Chapter 112: I Am the Calamity of Lanruo Temple

The monk had no idea what had just happened. He only felt that the strength in his hand, which had once felt as heavy as a mountain, was suddenly gone. The staff veered off uncontrollably and smashed onto the ground.

Earlier, he had seen his junior brother knocked unconscious and had not understood the situation, nor why his junior brother was no match for a scholar. But now he finally realized—though it was already too late.

Shen Shi flipped his hand and struck a rising dragon fist against the monk’s chin.

The monk, like the previous one, spat blood and teeth.

The second punishment was over.

The next monk who stepped forward was shocked at the sight. Exchanging glances with his companions, they shouted in unison, “Attack together!”

Several staffs swung down in unison.

Unfortunately, how could their staff strikes compare to the bows and arrows of the Liao archers? They had no idea what was happening. One monk fell backward, spitting out a tooth and groaning a few times before losing consciousness. Another monk swung his staff horizontally, aiming for Shen Shi’s waist, but missed. Shen Shi caught the staff, twisted his foot and waist, spinning the monk around as if the monk’s strength had completely vanished, all controlled by Shen Shi’s hands and waist. Then Shen Shi suddenly stopped.

With a bang, he was thrown against the staff by centrifugal force.

Another good tooth flew out with a “pfft!”

The monk passed out as well.

Though it sounded lengthy, only a few seconds had passed—just a few simple exchanges.

This left the remaining monks panicked. Seeing Shen Shi’s swift and clean strikes, they knew they were no match for him. More importantly, this scholar was ruthless—fighting him meant losing teeth. Without teeth, how could they enjoy their meat?

Indeed, compared to villagers who had lost their breadwinners and had no food, their concern was about eating meat—specifically lamb. Lamb was the supreme ingredient in the Song dynasty’s court cuisine. To enjoy lamb, the Lanruo Temple often bought sheep from Western Xia. As monks fond of wine and meat, they were quite fitting.

Ironically, because they were wine-and-meat monks, the remaining monks no longer advanced. Whenever Shen Shi stepped forward, they retreated. When he moved forward a few steps, they panicked and fled.

“Abbot!”
“Master!”

The Lanruo Temple was right here. If they left, it would be difficult for them to get lamb again; otherwise, they might have fled down the mountain.

Shen Shi paid no mind to them and walked directly to the two sisters, speaking softly, “Are you alright?”

“Ah, yes, yes, we’re fine.” The elder sister was frightened, barely able to speak after escaping death.

“Thank you, young sir! Gongsun Jiuniang thanks you,” the younger sister, Gongsun Jiuniang, said gratefully.

“Bold scholar, you’ve dared to make an enemy of Lanruo Temple!”

At that moment, the burly abbot reacted and stepped forward to back his disciples. Judging by his build, he was clearly a martial artist. When his violent aura emerged, ghostly energy enveloped him, a presence that even Buddhism could not entirely mask. Shen Shi felt a strong aversion.

So Shen Shi made his choice known through action.

He reached out, beckoning the staff on the ground to move without wind, and it flew into his hand.

“Hmph! Great monk, no need to wear the hat of worldly morality. With all this ghostly energy around you, you must be a practitioner of demonic arts. Then let us settle this with methods of cultivators. I am Shen Shi of the Daoist school of the Ten Mysterious Sons. Fellow Daoist, please.”

With that, he swung his staff, producing a sharp crack through the air.

Cultivators had their own ways of resolving conflicts. And to become a local leader, one must understand reason.

To understand reason and yet refuse to act—that is true evil, and must be fought.

Shen Shi saw clearly: the common folk protecting the temple was their merit, but such merit could not be judged by worldly standards. The monks’ saying, “Merit in this life, repayment in the next,” rendered the people without recourse.

Shen Shi was no fool. The monks’ teachings were fixed and unchangeable by anyone. But he had a secret plan, just as Zhang Liang had his secret ladder. Shen Shi directly unleashed the signature teachings of the Ten Mysterious Sons Daoist school.

Buddhist cultivation is repaid in the next life; Daoist cultivation repays in this life. It’s not that retribution doesn’t come, but the time is not yet ripe. Now that I have arrived and seen it, I am the calamity of your Lanruo Temple.

This was also a teaching, but Daoist. No one could say Shen Shi was wrong—unless one possessed the power to overturn and remake Daoist doctrine, which no one could.

Seeing Shen Shi confront him as a cultivator, the abbot’s expression changed. It was not that he did not want to fight himself—in fact, he could handle two or three martial monks easily. But someone as nimble as Shen Shi was beyond his reach. The abbot looked to the county magistrate, hoping to use official power to remove this man.

But if he did not dare intervene, would the magistrate?

He was not a fool. Did he not know the Song dynasty’s attitude toward Daoists?

As long as Daoists did not rebel, no one interfered. Even in rebellion—like Song Jiang’s uprising—the famous Daoist Gongsun Sheng ended his days by studying Daoism and caring for his elderly mother.

This showed the Song dynasty’s favor toward Daoists. The magistrate even regretted getting involved.

He could not afford to offend the Buddhists, but Daoists were a different matter. Had he known, he would never have come. The faint bonds of gratitude for dividing spoils vanished instantly.

He even blamed the Lanruo abbot: “You’re a monk, he’s a Daoist. Why can’t you settle your disputes yourselves? Why drag me into this?”

It was precisely because of the great influence of Buddhism and Daoism in this era that the magistrate was unwilling to intervene. Otherwise, if he had torn the veil and investigated Shen Shi’s Daoist credentials, Shen Shi would have none.

But faced with the eternal unresolved strife between Buddhism and Daoism, would the magistrate dare to interfere?

No! He dared not. Even if Buddhists did not kill, their influence was such that even the emperor feared them, let alone him.

If he could, he truly wished to be invisible: “You can’t see me, you can’t see me!”

The magistrate’s attitude displeased the abbot but left him powerless. After all, he was not a government official.

Yet in his eyes, the magistrate was betraying them. The market was destroyed, yet Lanruo Temple had not demanded compensation from Guobei County. That was his goodwill. But now, the magistrate clearly refused to help.

“Divine Tree, lend this poor monk a hand!”

Lanruo Temple had its own rules. As abbot, he was naturally bound to defend the temple’s privileges. The Divine Tree was his trump card. With the tree’s blessing, he would show everyone what it meant to have “gods watching from three feet above, praising my good deeds.”

Only by fighting and killing—no wonder Daoism could never surpass Buddhism!