao, this matter is perilous. You are a noble royal of Great Song. What do you ask in return for aiding Tianlong Temple?”

Zhao Ti smiled—he hadn’t expected the old monk to be so direct.

Beside him, Benyin said: “Master Zhao, if you have any demands, speak them. Master Kurong can decide.”

Zhao Ti shook his head: “I hadn’t thought of anything—how could I decide on the spot?”

“This...” Benyin glanced at Kurong, who showed a flicker of doubt.

Zhao Ti smiled: “No need for conditions. I won’t ask for the techniques Jiumo Zhi demands, nor for gold, silver, or jewels, nor for a single scroll or object from Tianlong Temple.”

Benyin’s eyes lit up again as he looked to Kurong, who chanted a Buddha’s name: “Master Zhao acts with righteousness—this old monk was overly suspicious. Master Zhao, please sit and let us discuss this in detail.”