Chapter 58: In the Unstable Grip of Imperial Power
In the unstable grip of imperial power, the court drowned in luxury and decadence while factional strife intensified. Public order collapsed, and the phrase "every man for himself" echoed through the palace and beyond. In a world where no one could rely on another, seizing one's own interests became the natural order.
From great cities to remote villages, officials pillaged relentlessly, gorging themselves on ill-gotten gains. The people's livelihoods were utterly ignored, plunging into deeper darkness. For ordinary folk, life turned blood-red. Seizing the sweat-soaked crops and hard-earned wealth of peasants for the simple sake of the court's pleasures and officials' authority became everyday reality. In the worst cases, able-bodied husbands, young wives, and even children were taken away.
Outrage swelled. As the people's fury grew, the Red Turbans' cries for a new heaven gained ever more momentum. Blood flowed freer, and anger burned hotter. The Murim Alliance, secretly backing the Red Turbans, found itself stretched thin—not just supporting battles across the nation, but also contending with bandits, river pirates, unorthodox sects, and even Japanese invaders exploiting the breakdown in order. With the state abdicating its duty, it was inevitable that private forces would buckle under the strain.
The Yangtze River Pirates. This gang, swelling their ranks around the mighty Yangtze, terrorized the region with water-based martial arts and plunder. Law and order along the river had become a joke. The orthodox sects of Hubei and Hunan Provinces, sharing the Yangtze's domain, scrambled to maintain security. But they lacked the numbers to combat the exponentially growing pirates—especially since battles raged on water against foes versed in martial arts, rendering amateur martial artists useless.
In desperation, pleas for aid reached Shaolin Temple in Henan, north of Hubei. Responding in force, a large contingent of warrior monks departed the temple. Days later, under the ink-black night of Shaolin's forest-shrouded Lesser Room Peak, a shadowy figure merged seamlessly with the darkness.
* * *
Phantom Ghost Step. The pinnacle of Snake Sect stealth techniques, comprising seventy-two distinct footwork patterns. Divided into early, middle, and late stages of twenty-four steps each, the complexity escalated dramatically, demanding ever more exquisite internal energy control and movement precision.
All Snake Sect assassins mastered at least the middle stage, enough to evade peak masters' senses. Proficiency in the late stage could fool even transcendent experts. At its zenith, one could vanish without any footwork at all—a realm achieved by only the sect leader, deputy leader, and five elite assassins in the current Snake Sect.
Of course, equating stealth mastery to overall martial prowess was a stretch, but the Snake Sect could proudly claim supremacy in concealment arts.
Aside from Leader Yu Xixiao and Deputy Leader Yu Xuhe, assassins were ranked elite, upper, middle, and standard. Late-stage practitioners were upper rank; those mastering its end were elite.
Yu Xixiao had estimated at least a year for Tian Ailang to reach the late stage when teaching him the Phantom Ghost Step. Given the hellish difficulty of infiltrating Shaolin swiftly and his own transcendent cultivation, even that timeline seemed absurdly short. Yet after a week of demonstrations and energy checks, he replicated it flawlessly, overcoming trial and error to surpass the middle stage. By the end of the month, he wielded the late stage perfectly—and now, he could briefly unleash its zenith.
Under a thin crescent moon staining the night black, Yu Xixiao swung her fully forged twin ghost swords, softly praying for Tian Ailang's safe return to Shaolin. Around her, radiant sword qi swirled like colorful mist.
* * *
Shaolin Temple nestled in the forests of Lesser Room Peak on Mount Song, hence its name. Naturally wooded, Tian Ailang used the trees' shadows to bolster any shortfall in his stealth as he advanced. His destination: the Pagoda Forest, innermost woods where stupas enshrined the relics of eminent monks. Intelligence placed the Great Return Pill among its hundreds of towers.
The Phantom Ghost Step proved flawless—even vigilant warrior monks and sensitive rats detected nothing. Arriving at the Pagoda Forest almost anticlimactically, Tian Ailang immediately faced a dilemma.
Too many stupas...
Hundreds stretched before him. He'd anticipated a forest of towers, but not to this extent. Pinpointing the Great Return Pill amid them was the crux.
Still, have to do it.
Deliberation brief, action swift. Tian Ailang began searching. Strange orbs emerged from stupas of varying sizes. But the Great Return Pill eluded him.
Damn.
He scowled. He'd checked two hundred, yet unexamined towers loomed endlessly. Urgency bred frustration as nothing yielded.
Stay calm.
Deep breath, straightening from his hunch. As long as the pill was here, all would be well. Relaxing briefly, he jolted at a presence behind him, unleashing shrinking-ground technique and Phantom Ghost Step at zenith in an instant.
A diminutive old monk stood at his former spot, hands clasped behind his back. Glancing at the spot where Tian Ailang had vanished, the monk tilted his head.
"Heh heh heh. A feat to make ghosts weep."
Tian Ailang observed. Maintaining stealth drained energy, so he'd dropped it while searching—but his senses spread wide for contingencies.
Yet this old man closed to arm's length before I noticed.
Undoubtedly Shaolin, and extraordinarily skilled. The monk puzzled, then fixed clearly on Tian Ailang's position. Sensing his stealth pierced, Tian Ailang lunged, aiming to subdue the witness before complications arose.
