Early Spring Journey

After another half cup of tea time, someone rushed over, shouting loudly, “Who dares to trespass Shaolin at night?” Chuxia looked towards the flickering light of the torches, seeing a group of Shaolin warrior monks, each holding a brown staff, moving like a dragon, swift as the wind, instantly surrounding the two of them. The leading warrior monk was extremely tall, standing in the middle of the path with an imposing presence, his muscular frame intimidating, clearly an external martial arts master. The monk spoke in a deep voice, “That man, drop your weapon and come with me to see the abbot.” The young master stood with his hands behind his back, only smiling faintly, “Is it now forbidden to wander Songshan at night, must one be sent to Shaolin’s disciplinary hall?” The monk sneered, “Shaoshi Mountain is under Shaolin’s jurisdiction, how can you come and go as you please?” The young master turned back, seeing Chuxia’s somewhat pale face, sighed, “They want to detain us, what do you think we should do?” Seeing the young master’s smile in the firelight, Chuxia suddenly felt at ease; she raised her chin slightly, deliberately loud, “Are monks now no different from bandits, using long sticks to scare people and demanding they stay?” Chuxia was always quick-witted and articulate, her words making the monk’s face flush with embarrassment, only able to snort heavily. The night wind suddenly picked up, lifting the young master’s robe, the dark blue hem fluttering, and he stood there with his hands behind his back, only smiling faintly at Chuxia, “Let’s go down now; by the time we reach the foot of the mountain, it will be dawn.” The group of warrior monks tightened their encirclement, the moist air seemingly laced with sharp blades, making it hard to breathe. The young master spoke softly, “You cannot detain me. It’s better not to act.” Before his words fell, another fire dragon approached from a different path, someone shouted, “Stop them! They killed Master Tufeng!” This statement was like a thunderbolt. Chuxia almost couldn’t stand, realizing they had fallen into a terrible trap. Her heart pounded; she glanced down to see the young master’s right hand resting on the handle of his sword, his previous ease now gone, his eyebrows slanted into his temples, lips tight, silent. The monks were uncertain, exchanging glances, the leader finally asked, “Speak slowly, what happened to Master Tufeng?” The young monk, panting, said, “They killed Master Tufeng, escaped… stop them!” Chuxia couldn’t help but say, “Master Tufeng was fine – who says we killed him?” The monks looked at each other with strange expressions, the young monk’s face momentarily twisted as if seeing something terrifying, his speech faltering, “You… you are a woman! It’s you! It’s you!” Before Chuxia could respond, the leading monk struck out with a palm, the force rushing towards Chuxia. The young master stepped forward half a step, effortlessly deflecting the palm strike, but a few strands of force escaped, causing Chuxia’s headscarf to fall, revealing her flowing black hair. “Indeed a woman,” the monk exclaimed, “Who are you exactly?” “It’s this scent!” The young monk burst into tears, “Where Master Tufeng was killed, there was this faint floral scent, just like the scent on you!” Chuxia lifted her sleeve, sniffed lightly, somewhat puzzled, “What scent?” The young master felt a chill in his heart; he knew Chuxia indeed carried a faint scent of orchids, though she was unaware of it, so he hadn’t mentioned it. He stepped forward again, shielding Chuxia behind him, solemnly saying, “We did visit Master Tufeng earlier, but when we left, he was safe and we agreed to meet again tomorrow. Has he… really passed away?” The young monk wiped his tears, “Master Tufeng was killed! You two thieves, I saw the murderer was a woman’s silhouette, and now you’re the only woman on this mountain, still trying to argue!” Before he finished, the monk’s voice thundered, “Form the formation, capture these two!” The young master gently placed his hand on Chuxia’s waist, his palm force softly guiding her to stand by the cliff on the cypress path, while his other hand unsheathed his sword, revealing its snow-white blade. Before the monks could fully form their formation, a flash of light appeared before them, and their staff heads were cut off. The staffs were made from iron birch, wrapped in copper, as hard as metal, yet this young man moved like a phantom, effortlessly severing the long sticks, showcasing an extraordinary skill. After striking, the young master retreated, his voice deep and resonant, “Jun Ye’an from Cangzhou, seeking to meet Master Kongfeng of Shaolin.” He repeated it three times, his voice echoing across Shaoshi Mountain, causing a stir among everyone present. The leading monk, holding half a staff, looked shocked, “You… are you Jun Ye’an?” The young master nodded slightly, sheathing his sword, only saying softly, “Gentlemen, I apologize for the offense just now.” For a moment, no one dared to step forward. Soon after, a group of people dressed in grey monk robes, their garments fluttering, descended from above. Leading them was a senior monk with a gaunt face and a tall, slender figure; it was none other than Master Kongfeng, the abbot of Shaolin Temple. The warrior monks made way, and Master Kongfeng, holding his prayer beads, approached slowly. Jun Ye’an respectfully greeted him with junior etiquette, “Apologies for visiting Shaolin at such an ungodly hour, I hope you will forgive me.” Master Kongfeng slightly extended his right arm in a gesture to waive the formalities, his gentle inner energy lifting Jun Ye’an up. “Young Master Jun, there is no need for such formalities.” Meeting the gaze of Master Kongfeng, Ye’an lowered his voice, “This young monk mentioned that Master Tufeng was murdered… I wonder if this is true?” Master Kongfeng sighed with his eyes closed, “Indeed, Master Tufeng has passed away. His throat was slit, and all his hair and beard were shaved off; he was indeed murdered.”