CH 3

In his past life, Xue Xian had been known to pierce the heavens above and shake the earth below. But now, he had been defeated by some worthless monk, using nothing but a random piece of copper sheet… 

The moss spell had immediately dissipated upon being touched by the monk, and Xue Xian and Jiang Shining reverted to their original paper man appearances. The monk cast a bored look at the two paper faces, then folded them up, and placed them into a pouch on his hip. 

Before Xue Xian could unleash the full power of his divine fury onto the bald donkey, he was unceremoniously shoved into the monk's pouch. The pouch was sealed tightly, with no room for escape. 

If pure frustration could kill a man, Xue Xian would have died 200 times inside that pouch. He had always been a proud creature: he was allowed to piss off others, but others could not under any circumstance piss him off. It was unfair, of course, but why be fair when a zuzong like him could have his way? Now, though, he’d been too arrogant, and had encountered the single iron nail that could sink his entire ship.

Xue Xian didn’t care why the monk had shown up here. From now on, he and the bald donkey were arch-nemeses. 

Xue Xian was never the type to bow down to others. If only he had a knife –– he would not hesitate to stab this monk in the hip. Too bad he’d never formed the habit of carrying a weapon around with him. 

This monk seemed to be a pillar of ice, the kind who didn't like to show emotion on his face, let alone speak –– but his body sure was warm. The warmth seeped through the monk's thin robes and into Xue Xian's paper body.

Xue Paperman, who felt suffocated after only a few moments: “...”

Annoying!

Indeed it was annoying. To people with ill health, too much warmth in a harsh winter can be thoroughly demoralising, and this was especially the case for Xue Xian, who had been paralysed for half a year. His pathways weren’t clear, so neither his qi nor his blood was circulating properly, and his weak body was unable to retain any heat. The whole winter had been unbearable. Just from being held for an instant by this man of ice, Xue Xian’s body disobeyed his mind and began to feel much too comfortable and content to bother moving at all.

Xue Xian had been folded over twice. After a while, he finally got his lazy body to obey him, and he began to feel around for the other objects inside the monk's pouch.

As for this young monk, Xue Xian still didn’t understand him.

If he was the real deal... Then ripping a piece of cloth and using a piece of copper to pick up some moss meant nothing. Even a baby could do it! Besides, if a really talented person wanted to pick something up from the floor, it was simply a matter of crooking one’s finger. And forget moss –– he could even have lifted the whole house! Why would he need to bend down and pick them up himself? 

But if he wasn't the real deal... Then how did he immediately see through the layers of spells? 

At first, Xue Xian was careful not to alert the monk. As he rifled through the monk's pouch with his thin paper hand, he made his movements as small and precise as possible, so that nothing would seem amiss.    

But after a while, he decided that he didn't need to be careful at all –– because he realised that the monk might become far too busy to notice him. Xue Xian thought he could hear noises in the courtyard through the layers of white hemp cloth, as though a crowd had gathered, although he didn't know why. 

"Hey... why are you slapping my face?" From behind gritted teeth, Jiang Shining's muffled voice rose from somewhere in the pouch. He seemed to have reached the end of his patience with Xue Xian. 

In his haste, Xue Xian had accidentally patted the wrong thing. He was in no mood to explain anything to the bookworm, so he simply hushed him, warning the idiot not to make any noise.

For the past half-year, Xue Xian’s movements had been severely limited. Any time he'd wanted to do something or go somewhere, he'd had to wait for the east wind to blow him there –– or to grab onto a person, or a thing. It was a good thing he’d run into this bald donkey. Even if the monk was a good-for-nothing grifter, he had to have some kind of interesting fake magical instrument on him. Xue Xian wanted to take advantage of the situation to steal something useful, and then get out of there. 

As Xue Xian busied away, the young monk who had captured him reached the main doors of the Jiang compound again. 

The dilapidated front doors had long been broken into pieces, and even the copper hinges had become misshapen, so that there was no way of closing the doors properly –– no matter how one fiddled with the doors, there was always a large gap. Now, the monk stopped in front of the set of doors, and raised his eyes.

The gap between the doors was as wide as a toothless grin. Beyond that gap, the monk could clearly see that a crowd had gathered outside. The Jiang compound had been ruined for so many years that, naturally, there were no lanterns outside, as there had never been anything to see. But now, those waiting outside each held their own paper lantern, whose white lights gave the group a menacing, threatening aura. Clearly, they had no good intentions.

They didn't seem to be here to catch a ghost, but rather to arrest a person. 

There’s a folk saying that goes, 'If you do nothing wrong, you have no demons to fear'; but faced with such a tense scene, no one would be blamed for feeling afraid. The young monk, however, gave a cursory glance to the crowd. He pushed open the doors and made to leave, as though the crowd of people holding lanterns did not even exist.

Of course, those standing by the Jiang compound were not random passersby. There were about ten of them, all wearing the blueish-gray formal robes of the County Office. Each carried a two-foot long sword on his hip. Seeing that the monk wanted to leave, they gripped the hilts of the swords attached to their hips, and tightened the circle to block his path.

The monk stopped. With a slight frown, he scanned the group in front of him. He seemed not to understand what business these people had with him.

A mature voice suddenly said, "This is the man you were telling me about?"

The monk followed the voice to its source –– it was a stout middle-aged man wearing a shiye’s [a] hat and sporting a goatee, on the thinner side but with a bulging stomach. Any Ningyang local would immediately recognise him as Ningyang County yamen’s [b] head officer, Liu Xu. 

