When Yuan Guang and Yuan Tong heard the words of Patriarch Aluos, they were at first full of disbelief. Yet their hearts trembled, their faces betraying shock as they blurted out:
"Did the Abbot truly say this?"
Patriarch Aluos's expression grew solemn, his voice firm:
"Every word I have spoken is true. All who were present that day can bear witness."
At this, Liu Yun, who stood nearby, smiled faintly and said softly:
"Patriarch Aluos is a man of the Way—how could he speak falsehood? If the two masters still doubt, you need only ask those who attended that day, and you will know the truth for yourselves."
Seeing the two monks visibly shaken, Wu Tong seized the moment:
"Both masters possess formidable skill, yet have long been stifled and frustrated. At the Heroes' Assembly you indeed suffered injustice. When the Abbot later learned of the true circumstances, he blamed himself deeply, filled with remorse. I, the junior, have one proposal that might clear your path forward—would you be willing to lend me your ears?"
The two monks exchanged a glance. Hesitation flickered in their eyes before Yuan Guang finally said:
"Young hero, please speak freely. We are willing to listen."
Wu Tong nodded slightly, his tone calm and steady:
"Some days ago I passed through Wendeng County in Hebei and visited the Great Mercy Temple there. At that time, rebels of the Maitreya Sect had risen in revolt—they desecrated the temple, slew monks wantonly, and left its incense offerings nearly extinguished. By chance I intervened, saved the resident monks, and preserved the temple. Later, the abbot there lamented that no great master remained to safeguard the Dharma and restore the incense. If you two masters are willing, why not go there to cultivate, revive the temple, and walk once more upon the true path of the Buddha? You would leave behind strife and contention, and devote yourselves to the Dharma—would that not be a most worthy endeavor?"
Hearing this, Yuan Tong's eyes lit faintly and he asked eagerly:
"Is this truly so?"
But Yuan Guang still harbored suspicion. His brows furrowed as he said gravely:
"Elder brother, could this not be some trick? Where in the world are fortunes so neatly arranged? The young hero's words are pleasing to the ear, but we are no longer naïve novices—how can we trust so easily?"
Zhao Rou, seeing their doubt, smiled gently and spoke kindly:
"If the two masters remain uncertain, why not let me accompany you? I myself have met the abbot of Great Mercy Temple. If you are willing to go, I shall lead you there personally, as proof of our sincerity."
At her words, Yuan Guang and Yuan Tong exchanged glances once more. In their eyes now flickered not only doubt but also a glimmer of contemplation…
Indeed, their hearts were stirred. Before them seemed to open a path away from worldly feuds, back toward the pure light of the Dharma. Yet just as their wavering hearts began to incline, a cold laugh suddenly cut through the air, shattering their fragile resolve.
"Masters, do not be deceived by their honeyed words! Since you have left Shaolin, you should raise your banners, found your own temple, rule as abbots, and command the Dharma of your own domain! That is the destiny of disciples of the Buddha!"
The speaker was a pale-faced middle-aged man in a silver-white robe, his gaze dark, his aura chilling. He was none other than Bai Mu, one of the Four Envoys of the True God Palace.
The monks' resolve, already softening, was doused as if with cold water. Their hearts once again wavered.
Hearing this, Li Qian's anger flared. She rebuked him sharply:
"And what business is this of yours? Why sow discord and obstruct them from going to Great Mercy Temple? Could it be that the True God Palace does not seek the Dharma at all, but only chaos in the realm?"
Bai Mu threw back his head and laughed, eyes cold and mocking:
"Ha! Naïve girl! Yuan Guang, Yuan Tong—have you forgotten how Shaolin treated you? Do not delude yourselves. Remember the past lest it become your teacher! This so-called 'return to the shore' is but a ruse to chain you once more, to make you slaves. Will you truly submit to humiliation again?"
His words, like venomous fangs, pierced the monks' hearts. The doubt and bitterness they had begun to shed now surged back with renewed force.
Wu Tong felt his chest tighten. He recalled the abbot's parting words: "Persuade them with reason, move them with compassion, and, if need be, press them with power—only thus may they return to the righteous path."
He had spoken reason. He had appealed to compassion. Yet still they wavered. Now only stern force could cut away the poison. His voice sank, cold and heavy:
"Masters, I have spoken for your sake, urging you toward the right path. But if you persist in delusion, coveting what is not yours, seeking to seize temples by force—then blame me not for ruthlessness! If you are set upon death, I will strike you down without mercy!"
Murderous intent filled the air. Yet after a moment he eased his tone, gaze steady, and added:
"If you still refuse to yield, then let us decide this by combat. Should you defeat me, I will withdraw at once and never interfere. But if I prevail, then you must swear to go to Great Mercy Temple, abandon strife, and devote yourselves once more to pure cultivation. What say you?"