Shiiik—!
With Phantom Ghost Step's subtlety, his golden claw hand snaked forth like a serpent, gripping with rock-shattering force and yanking.
"...!?"
But the monk didn't budge, chuckling idly with hands still behind. Instead, he asked calmly,
"Who might the benefactor be?"
No answer—Tian Ailang unleashed a leg strike.
Boom!
Scowling at the unmoved monk, his leg throbbed from rebound.
"Heh... A pain I've not felt since attaining the indestructible diamond body."
The monk spoke as if nipped by an insect. From point-blank, Tian Ailang fired a finger strike.
Divine Dragon Finger Bullet. Coiling Dragon.
Extreme energy compression and spin. Clang!
The monk's body repelled the blow that would crumple iron plate. Unfazed, Tian Ailang maxed his energy.
Rrrrrumble!
The area quaked. Divine Dragon Overlord Step—the same art used against Zhu Yuanzhang, dominating space with monstrous pressure.
Pressure.
Palms thrust, ambient force converged on one point.
"Hup!"
The monk's leisure vanished for the first time. Short breath, eyes closed, palms pressed together.
Groooar! Crraaack!
In energy that would crush mortals, the monk endured almost serenely. Tian Ailang clicked his tongue, retreating. Potent as it was, Divine Dragon Overlord Step exhausted his reserves, leaving hollow fatigue. The monk's defense entered uncharted realms.
Thunderbolt energy, his strongest? As he pondered, the monk opened his eyes.
"Whew... First shock since the Yi Jin Jing granted diamond indestructibility. Impressive, benefactor."
The monk eyed his quivering muscles in awe. Yi Jin Jing—legendary manual left by Patriarch Bodhidharma. Beyond mere energy cultivation, it reshaped the body for martial perfection, one of murim's supreme arts. Famously, its zenith rarely yielded diamond indestructibility.
Feeling his energy surge anew, Tian Ailang assessed. Subduing seemed impossible against that defense. Hitherto silent strikes wouldn't suffice; true confrontation meant noise—and ruin his mission.
Thus, dialogue.
"Who are you, old monk?"
Gruff words drew a beaming smile.
"Heh heh! Not mute, then? This humble monk is Ogo the abbot of Shaolin—too grand a title, really. And you, benefactor?"
Tian Ailang inwardly startled at "Shaolin abbot," but his prowess confirmed it.
"Tian Ailang."
The abbot nodded, smiling leisurely.
"Indeed. What affliction brings Tian benefactor here?"
Tian Ailang found the abbot an enigma. He was an intruder who'd assaulted the abbot outright—yet no reproach, only concern and profundity.
How to answer? Honesty; lies changed nothing.
"My sworn brother teeters between life and death. Only Shaolin's Great Return Pill can save him, so I've come."
"Heh... Righteous valor. Amitabha."
The abbot bowed palms together respectfully, then continued,
"Follow me, Tian benefactor."
Perplexed by the unpredictable words, Tian Ailang furrowed his brow, weighing scenarios. But as the abbot receded, he hurried after.
The abbot scanned, then approached an unremarkable stupa, opening its core to retrieve a small box. He handed it over.
The Great Return Pill?
Tian Ailang accepted reflexively, cracking it open. A refreshing scent, like Shaolin's woods, cleared his mind. He snapped it shut, staring in shock.
"Why give this to me...?"
Hands behind back, the abbot smiled idly.
"Amitabha. Didn't you need it to save your brother? Then save him."
Tian Ailang clutched the box, gaze complex on the pill, conflicted on the abbot.
"Shaolin's treasure, to a stranger—who damaged the Pagoda Forest and attacked you?"
Warm eyes met his.
"Kindness."
"What...?"
Brow furrowed; the abbot chuckled.
"Amitabha. Seasonal karma. Stuck on that koan in my seclusion cave, old predecessors' warm counsel surfaced. Came here to their aura, cool my head."
Gazing round, eyes returned.
"Then fate sent you. Thunder in my mind. All has cause and effect: the koan, coming here, meeting you, your need, and knowing the pill's spot—known only to me and one other in Shaolin. All linked by karma."
"..."
Tian Ailang faltered at the abbot's profundity. Smiling, he added,
"Even if Shaolin's treasure, is it dearer than life? Not for casual use, but I trust you'll wield it for good karma."
A sunray pierced Tian Ailang's storm-lashed heart. Shaolin's pillar status stemmed not from martial might, but spirit.
Gazing at box and abbot, his tone softened.
"Desperation blinded me to means. Faced with the choice again, I'd act the same. No apology—but sincere thanks. Once my affairs end, I'll repay Shaolin."
"Heh heh, seasonal karma."
The abbot laughed heartily, pleased. But both expressions hardened abruptly.
Immense demonic qi surged from afar.
"Heh... Demonic qi from the guest quarters? So thick—Heavenly Demon and elders?"
"Chan Ho... and Draku?"
Tian Ailang stiffened at familiar auras amid diverse energies and three vast demonic presences.
Fwosh!
Abbot and Tian Ailang bolted at utmost speed, neck and neck.