The Qi Arts Master Chapter 61
After the Demonic Cult's forces withdrew, a heavy, painful silence lingered over Shaolin. While cries had echoed through Shaolin's history before, it had been nearly a century since an enemy leader had attacked so directly. As Shaolin's disciples tended to the wounded and extinguished the fires in the halls, the Shaolin Abbot received Tian Ailang and the other guests.
The abbot, having received simple treatment in the Medicine King's Hall, took a seat in a space prepared off to one side.
"Your injury looks severe. Shouldn't you rest?" Tian Ailang said, eyeing the abbot's severed arm. The abbot responded with a gentle smile.
"This is nothing. It's just that my left arm, which served me faithfully for seventy years, decided to retire first. And how could I be remiss in greeting those who saved Shaolin?"
"The old man's got spine," the Haomen Lord grunted roughly, making the corners of the abbot's eyes crinkle.
"You're the Haomen Lord, I presume. On behalf of Shaolin, I offer my deepest thanks for your aid today."
"I don't need your thanks. I didn't come as Haomen Lord today—just as a father dropping by for his daughter. And I didn't do much anyway."
"So you're the father of the brother that benefactor Tian wished to save."
The Haomen Lord gave no reply, merely crossing his arms and glancing at Tian Ailang. Understanding the look, Tian Ailang drew a small box from his robe and held it up.
"This elder was kind enough to lend his aid."
The Haomen Lord turned to the abbot with fresh eyes, uncrossed his arms, and cupped his fists in salute.
"My deepest gratitude for your great help in saving my daughter."
Unable to return the fist-cup or palms-together greeting, the abbot simply placed his palms together and accepted it. Then he addressed those behind him.
"You shadowy benefactors there, no need to stay hidden in discomfort. Come, sit comfortably."
Tian Ailang nodded slightly.
"Yeah. Sit easy."
At his words, Yu Soso and Yu Soho emerged from the shadows in the corner behind the abbot's guards.
"We shall follow the clan lord's will."
They sat divided to either side, wary of the abbot. He smiled at the sight and looked to Tian Ailang.
"You have reliable subordinates."
Tian Ailang shook his head.
"Family. No matter the reality, 'family' fits better than 'subordinates.'"
Yu Soso and Yu Soho's eyes trembled faintly at his words.
"Amitabha."
The abbot nodded in understanding and continued.
"Once more, my heartfelt thanks for your help. Without you, many including myself would have lost their lives to those Demonic Cult fiends, and the Sutra Repository and Medicine King's Hall—pillars of Shaolin's history—would have suffered grievous damage. Had that happened, Shaolin would have had no choice but to seal its gates. And who knows how long that would have lasted."
Hearing this, Tian Ailang realized the earlier events had been far graver than he'd thought.
"Do you know why the Demonic Cult attacked Shaolin?"
Tian Ailang posed the question to the abbot and glanced at the Haomen Lord as well. The abbot pondered briefly before speaking.
"Likely, as I mentioned before, sealing Shaolin's gates would be their greatest gain."
"Sealing Shaolin is a great gain?"
At Tian Ailang's puzzled query, the Haomen Lord took up the explanation.
"The Demonic Cult's biggest mistake in the old righteous-demonic great war was failing to clear obstacles beforehand. That allowed the righteous Murim Alliance to strike their rear secretly and turn the tide. Had they not erred so, the Central Plains would be under demonic rule by now, fifty years ago. I suspect this attack on Shaolin is part of such preparations."
The abbot nodded in agreement. He closed his eyes, frowning as he recalled that war fifty years past. Had Shaolin sealed its gates today, chaos would have gripped the righteous Murim. A chill ran down his spine. Gazing at Tian Ailang, he reflected anew on the twists of fate. The outcome today hinged on not a single thing going awry.
"What are your plans now, benefactor Tian?"
To the abbot's question, Tian Ailang replied nonchalantly.
"Off to find another spirit pill to save my little sister."
The abbot smiled at Tian Ailang, who spoke of helping others as if it were the most natural thing.
"A good soul. Might I ask what spirit pill it is?"
Tian Ailang answered casually.
"The Fire Dragon Pill."
The abbot paused in surprise, then grew solemn.
"Planning to pass through Sichuan, by any chance?"
Unaware of the pill's location, Tian Ailang looked to the Haomen Lord for guidance. He nodded.
"Even a man from only Shaolin knows a fair bit. Yes. To reach the poison zones of Yunnan, wouldn't Clan Lord Tian need to stop at the Sichuan Tang Clan?"
New information to Tian Ailang, but he paid it no mind. Wherever it was, whatever obstacles lay in wait, as long as the Fire Dragon Pill was there.
At the Haomen Lord's words, the abbot smiled warmly.
"Amitabha. Fortunately, I share an old friendship with the Tang Clan Lord. I can write a letter of introduction. It's from the distant past, but it might still aid in gaining their help."
The Haomen Lord signaled approval to Tian Ailang. Aid from the Sichuan Tang Clan would be essential for Yunnan's poison lands, and the abbot's letter would make it far smoother. Tian Ailang nodded vigorously.
