Next to Master Miaoxing’s meditation chamber was a small courtyard where he had planted some tuberose flowers. Those few clumps of hardy tuberose had been trampled by someone unknown. The person who had trampled upon this elegant scene seemed to be heading toward the Sutra Repository. Tang Lici looked up toward the Sutra Repository where candlelight flickered, and saw that weak flame sway once before gradually growing larger—a fire was starting inside the Sutra Repository.

Someone had killed Miaozhen tonight, abducted Miaoxing, and set fire to the Sutra Repository.

Miaozhen and Miaoxing knew no martial arts, yet Meihua Yishu was a master among masters—who could have killed him? Either it was an absolute top expert, or someone he trusted completely.

His visit to see Puzhu tonight had been a spontaneous decision, and he hadn’t told anyone about it. So when there was a disturbance at the mountain gate that alerted the Shaolin warrior monks, Miaozhen in the meditation chamber was already dead.

What did this indicate?

It indicated that the killer had been inside Shaolin Temple all along.

At this very moment, the killer or their accomplice was setting fire inside the Sutra Repository. Tang Lici understood clearly that rushing into the Sutra Repository would be futile—who knew how much evidence had already been planted there to prove he was the one committing arson, stealing sutras, and seizing treasures. He didn’t bother checking how many corpses lay in the other meditation chambers, but immediately sprang up and rushed toward the Abbot’s quarters.

The firelight from the Sutra Repository grew stronger. The arsonist actually couldn’t see clearly where exactly Tang Lici was positioned below the pavilion. But hearing the barely audible sound of rustling robes in the forest, someone atop the Sutra Repository sighed and murmured, “This young man acts so decisively. In that meditation chamber… he truly has no curiosity left.”

Another person atop the Sutra Repository sighed softly, “Master…”

“Junior Brother has arrived. The Young Master and this poor monk shall leave first.” The old monk holding the candle pulled up the person beside him and leaped down from the Sutra Repository. His movement technique was light and ethereal, as if weightless. With a single touch and leap on the stone path of Shaolin Temple, he left no trace whatsoever.

Moments later, Master Dabao from the mountain gate had already landed atop the Sutra Repository. Seeing the fierce flames blazing, he discovered with horror that the fire had actually started from the third floor’s Shaolin Martial Arts Scripture Treasury.

The Martial Arts Scripture Treasury had three layers of locked doors inside and out, with Shaolin disciples standing guard day and night. How could it possibly be set on fire so easily? Inside were the accumulated martial arts heritage of Shaolin’s thousand years—many techniques that no one could currently master, waiting only for future generations to carry them forward, yet they were being destroyed by such a fire? How could they face their predecessors?

Master Dabao rushed into the Martial Arts Scripture Treasury and saw that the night-watch disciple had been killed by a luminous pearl piercing his throat. In extreme fury, he roared, “Tang Lici!”

His lion’s roar caused all the trees throughout Shaolin Temple to rustle, with leaves falling in a cascade. Whether meditating or resting, all the monks were startled awake. The deep Shaolin temple bell began to ring—dong, dong, dong—continuously, signaling that an extremely urgent emergency had occurred.

People emerged from meditation chambers everywhere, except for that row of chambers near the Sutra Repository, which remained silent and motionless.

Masters Dabao and Dahui met beneath the burning Sutra Repository, but saw no sign of Dashi and Dacheng, both feeling perplexed. Suddenly, a sharp scream came from nearby. A young novice, pale as death, ran out from a meditation chamber in the farthest corner and collapsed at Master Dahui’s feet.

“Master… Master Dacheng has been murdered!” The little novice wailed and sobbed, his voice sharp and hoarse, completely terrified. “There was a very, very long blade…”

Dahui and Dabao were shocked and horrified. Both leaped up and rushed into Master Dacheng’s meditation chamber.

Breaking through the window, the first thing Dahui saw was that the doors and windows of this room were properly locked, the main door’s bolt was intact, and there were several small bloody footprints on the ground—left just moments ago by the little novice who usually served Dacheng. The blood was still wet. Master Dacheng had been pierced through the chest by a long blade that went straight to the hilt, with blood pooled all over the floor. He sat cross-legged on his meditation cushion, as if he had been meditating when suddenly someone pierced his chest with a single thrust.

Although Master Dacheng’s martial arts weren’t as strong as Dabao’s, he was no ordinary person either, especially his Arhat Fist technique, which had reached full mastery. Like Dabao, he was powerfully built with eyes like torches, and in his prime years… yet he had been pierced through the chest with a single blade. Dabao and Dahui were both shocked and enraged, momentarily at a loss for what to do.

Dahui said in a deep voice, “This matter is of grave importance. Tang Lici apparently came with a group. We must request the Abbot to emerge from seclusion!”

Dabao broke out in a cold sweat, “But Nephew Puzhu has entered a death-retreat…”

Dahui said, “Things have come to this point. Even if he would achieve nirvana immediately upon emerging, he must still come out! Tonight is a matter of life and death, with great demons appearing in the world. If the Abbot doesn’t subdue these demons, if our Shaolin doesn’t subdue them, who will?”

