"Who exactly are you?" Xue Qiming’s tone was uncharacteristically serious.
Grandma Xi didn’t answer. Instead, she asked, "It must be excruciating by now... How much longer do you think you can last?"
A spine-tingling sharp cracking sound reverberated as Xue Qiming instinctively tilted his head.
"I’ve heard Xue Yinlong mention this technique a few times," Grandma Xi sighed. "An unbreakable skeleton is its very foundation. Only with a solid base can the practitioner withstand the true limits of the Indestructible Vajra body.
"Otherwise, the deeper one cultivates, the more every exertion grinds the bones down, inch by inch, crushed under the sheer pressure of their own muscles... Until the day comes when the entire skeleton is shattered, and the body collapses from sheer exhaustion."
Xue Qiming remained silent, his head lowered in thought.
Grandma Xi glanced sideways at his wine gourd. "Everyone thinks you’re an alcoholic. But the truth is?"
She planted her bamboo staff firmly into the ground and stood up. "I don’t know how far you’ve progressed in your cultivation, nor do I know how much longer you can endure—but judging by your immense strength, I’d wager your time is running short.
"How much longer can you protect her? Three years? Five?
"Tell me! Do you still think she’s better off following you? Or would she be safer staying here?
"You’d best figure it out yourself."
With that, she turned and left the room.
The bamboo house remained silent for a long time. The only sound was the howling wind rushing past the windows.
After a while, Xue Qiming suddenly seemed to snap back to reality. Glancing out the window, he muttered, "It’s getting late... I should be going."
"Young Hero Xue, you..." Grandfather Lan Zhuo hesitated, searching for words.
Xue Qiming paused mid-step, his back still facing the old man, and said in a low voice, "About Xue Niang’s parents..."
Grandfather Lan Zhuo sighed. "I already told you—after what you did for Shuiyun Village today, we are even. It’s settled."
Xue Qiming shook his head. "That’s not what I meant. There’s something suspicious about the job involving Xue Niang’s parents. It was classified as a top-tier mission, yet it was far too easy to complete. That alone suggests some hidden cause—something that wasn’t meant to be known to outsiders.
"I’ve had my doubts for a long time but never managed to uncover the truth.
"This time, I’ll investigate it thoroughly and find an answer for Xue Niang...
"If I still have enough time."
With that, Xue Qiming pushed open the door and walked out.
Year 200 of the Ruen Dynasty.
At the foot of the Lingnan Mountains, Hongfeng Town.
Through the morning mist, an old monk stepped into town.
The monk was tall and broad-shouldered, his robust frame hidden beneath his loose monk’s robe. His bald head bore the searing marks of a Buddhist monk, but his naturally sharp, angular eyes gave no impression of kindness or mercy. The restrained brilliance within his gaze made others hesitant to meet his eyes.
By now, Hongfeng Town had reached its liveliest hour of the morning. Vendors selling vegetables, meat, and cooked food had set up their stalls, and their boisterous calls filled the air.
The old monk approached a bun stall and retrieved four copper coins from his robe’s sleeve. "Two meat buns."
The vendor recognized him at once and greeted him with a smile. "Master Zhishan, down from the mountain again? Are you here to guide more lost souls across the sea of suffering this time?"
The old monk lowered his eyelids, looking as though he had not slept well. He nodded slightly. "The sea of suffering is boundless. I have yet to ferry myself across—how could I ferry others?"
It was clear that the vendor was somewhat familiar with the monk, as he chuckled and said, "Alright, alright. Master Zhishan, your Buddhist teachings are too profound for me. I don’t understand a word of what you’re saying."
As the vendor opened the steamer and picked through the buns, he asked, "So what brings you down the mountain this time?"
The old monk handed over the coins and replied, "The temple is running low on incense and candles. I came down to buy some."
As they were talking, a small beggar suddenly darted out from a side alley, reaching straight for the steaming buns.
Bang! The vendor slammed the steamer lid shut, trapping the child’s hand inside.
"Again?!" The vendor seized the beggar by the ear, cursing. "This is the fourth time! Do you really think I won’t haul you off to the authorities?"
The little beggar was terrified and burst into tears.
The old monk furrowed his brows and spoke gently, "It’s just a poor child. Give him a bun and let it be."
The vendor forced a smile. "Master, you don’t understand. These little beggars don’t know gratitude. At first, they only asked for food, but we’re just small businesses. We can’t afford to feed them every day.
"Then they got worse. When we stopped giving, they started stealing outright! Ask anyone on this street! Every shop has been hit at least once!
"If they were only snatching food, that’d be one thing. But lately, these brats have been getting bolder, picking pockets and sneaking off with whatever they can grab. Someone must be putting them up to it."
The old monk studied the little beggar for a moment, then lifted the steamer lid with a calm hand. "Let him go."
The child sniffled as the old monk handed him a bun. Then, reaching into his robe, the monk pulled out a small ingot of silver and placed it in the child’s palm.
"The nature of man is inherently good. No matter where you stand, redemption is always within reach. Go now."
The little beggar forgot to cry. He stared at the old monk, then at the silver in his hand.
In the next instant, he snatched the bun and the silver and ran.
The vendor sighed and shook his head. "Ah! Master, you are really..."
"Really what?" The old monk raised an eyebrow.
"It’s like you're throwing a meat bun at a dog!" The vendor spat in the direction the beggar had run. "Your kindness won't help anyone!"
The old monk chuckled, picked up his buns, and left. He spent the rest of the morning purchasing incense and candles, instructing the vendors to deliver them to the temple as soon as possible. Then, he stopped by a tavern, packed up a roast chicken, and prepared to return up the mountain.
Not far outside the city, as he walked along the road, the old monk’s lips curled slightly. Shaking his head with a helpless smile, he murmured, "Throwing a meat bun at a dog, huh..."
"That’s the monk!" A young voice called out from a grove beside the road.
As the voice spoke, a group of small figures emerged from the trees. It was a group of children—a gang of young beggars, none older than fifteen or sixteen.
Leading them was the same small beggar the old monk had met that morning. Pointing at him from afar, the boy shouted, "It’s him! He gave me money this morning—he must have more on him!"
The crowd parted, and a sturdy-looking beggar boy stepped forward. He seemed only eleven or twelve, yet his dark, lively eyes gleamed with cunning. With a smirk, he wagged a finger at the old monk. "Hey, old monk, hand over whatever valuables you got. Save yourself the trouble of getting that old body of yours beaten up."
The old monk regarded the obvious leader of the group with interest. Taking a step forward, he smiled. "My old bones are pretty tough. Why don’t you come and try them for yourself?"
The young beggar’s eyes narrowed, and he took a step back into the crowd. "This old geezer doesn’t know what’s good for him. Get him! Strip him clean!"
At his command, the gang of beggars charged toward the old monk all at once.
The old monk’s grin widened, but he remained unhurried. Instead, he slowly lifted one foot...
In the next instant, he stomped down—
The ground trembled, the earth shook!