"We are going southwest," Zhao Min replied.
They took the horses the Mongolian soldiers left behind, and leaving the main road, they walked toward the southwest on the wilderness. It was actually a rugged rocky path, full of brambles, which pricked their horses' legs so that they were dripping with blood. Stumbling and limping, they only managed to cover twenty some 'li's within two hours of travel.
The sky turned dark. Suddenly they saw a wisp of smoke coming from a chimney of some building in the valley ahead. Zhang Wuji was delighted. "There are houses ahead, we can lodge in someone's home," he said.
When they got near, under the shadow of a big tree they saw the corner of a yellow wall. Turned out it was a temple. Zhao Min helped Zhang Wuji dismount the horse, and then she turned the horses' heads toward the west. Picking up a thorny branch from the ground, she whipped the horses' buttocks several times. The horses let a long neigh, and leaped away to the west.
By what she did, Zhao Min was trying to create yet another diversion to Wang Baobao's pursuing soldiers. By losing their rides, the journey would be more difficult; but she did not give it too much thought. Right now, she was taking their journey one step at a time.
Two people supporting each other walked toward the front of the temple. They saw the tablet by the door had a four-character inscription, 'zhong yue shen miao' [Mount Song (in Henan, one of Five Sacred Mountains) divine temple].
Zhao Min lifted the ring of the gate and knocked three times. She waited for half a day without anybody answering the door, so she knocked three more times. Suddenly from behind the door came a grim voice, "Is it a man or a ghost? Or is it a living corpse?"
The wooden gate opened with a creaking noise. Behind it they saw a shadow. It was dusk, the dark was deepening. That man's back was against the light, so they could not see his face clearly. But from his bald head and the monk robe he was wearing, he was obviously a Buddhist monk.
Zhang Wuji said, "We [orig. 'zai4 xia4' – 'under'] brother and sister, were robbed an injured during our journey. We hope we can spend the night in your precious monastery, we are asking Da Shi ['great master', reverend] to show mercy."
"Humph," the man snorted, and then with a cold voice said, "Those who leave home [meaning, becoming Buddhist monks or nuns] do not usually provide convenience to others. You better go." Immediately he closed the door.
"Helping others is helping self," Zhao Min hastily said, "By helping us, you might not necessarily without any benefit."
"What benefit?" that man asked.
Zhao Min reached up to her ears to take her pair of pearl earrings out, and handed them over to him. The monk saw that each earring had a bead of pearl as big as the tip of his little finger. He sized the two people up, and then said, "All right, helping others is helping self." He moved aside to let them in.
Holding up Zhang Wuji, Zhao Min led him entered in. The monk took them pass through the main hall and a courtyard, to a room on the eastern side of the temple. "You can sleep here," he said.
There was neither light nor fire inside the room, it was as dark as a cave. Zhao Min groped around on the bed. There was nothing else on the bed other than a sheet of straw woven mat. They heard a loud and clear voice calling out from outside, "Hao Si Di [fourth younger brother Hao], whom did you let in?"
"A couple of guests seeking lodging for the night," the monk replied, while stepping out of the room.
"Reverend," Zhao Min called, "Could you please donate two bowl of rice and some plain vegetable dish?"
"Those who left homes receive alms; we do not give to charity," the monk said in haughty tone while striding away.
"This monk is terrible!" Zhao Min bitterly said, "Wuji Gege, you must be very hungry. We must find something to eat tonight."
Suddenly they heard several footsteps coming from the courtyard, as seven, eight men came in. Flame flickered, the door was pushed open and two monks lifted up candlesticks in their hands to illuminate the faces of Zhang Wuji and Zhao Min. In a glimpse Zhang Wuji saw eight monks, short and tall, one had thick eyebrows and huge bulging eyes, the other had face full of wrinkles; none of them had a friendly face.
The old monk with wrinkles said, "Whatever money and jewelry you have, take them all out."
"What for?" Zhao Min asked.
The old monk laughed and said, "Because of fate two benefactors have come over here, just happened to visit this little temple, which is about to carry out a great undertaking: reconstructing the main gate, and repairing the inlay of the golden idol. The benefactors' money and jewelry must be donated. If not, you are offending the Buddha; and then you will be in great trouble."
Zhao Min was indignant. "Isn't that the misdeed of the robbers?" she asked.
"It's sin! It's sin!" the old monk said, "We, eight brothers, used to kill people and burn their houses; we robbed and did all kinds of shady businesses. But recently we laid down our sabers to follow the teachings of Buddha, and so we became casual Buddhist monks. Benefactors have been brought here by karma; the fat sheep has arrived to our door on its own account. Ay, you have made things difficult for us who have left our homes; we are no longer able to keep our purity."
Zhang Wuji and Zhao Min were very shocked; they did not expect these eight monks were former big bandits. This old monk had been speaking quite bluntly. It sounded like he was going to kill them; he did not even try to keep it a secret, neither did he show any intention to let them go.
Another fierce looking monk said with a laugh, "Miss Benefactor need not be afraid; while we eight monks are robbing and plundering, we lack a mistress to take care of the temple. You have such a beautiful face, truly as if the 'Guan Shi Yin Pu Sa' [Guanyin Bodhisattva, the Goddess of Mercy] descends to the earth. Even if Buddha himself saw you, his heart would have been moved. Wonderful! Wonderful!"
From her pocket Zhao Min pulled out some seven, eight golden ingots and a string of pearls, and placed them all on the table. "All I have is here," she said, "We, brother and sister, are also Wulin people. Gentlemen must respect the Jianghu's 'yi qi' [spirit of loyalty, code of brotherhood]."
The old monk laughed and said, "So you two are Wulin people, nothing can be better than that. I wonder which school do you belong to?"
"We are Shaolin disciple," Zhao Min said. Shaolin Pai was the number one major sect in the Wulin world. Zhao Min was hoping that these if eight men were not Shaolin disciples, perhaps one of their friends or relatives were somewhat related to Shaolin.
The old monk was startled, his eyes suddenly shone with murderous look. "Shaolin disciples?" he said, "That's truly unfortunate! You two babies should really blame yourself for belonging to the wrong school."
He reached out to pull Zhao Min's wrist. Zhao Min quickly withdrew her hand so the old monk ended up grabbing empty air. Zhang Wuji realized the critical situation they were in. Both Zhao Min and he were heavily injured; it was extremely difficult to fight the enemy. They had battled countless well-known Wulin characters these past several years; would they lose their lives today in the hands of eight nameless lowly robbers? No matter what, he could not let Zhao Min being disgraced without him doing something. Thereupon he said, "Min Mei, hide behind me. I have a way to deal with these eight lowly thieves."