The monk was not a local, but based on his personality, even if he were a local, it would never occur to him to remember what Liu-shiye looked like, let alone treat him with deference. 

But the man that Liu-shiye was speaking to, the monk did seem to recognise –– it was the short man who owned Jiuwei Hall.

It seemed that the restaurant owner had contemplated the poster by his stall for a bit, and ultimately decided to go to the yamen. After all, the reward was generous, and this was a slippery criminal we were talking about –– who knew how many people he might’ve killed?

Thus, the restaurant owner had decided to tell on the young monk. Hearing about this, the yamen’s officials had immediately decided to come and make the arrest.

As the monk looked over at the restaurant owner, the latter seemed possessed by guilt. He shrank his neck back, shrugged his shoulders, and stammered, "D-dashi, I..."

But before the restaurant owner could finish speaking, the monk had already looked away. With a flick of his finger, a black, lumpy thing soared across the air and landed in the restaurant owner's hands. Terrified that he was being attacked, the restaurant owner squeezed his eyes shut. But soon he heard the light, metallic sound of copper pieces knocking against each other, and carefully, meekly opened his eyes. 

The money pouch!

The object that the monk had thrown into his hands had been the money pouch that he had previously tried to give the monk. 

The monk seemed satisfied with this, so made to take another step. By now, he appeared a little impatient with the delay, so he coldly said to the yamen clerks, "Get out of the way." 

"Daren, [c] this..." The yamen clerks continued to block the monk, but looked back hesitantly at their shiye. 

"Hold on a minute." The shiye took out a thin slip of paper from his robe and shook it out against the lantern light. "Young shifu, where are you from? What temple do you belong to? Do you have a Dharma name?" 

The young monk stared back at him with a frown, as though he could not be bothered to speak; or perhaps he was preoccupied by something.

Suspicious, the Officer repeated himself, more aggressively this time. "Young shifu, someone reported you to us, saying that you look a great deal like the criminal that the imperial government is currently seeking all across the land. If you won't speak, I'll have to take you back and thoroughly interrogate you!"

The young monk glared at him, then, after a moment, calmly replied, "My Dharma name is Xuanmin. I am a rogue monk. I have no home, nor a temple."

Ordinary monks would never try to hide where they were from: they had no reason to. Eighty or ninety percent of the monks that claimed to have no temple nor sect used this fact to swindle their way into their next meal. In other words, most were scammers.

The shiye studied the monk with a cynical eye. Then, with a serious air, he shook the wanted poster once more, and ordered a clerk to bring a lantern closer to illuminate Xuanmin's face. 

Inside the pouch, Xue Xian listened to the scene with glee. You stuck your nose into my business, and look –– now someone's here to mess with yours! That's what you get!

Despite all his rummaging, Xue Xian hadn't found anything useful in the pouch. There was only a peach tree twig and two flints, and another, smaller pouch, inside which seemed to be a bundle of needles. All in all, nothing that he particularly wanted. Xue Xian was done delaying now –– he wanted to take advantage of the distraction and sneak away.

He was quite confident about his escape. With his skill, if he decided he didn’t want to be noticed by people, then most people would certainly not be able to detect his movements. As the shiye orated, Xue Xian stretched himself out into a thin sheet of paper and took a mighty leap toward the gap at the top of the pouch. 

But as soon as he poked his head out, he found himself plunged into darkness––

That damn bald donkey had the audacity to use the tip of his finger to shove Xue Xian’s paper head back into the pouch! 

Xue Xian: “...”

This untameable, prideful zuzong was enraged. He scrambled around inside the dark pouch and plucked one of the needles from the smaller pouch, then, with all the strength he could muster, he stuck it into the bald donkey's side. 

Xuanmin: “...”

Just as Xue Xian thought he was going to explode with frustration, the shiye finished comparing the monk to the poster. Frowning, he shook his head. "It's not right..."

"It's not?" The clerks behind him stretched their necks, trying to peek at the poster.

"The age isn't right, there's way too much of a gap," the shiye said. "He doesn't look that similar to the picture either... From afar there could be a resemblance, but once you bring the lantern over, he's just too young. The one we're looking for is a powerful high priest, [d] and this shifu..." 

The shiye looked down pointedly at Xuanmin’s hip, noting the dull grey color of the copper coin pendant. Although he said nothing, his expression was clear –– with a pendant as unimpressive as that, this monk was certainly as green as could be. A high priest? As if! 

What an obvious scammer! Anyone could see right through him. 

Having studied the pendant, the shiye’s expression now took on a sense of condescension. He waved a hand at Xuanmin and said, "Alright, young shifu, you may go now."

Xuanmin walked away without a word, brushing away the sequence of events as easily as one might remove a fallen leaf from one's sleeve. He was unperturbed.

But after only a couple of steps, he stopped and looked back nonchalantly at the shiye. Calmly, he said, "You don't have long to live."

Inside the pouch, Xue Xian began trembling with excitement, almost ripping himself apart with joy. “...” How great! He didn't even have to raise a finger –– this bald donkey had just signed his own death warrant! 

But as he tumbled, he accidentally hit something on the side of Xuanmin's hip bone, and there was a weng–––– sound in his mind, as though someone had rung an enormous bell inside his skull.

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[a] Shiye: see glossary.

[b] Yamen: see glossary.

[c] Daren: see glossary.

[d] Musuli used 高僧 (gao1 seng1) here, which literally means ‘high priest/monk’.