Chapter 112: Entering the Temple

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The sky was clear without a single cloud, and the sunlight beat down on the earth. At the foot of Mount Shaoshi, the carriage carrying Emperor Zhu came to a slow halt. Once steady, Zhu and Jiang Yuyan disembarked one after the other. Across the vast Shaoshi mountain range, as far as the eye could see, there was only their small group.

Such a scene was a rarity. Shaolin Temple was not only one of the few top sects in the martial world but also the most renowned monastery in the Central Plains. Every day, countless ordinary people came to offer incense and make vows.

Of course, the place for common worship and the quarters where the warrior monks trained and rested were separate. In this regard, Shaolin Temple did an excellent job, completely segregating the martial world from ordinary folk.

Some seasoned Shaolin devotees who had frequented Mount Shaoshi for years had never encountered a single martial artist aside from the monks themselves.

Only two martial sects had achieved such a practice in the martial world: Shaolin and Wudang.

It wasn’t that only these two could manage it, but that doing so demanded immense manpower, resources, energy, and financial means.

Other sects either didn’t try or deemed it unnecessary.

As expected, this unusual situation was surely the doing of Cao Zhengchun. Though Zhu felt a slight regret that the commoners lacked the astonishment one would show upon meeting the emperor, he nonetheless admired Cao Zhengchun’s approach.

With his feet firmly planted on the ground, a strange sensation rose in Zhu’s heart.

This was the first time Zhu had publicly appeared wearing the dragon robe. The previous summer retreat didn’t count, for although he wore the dragon robe when leaving the palace, he had not come face to face with anyone.

Suppressing this feeling, and after Jiang Yuyan also dismounted, Zhu issued a solemn command: “Let us proceed up the mountain.”

At his order, the nearly forty-strong entourage began to move slowly toward the Shaolin Temple’s mountain gate.

Stationed halfway up the mountain to observe the situation was Fang Zheng, a disciple bearing the Fang character in his name. Seeing the crowd gathering below, he stared intently before turning back to report to the temple.

At the mountain gate, all senior Shaolin monks, led by the abbot Xuanci, had already arranged a formal reception, except for an elderly monk who had long since withdrawn from the world.

Spotting Fang Zheng running toward the gate, Xuanci called out, “Fang Zheng, what do you see? Is it truly the emperor himself?”

“Respectfully, Abbot, I dare not speak lightly, for I have never seen the emperor’s face and cannot be certain. But among the group, there is indeed someone dressed in the dragon robe. Another wears the attire of a noble consort, while the rest are clad entirely in the uniforms of the Eastern Depot.

“Furthermore, by the temple’s art of qi observation, these visitors are all elite. Except for the one in the dragon robe, the others emanate killing intent. Two of them have unusual auras—ones I cannot penetrate—and they seem to be martial arts masters.”

Xuanci nodded upon hearing Fang Zheng’s report and declared loudly, “There can be no doubt. Brothers, prepare to receive the emperor.”

“Amitabha, we shall follow the abbot’s command,” the monks responded in unison.

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After a moment, those standing atop the mountain, including Xuanci, saw the scouts from the Eastern Depot ahead. Without further delay, they advanced to meet them.

From the outset of this transmigration, Zhu had known Shaolin was formidable, but he had never grasped just how formidable.

Listening to the introductions presented by Xuanci, Zhu’s heart sank deeper and deeper.

Names like Xuannan, Xuanbei, Xuanji, Xuanyin, Xuantong, Xuancheng, Kongwen, Kongxing, Kongzhi, and Kuhui—all sounded like characters from classic martial and Buddhist texts—flooded Zhu’s mind.

“This isn’t just strength,” Zhu thought bitterly. “My heart has turned cold.”

Fortunately, Zhu had long been honing his acting skills. He exchanged polite pleasantries with Abbot Xuanci without revealing his true feelings and gradually composed himself.

Yet, another great burden had settled in Zhu’s heart: Shaolin Temple itself.

Later, Zhu followed the customs and respectfully worshipped Buddha inside Shaolin. Of course, granted imperial privilege, he performed the gestures without kneeling, merely going through the motions.

At Xuanci’s invitation, Zhu and his entourage partook in an authentic vegetarian meal at the temple.

After the meal, Xuanci got down to business.

“Your Majesty gracing our humble temple brings great honor. Though I have studied the Dharma for years, I am but a simple man. There is a question weighing on my mind, and I wonder if Your Majesty might grant me clarity?”

“Please, Abbot, speak freely,” Zhu replied straightforwardly, as this was indeed his purpose for visiting.

Xuanci bowed in the Buddhist manner and asked, “Amitabha. While emperors of past dynasties have come to pay respects here, the proceedings seem somewhat different from what I observe today. Might I ask if Your Majesty’s visit is solely for worship?”

“Certainly not,” Zhu’s tone grew firmer. Though Xuanci’s words seemed gentle, the question was pointed.

This was no gentle inquiry—it was a direct interrogation.

“I am but a fool and do not understand why Your Majesty has come,” Xuanci pressed on, seemingly oblivious to Zhu’s shift in tone.

This time, Zhu ignored him and turned to Cao Zhengchun. “Send everyone out. Make sure this place is well guarded.”

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“Yes, Your Majesty,” Cao Zhengchun acknowledged and led the men out.

With the Eastern Depot personnel gradually leaving, Zhu looked back at Xuanci and said, “Abbot, I do not wish this matter to be known by too many. Only keep the senior monks bearing the Kong and Xuan characters.”

Seeing the great force Zhu had brought, even Xuanci’s usually calm heart stirred somewhat.

“Brothers, you may return to your respective temples to cultivate the Dharma.”

After Xuanci’s words, most of the monks filed out, leaving the room spacious and quiet.

“Your Majesty, you may speak now,” Xuanci bowed once more.

“Do you wish to know why I came in such haste?”

“Please enlighten me, Your Majesty.”

“I have come to deliver judgment!” Zhu stared into Xuanci’s eyes, pronouncing each word with gravity.

Yet, to Zhu’s disappointment, Xuanci remained unmoved, his gaze serene and unruffled.

Of course, this was just Abbot Xuanci. The expressions of the other senior monks present shifted noticeably.

“Amitabha. Our temple does not kill, nor consume meat. We constantly restrain the monks with strict precepts. I do not understand the crime Your Majesty speaks of. From where does this guilt arise?”

Upon these words, the monks’ minds calmed. Indeed, they had never touched the affairs of the court. Though Shaolin often stirred turmoil in the martial world, they did not spill blood. What crime could there be?

“Hmph. What crime? Harboring those who conspire to rebel—is that not a crime? Shall I wait for you Shaolin elders to come to my Golden Throne Hall to judge me?” Zhu retorted.

“Amitabha. Shaolin Temple has never concealed anyone. I beg Your Majesty not to heed the slander of villains.”

This time, someone could no longer hold back. Before Xuanci could reply, Kongwen stepped forward to refute.

—End of excerpt—