Yuántōng sneered coldly and said in a low voice,"I left Shaolin long ago. I have founded my own sect. Shaolin should stop meddling in my affairs!"His tone carried both provocation and disdain, showing not the slightest respect for his former sect.
The Chief Monk Běnguāng frowned at these words, a trace of anger flashing in his eyes. Yet for the sake of the greater good, he suppressed his fury and said in a deep voice:"Today's matter has not yet been reported to the abbot. For the sake of our past brotherhood, I urge you two to turn back before it is too late. Return to Shaolin, face the wall in repentance, and cleanse your hearts. If this matter can be dropped here, we will act as if nothing has happened. What say you?"
Though Běnguāng spoke with compassion, his words carried unyielding authority. After all, Shaolin was the pillar of the martial world, its rules strict—how could it allow disciples to betray their sect and establish their own faction?
Yet Yuánguāng only gave a cold snort, utterly unmoved."We have already left Shaolin, and our minds are set. Why should we return? Uncle, you meddle far too much."His eyes blazed with arrogance, making it clear he had no intention of heeding the advice.
At this, the West Hall Monk Běnxīn could no longer hold back his fury. He shouted angrily:"You two have violated our monastic rules and deserve punishment! Today, your uncle is merciful, willing to spare you for the sake of brotherhood, but instead of being grateful, you grow even more insolent! Now you dare to proclaim your betrayal openly, treating Shaolin's rules as nothing! Do you take this temple as a place where you may act wantonly?"
Yuántōng only laughed with disdain."Say what you will! If you call us traitors, so be it! We have founded our own sect and have nothing more to do with Shaolin! Today, we will drive these foreign cults out of Dàqín Temple—this place should belong to us!"
Běnguāng's eyes turned cold, his voice deep and forceful:"Today's matter—just as a nation has its laws, a temple has its rules! Shaolin's centuries of reputation cannot be destroyed by the two of you!"
Yuánguāng glared back, shouting proudly:"And what of Shaolin? The martial world is in chaos—strength alone makes one king. Whoever claims the land, he is the new ruler!"
Běnxīn, hearing this, could no longer restrain his wrath. Seeing the two men persist in their delusion—scheming to seize temples and disgrace Shaolin in broad daylight—he bellowed:"You fools! You insult Shaolin openly and tarnish its name. Today, I will cleanse the sect on behalf of the abbot and restore justice to the martial world!"
Before his words had finished, Běnxīn leapt skyward, his palms crashing down with the force of a mountain, aimed directly at Yuántōng's crown. The strike carried terrifying power—none doubted that if it landed, Yuántōng would be killed instantly!
Yuántōng's face changed. He darted back several steps and roared:"Uncle, since you are so heartless, do not blame me for showing no mercy! Out of respect I held back, but if you seek my life, then behold my strength!"With that, his palms shot forth, and in midair he clashed fiercely with Běnxīn.
A deafening boom echoed as their forces collided. Dust and debris flew, tables and chairs shook violently. Both men were thrown back several yards before landing steadily on their feet. Běnxīn frowned slightly, thinking:"This wretch's inner power has grown stronger…"Yet determined to purge betrayal, he advanced again, his palms surging forth like thunder.
Yuántōng evaded lightly, but Běnxīn pressed hard, unleashing Shaolin's Dragon Claw technique. Strike after strike rained down, claws flashing in rapid succession. Yuántōng, however, sidestepped with ease, sneering inwardly:"I still respect you as my uncle—I'll let you have a few moves first!"
Hearing this, Běnxīn grew even angrier:"Traitor! You and I have no bond left—defend yourself!"But each time his claws struck, Yuántōng slipped away.
Shaolin's martial arts had long declined—peace in the Tang era left monks more devoted to sutras than combat. Thus Yuántōng and Yuánguāng were among its few true talents. Yet even they had been defeated by Jiǎ Yǒng at the Rebel-Suppressing Assembly. Truly, Shaolin was no longer what it once was.
At last Yuántōng snarled:"Enough! Now, see my skill!"His palms turned to claws, surging forth in a relentless barrage. His Dragon Claw technique surpassed even Běnxīn's in power. Blow after blow forced the elder monk back. Yuántōng taunted:"If it's a contest, uncle—you are no match for me!"
Běnxīn seized the moment as Yuántōng spoke, launching two swift strikes. Yet Yuántōng, without even pausing in speech, slipped past all three attacks."Uncle, are you not winded already? Barely fifty moves, and you gasp for breath!"
Běnxīn roared back:"Traitor! If you truly had ability, why were you defeated by a mere youth at the assembly?"
Yuántōng, his patience gone, burst into fury."You chant sutras all day and never trained us properly! What right have you to criticize? Enough words—take this!"
He surged forward, combining fists, palms, and claws in a flurry of attacks. Suddenly his palm struck true. With a thunderous crack, Běnxīn was hurled backward, blood spraying from his mouth.
Běnguāng rushed forward to catch him, checking his pulse. Though shaken, Běnxīn was not fatally harmed. His face pale, eyes blazing with rage, he spat:"Wretch… to strike your own uncle so viciously… after all Shaolin has given you!"
At that moment, Zhào Róu, Lǐ Qiàn, and Liú Yún arrived. Seeing the bitter conflict, they frowned deeply. Lǐ Qiàn shouted in fury:"How dare you raise your hand against your own uncle? Shaolin nurtured you, and this is how you repay them?"
Yuántōng sneered coldly:"Everyone saw it—Běnxīn's first strike aimed to kill me! I never wished to harm him, but Shaolin forces me, giving no thought to our bond. I merely defended myself—am I to blame?"
Liú Yún, her brows arched in anger, was about to retort, even to strike, but Wú Tōng gently grasped her wrist and shook his head. He knew this was Shaolin's internal matter—outsiders had no place to interfere.
At last Běnguāng spoke with heavy solemnity:"Shaolin raised and taught you with care, yet today you betray your sect and plot to seize another temple. Is this how you repay your years of training?"
Yuánguāng's eyes blazed with bitterness. Suddenly, he burst into wild laughter."Shaolin treated us well? Absurd—utterly absurd!"
The crowd froze, puzzled at his sudden laughter. Yuánguāng's voice grew harsher, laced with hatred:"All our days were spent in endless training, chanting, and meditation. We thought Shaolin's arts were supreme, unmatched under heaven. Yet at the assembly we discovered the truth—our so-called pride was worthless!"
His voice trembled with fury."After years of toil, we were defeated by a mere youth! Where was Shaolin's glory then? What face had we left? And when we returned, instead of comfort, our fellow monks mocked us, called us shameful, disgraces to Shaolin! Tell me, uncle—how could we endure that?"
Silence fell.
Zhào Róu frowned and whispered to Wú Tōng:"They are traitors indeed, yet their words hold some truth. No wonder they grew bitter."
Wú Tōng nodded faintly."Shaolin's legacy is deep, but if it clings to the past and neglects progress, it will fall behind the times. Yuánguāng's grievances are not baseless. Yet to let such resentment lead them to seize temples and betray their order… there is no turning back."