"I'd be grateful. And I'll return later to thank you properly for the Great Return Pill and today's help—once I've sorted the pressing matters, of course."
The abbot beamed and placed his palms together.
"Amitabha."
* * *
The Sichuan Tang Clan stood as one of Sichuan's premier powers alongside the Emei Sect and Qingcheng Sect. Known as one of the Five Great Clans of the righteous Murim, it was famed for its poisons and hidden weapons. Though aligned with the righteous factions, it maintained prickly relations with other righteous sects. The reason lay in its core martial arts and weapons: poisons and hidden arms, seen as cowardly in righteous Murim circles. Its bold conduct also sparked frequent conflicts. Yet no faction dared trifle with the Tang Clan lightly, thanks to its ruthless house rule: repay favors twofold, vengeance tenfold. Feuding with a poison-handling house like theirs meant no peace in eating, sleeping, or fighting. Highly insular, the clan even took many sons-in-law, bucking modern trends. It had an inner fortress for the Tang bloodline and an outer for sons-in-law or meritorious outsiders granted the Tang surname.
Tian Ailang now stood before the grand gate of the outer fortress, gazing up at the massive plaque.
[Tang Clan]
Written in bold, unadorned strokes without flourish. Closer inspection revealed martial traces in the lines—likely inscribed in one stroke with refined qi.
What a master.
With a brief murmur of admiration, Tian Ailang stepped toward the gate. Two gatekeepers who'd been watching him reached out to bar his path.
They wore garb with pouches for hidden weapons, cloaked in wind-resistant robes to conceal them. Unlike typical martial artists, they bore no long swords—their weapons being projectiles, no doubt.
"Halt!"
Tian Ailang stopped obediently at the gatekeeper's command. Unless the Fire Dragon Pill was here like at Shaolin, its location lay elsewhere. He'd come seeking the Tang Clan's aid to reach it.
No need to take offense at their curt tone.
"State your business approaching the Tang Clan."
At the sharp query, Tian Ailang flashed the letter from his robe.
"Here to see the Tang Clan Lord. This letter is from the Shaolin Abbot."
The names of two titans from Tian Ailang's lips gave the gatekeepers pause; they exchanged glances, unsure how to proceed.
"Hand over the letter and wait. We'll report it."
A touch of defiance crept in. Protocol demanded swift reporting and escort with such names invoked, but this young punk's arrogant stance irked them.
Tian Ailang shook his head firmly.
"No. I'll deliver it in person."
Their faces hardened instantly. No visitor had ever so bluntly rejected Tang Clan protocol, unfair or not—no one acted that way without at least trying persuasion.
Flushing red, they raised their voices.
"Do you know where you are, acting like that?!"
Tian Ailang bellowed back at the heated gatekeepers.
"And who the hell are you to block my path? Just a gatekeeper, yet you think you're above the Shaolin Abbot? Or are you the Tang Clan Lord?!"
His roaring drew stares from passing travelers, who began murmuring at the scene. As the crowd grew, the gatekeepers' faces burned hotter—with humiliation paling beside the insult. Never had anyone dared shout at Tang clansmen like this.
"You dare shame the Tang Clan? As a member, I'll discipline you and restore order!"
With that, one thrust a hand into his robe and fired tiny needles.
Pip-pip!
Tian Ailang easily dodged the blood-point strikes and slammed a powerful kick into the gatekeeper's solar plexus.
Thud!
The man flew back, crashing against the gate and collapsing. He gasped raggedly, barely clinging to consciousness amid the agony, on the verge of blacking out. His partner swallowed hard, watching his comrade felled by a kick too crude for a proper technique.
Tian Ailang advanced on the hesitating one.
The gatekeeper flinched back.
Step by step. Matching Tian Ailang's approach, he retreated until his back hit the gate, snapping him alert.
Tian Ailang spoke low to him.
"I won't say it twice. I've come with the Shaolin Abbot's letter to see the Tang Clan Lord. Open the gate and escort me. Do that, and I'll overlook your rudeness."
The gatekeeper felt crushing pressure from Tian Ailang. His words rang like an absolute command, filling him with dread. With a jerky nod, he swung the gate open.
Through it, Tian Ailang spotted numerous warriors gathered—alert to the commotion, their reactions swift.
A bit arrogant, but well-drilled.
He sensed the blend of regular martial artist and assassin in the onrushing group. Unlike the gatekeepers, they wore swords, but their wind-resistant robes hid projectiles too.
Tian Ailang followed the leading gatekeeper inside. At once, killing intent pressed from all sides, thick and sticky.
......
Intended to intimidate, no doubt. Laughable.
He prodded the halted gatekeeper.
"Why stop?"
At the casual query, the man barely swallowed. The selective killing intent from the outer fortress warriors was killing him, yet this man took the full brunt so calmly—shock and worry bloomed. Wrong guy to mess with.
Then a young man and woman entered through the gate. Recognizing them, the outer warriors froze, bowing deeply to obscure their vision.
"Young Clan Lord! Young Lady!"
Tian Ailang turned at the sudden vanishing intent and fervent greetings to see the pair they saluted.