The two monks exchanged a long look, whispering to one another. Their thoughts churned. If we cannot even best Wu Tong, how could we hope to seize a temple of our own? To lose here might not be dishonor, but a path to retreat with dignity.
After some moments, Yuan Guang nodded solemnly:
"The young hero speaks reason. Let the Buddha decide our future!"
Yuan Tong added:
"Right and wrong, gain and loss—let this battle judge it!"
The two stepped forth together, eyes resolute, ready to stake their fate on this contest.
Above, clouds drifted across the autumn sky. A cold northern wind swept the courtyard, tugging at their robes. The three men stood facing one another, stances firm, spirits focused, the air between them sharp as drawn blades.
With a sudden cry, Yuan Tong attacked first, surging toward Wu Tong's left, while Yuan Guang closed in on his right. Their strikes came swift as lightning, fierce palm winds roaring. Wu Tong did not retreat—instead he advanced boldly, his movements light as a shadow, his palms shifting with endless variation.
Yuan Tong unleashed the Mighty Vajra Palm, its force enough to shake stone. Yuan Guang's Dragon Claw Hand clawed the air, ten fingers hooked like talons, sealing every escape. Yet Wu Tong, calm as still water, waited for the perfect instant.
Smack! With a deft twist he caught Yuan Tong's palm, redirected its force, and sent him staggering. Yuan Guang lunged in with a claw—Wu Tong spun, reversed, and chopped toward his chest. Shocked, Yuan Guang had to retreat in haste. But Wu Tong pressed forward like a snake chasing a staff, giving no reprieve.
Yuan Tong, regaining footing, struck fiercely for Wu Tong's crown. Wu Tong's body swayed and sprang upward, twisting in the air like a wild goose diving into the sea. From above he descended with the dazzling move "Flying Wild Geese Entering the Sea". The two monks joined forces, pushing with all their might to meet him head-on.
"Boom! Boom!" Twin shocks reverberated. All three staggered apart. But while Wu Tong stood firm, the two monks were forced back several paces, their chests heaving, their qi in turmoil. They realized in shock that his inner strength surpassed theirs beyond measure.
Wu Tong clasped his hands politely:
"Masters, please—exert all your skill. I will meet you with everything I have."
The monks' hearts quaked. Once, fighting Jia Yong alone had already strained them to defeat. Now even together, they could not gain advantage—this Wu Tong was of far higher caliber, his skill verging on the transcendent.
Yet pride forbade surrender. With a shout, they rallied, launching another furious assault. Wu Tong now shifted to subtle defense, dismantling each strike with effortless grace. The courtyard filled with howling winds, fists and palms clashing like waves upon rocks.
Suddenly Yuan Tong stabbed his fingers toward Wu Tong's chest like spears, while Yuan Guang hurled both fists to cut off retreat.
But Wu Tong's body twisted in uncanny spirals, ghostlike. In a flash he had slipped through their net. His hand feinted, then shifted into the Six Phantasmal Palms—the third form, "Illusion is Real." The monks, stunned, could not tell truth from falsehood. In a heartbeat they were overwhelmed.
"Bang! Bang!" Each took a heavy palm to the chest, staggering back in shock. Wu Tong had pulled his force, sparing them serious harm.
The monks steadied themselves, faces pale with awe. They knew the truth—victory was impossible.
Wu Tong smiled faintly, bowing:
"Forgive my offense."
The two monks returned the bow, voices loud and sincere:
"Lord Wu's martial skill is unmatched. We submit! We ask only that you honor your word."
Wu Tong replied firmly:
"A gentleman's word is as iron. I will never go back on my promise."
But just then, a cold laugh rang out, shattering the fragile peace:
"Hahaha! Yuan Guang, Yuan Tong—what spineless cowards you are!"
All turned. Bai Mu stepped forth, eyes glinting, voice sharp as ice:
"The Palace Master himself honored you as heroes. When you were at your lowest, did you not beg the True God Palace for aid? Did not the Palace Master promise to help you seize Da Qin Temple? And now—you would abandon all so lightly? What a pathetic jest!"
Shame flooded the monks' faces. They hung their heads, unable to reply.
At length Yuan Tong whispered:
"Brother Bai, this task is beyond us. You saw it yourself—Lord Wu's skill is divine. With our strength, it cannot be done. Since leaving Shaolin we have wandered without refuge, yet Lord Wu has shown us a true path. Today we lost in fair contest, and we must abide by our word. I beg you, Brother Bai, explain this to the Palace Master. Tell him we are sorry…"
Bai Mu's eyes darkened, his face hard and cold. Though he said nothing, the air grew tense, the atmosphere thick with foreboding…