Dabao said, “Amitabha…”

At this time, the row of meditation chambers were opened one by one by the monks, and the tragic scenes inside caused all the Shaolin monks to chant Buddha’s name. Many young novices who had not yet experienced such turmoil burst into tears, some even fainting and collapsing.

Besides Miaozhen’s death and Miaoxing’s disappearance, in Miaozheng’s room there were two people. Miaozheng had been struck on the crown of his head with a palm strike, his skull shattered, and he died. The other person in the meditation chamber was a middle-aged man with an unfamiliar face, dressed in night-travel clothing, severely injured by Shaolin’s “Arhat Fist,” with all his bones crushed.

Such a fierce battle seemed to have occurred in just an instant, perhaps only moments ago! Yet Masters Dabao and Dahui had heard not the slightest sound. In the meditation chambers, Master Dashi and Miaoxing were nowhere to be found, their fate unknown. Besides this, on the ground were several blood-stained luminous pearls and a number of exquisitely crafted, beautiful water-drop-shaped hidden weapons.

In their great sorrow, the Shaolin monks said, “Tang Lici is utterly evil, daring to come to Shaolin Temple to kill and commit arson, insulting our Buddhist sect! If we cannot subdue this demon, where is good and evil in the world? Where is compassion?”

Another angrily said, “Master Dahui, we also discovered the corpse of Tang Lici’s accomplice in the courtyard—Meihua Yishu of the Seven Flowers Cloud Wanderer! He was struck by Shaolin’s Demon-Subduing Technique. He must have fought with Master Dashi and met his evil end! This is iron proof that Tang Lici led a group intending to destroy our Shaolin! Now Master Dashi is nowhere to be seen, perhaps… perhaps he fell victim to their poisonous hands…” His voice choked with emotion. This young monk was named Pufeng, Master Dashi’s nephew, which made him particularly heartbroken and indignant.

Even with arduous cultivation of “emptiness is emptiness,” monks are ultimately mortal beings. In the face of life and death, how can they truly remain composed?

Dahui remained beneath the Sutra Repository to oversee firefighting and count casualties, while Dabao went to the Abbot’s quarters to request Puzhu to emerge from seclusion and take charge.

Master Dabao strode with great steps, also directly breaking into the Abbot’s quarters.

In front of Shaolin Temple’s Abbot quarters stood a tilted green pine, with naturally formed mountain stones creating a naturally majestic presence beside the quarters, nothing else. Bright moonlight illuminated the pine ridge, and tonight’s moon cast the green stone slabs before the Abbot’s quarters in the same snowy white as always.

Master Dabao channeled energy into both hands and forcefully pushed open the Abbot’s quarters that had been sealed for several months.

“Abbot!” he shouted sternly inside, “Please emerge from seclusion!”

What responded to him was a “zheng” sound of sword resonance. Inside the Abbot’s quarters, sword energy crisscrossed wildly and fiercely. A bone-chilling sword wind suddenly slashed toward him head-on. Master Dabao leaned back to avoid it, landed and rolled, then looked up to see that inside the Abbot’s quarters was complete chaos.

There wasn’t just Puzhu alone inside.

There were three people in the Abbot’s quarters.

One was Puzhu with disheveled black hair.

One was Tang Lici in white robes and plain shoes.

And another person in black tight clothing, wearing an eerie and mysterious Vairocana Buddha mask on his face.

Master Dabao was stunned and murmured, “Gui Mudan?”

The three people inside the Abbot’s quarters merely paused because of his forced entry, then immediately resumed fighting.

Puzhu surprisingly had not yet taken his vows, still having a full head of black hair. Dabao couldn’t see his expression clearly, only seeing Puzhu holding a long sword, every move aimed at killing Tang Lici. Tang Lici likewise held a long sword, the blade in his hand gleaming with a faint light, as if it were a jade sword. Gui Mudan fought barehanded, assisting Tang Lici in battling Puzhu.

Master Dabao rolled to his feet and said in a trembling voice, “Nephew Abbot! Masters Dacheng, Miaozhen, Miaozheng and others have achieved nirvana! Miaoxing and Dashi are missing, and I fear they too have fallen victim to Tang Lici’s poisonous hands…”

The black-haired Puzhu turned his head upon hearing this. With a “weng” sound of sword resonance, one extremely fierce sword sweep struck toward Tang Lici.

Master Dabao discovered with horror—Puzhu was drawing his sword with closed eyes—at some unknown point, the secluded Puzhu had become completely blind. He immediately noticed that although Puzhu stood inside the Abbot’s quarters holding a long sword to resist enemies, with foes right before him, he neither came out nor gave warning. This was because Puzhu’s right foot was chained to the cloud bed in the Abbot’s quarters. The reason he could rise to resist enemies was that the chains binding his hands and left leg had been broken, the breaks bloody, clearly worn away over who knows how long.

And until now, Puzhu had not spoken a single word or made any sound.

A chill ran through Dabao’s heart.

He watched the three people fighting chaotically inside the Abbot’s quarters, his mind completely bewildered. What exactly… was happening here?