Iron Bull taucht wieder auf

Kapitel 148

The monk did not leave. After the other monks had left, he suddenly lowered his voice and said, "Mr. Feng, I have something to report."

I utterly despised his rude, obsequious attitude: "What is it?"

The fact that the monk Xiang immediately tried to seize the "Extreme Fire Pill" after Bumenlu's death left me with a very bad impression.

"Yes, yes, I'll just get to the point—Master Shenbi left behind a diary that details all the major and minor events that occurred during his nearly ten years as abbot of Fengge Temple. The diary is kept in a safe in the library. He repeatedly instructed me, Long, Shi, and Hu that if he were to die suddenly one day and not have time to leave a will, he wanted us to read his diary, especially the entries from the last three years. Since Mr. Feng possesses the Imperial Family's supreme gold coins, he must be a good friend of the Japanese. I believe Master Shenbi's spirit would be happy for you to read his diary."

The Sutra Repository stood abruptly behind several rows of courtyards. The monk, his face etched with fine wrinkles, wore a fawning smile: "Also, Mr. Feng, Shidao, who's in charge of tourist reception, contacted me. His job change will be addressed immediately—"

I didn't want to waste any more time arguing with him, so I interrupted him directly: "Well, you can decide what to do. You'll be the abbot of Fengge Temple in the future, and if possible, I'll also..." After throwing out this incredibly tempting bait, I turned and went into the courtyard. I believed that the gold coin would keep the elephant monk coveting it, hoping that I would bestow it upon him so that his power could expand even further.

The bed was covered with pictures, at least seventy of them.

The four people in the room remained silent. The newly pieced-together picture was a row of ten neat Buddhist shrines, each containing a Buddha statue sitting cross-legged.

“A Buddhist niche? Underwater too?” I wasn’t too surprised. After all, I’ve seen many similar things at tourist attractions like the Longmen Grottoes and the Mogao Grottoes in Dunhuang. As for underwater Buddhist niches, they have appeared in the waters near the Leshan Giant Buddha in Sichuan and the Siamese statue in Thailand before.

Xiao Keleng held a pencil and wrote something on the white paper in front of him, occasionally turning his head to look at the Buddhist shrines in deep thought.

The tycoon held the phone in his hand, but hadn't had time to dial. He was confused by the pictures all over the room and kept sighing softly.

“We’re missing a close-up. From this distance, we can’t tell what’s enshrined in the shrine—” Shao Bai gently stroked the paintings, pointed to one of them, and asked hesitantly, “Look, everyone, isn’t the sword hanging on the belt of this Buddha statue a Japanese sword?”

The Woto (倭刀) is simply a category of Japanese samurai swords, a weapon commonly used by Japanese pirates in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. These pirates were called Wokou (倭寇), and the long swords they carried were called "Woto".

“Yes, it’s a Japanese sword,” Zhang Baisen answered confidently.

"I just feel that there are no statues of gods who carry swords in Japanese Buddhist scriptures, so could the statues enshrined in these underwater shrines be statues of gods from some other religion?" Shao Bai scratched his head again, with gray dandruff falling from his messy hair.

Buddhism in various countries has developed over hundreds or even thousands of years to the point that the Buddha statues, scriptures, and stories of gods and Buddhas revered by the people of those countries have become relatively fixed. If someone were to add a new religion, it would certainly be rejected by the people as a "cult" or "heresy".

If they weren't Buddha statues of great significance, probably no one would hide them at the bottom of such deep water, and the identity of Tanino Shinshu becomes increasingly mysterious.

I picked up the drawing Shao Bai was pointing to and looked at it carefully several times. I felt that Guan Baoling's pencil lines seemed to be deliberately emphasizing the shape of the sword. Once again, Xiao Keleng and I seemed to understand each other, and she handed me a piece of paper. It showed an enlarged samurai sword, with a hilt about forty centimeters long, taking up a third of its total length.

“I’m really looking forward to the next batch of close-up details of this long sword – Mr. Feng, with your knowledge, you must have a deeper understanding of its origins, right?” Now everyone’s identities and relationships have become very special, like a special experimental group pieced together from scratch. People have become temporary colleagues, and Xiao Keleng is like one of my most considerate assistants, always helping me at the right time.

I held the piece of paper, thought for a moment, took out my phone, and walked towards the yard.

Shao Bai snorted in dissatisfaction, probably blaming me for deliberately hiding my discovery and not being honest enough.

Extreme curiosity and panic caused everyone to lose their appetite. Until this matter is completely over, everyone may forget that eating and sleeping are two things in life.

Before we knew it, the pale, setting sun had begun to sink into the west.

The monks swept the snow away from the courtyard. The snow that had melted in the morning had been frozen into glistening thin ice by the cold evening wind.

I paused under the eaves for a while, gazing once more at the enlarged drawing of the Japanese sword by Xiao Keleng, and finally couldn't resist dialing a phone number.

While waiting for the other party to answer the phone, I noticed a gray-robed monk standing guard on the roof tiles to the south, with a submachine gun slung over his shoulder; his appearance was quite strange. On the east and west walls and rooftops, there were sentries shivering from the cold; their bald heads blended into the snow, making them look rather comical.

"Hello, who is it?" The person who answered the phone had a hoarse voice and an attitude as rude as a butcher who had just come off an assembly line.

"Me." I only uttered one word, but the spectacular image of the other person, bare-chested and covered in body hair, quickly appeared in my mind. However, I knew that the one tool he would always have in his hand was not a butcher's knife, but a hammer.

"Haha, it's you—hmm? You're in Japan? Why don't you come over and spar with me? You know what? I just bought a swordsmanship manual from Nepal, it's definitely superior to all your Chinese martial arts. And also, I've successfully used cryogenic forging technology to increase the relative temperature difference during blade quenching to 300 degrees Celsius. A sharp sword forged under these conditions is more than ten times better than those 'cutting hair in an instant, killing without leaving blood' testing standards you mentioned. You absolutely have to come and see it..."

The receiver was filled with his incessant boasting, which made my temples throb once again.

The people that the monk Xiang mobilized didn't seem to be the main force of the temple. I suspect he completely ignored what I said. If all else fails, I'll consider bringing in people from the Divine Gun Society. At least they are more professional in gunfight formations and江湖恩仇杀 (jianghu vendettas).

If I were in charge, I would deploy snipers, navigators, and escort combat teams at at least the highest points within the temple. Currently, the locations offering a panoramic view of the entire temple are the top of the pagoda, the top of the scripture pavilion, and the temple gate. Controlling these three points would give us the upper hand and ensure our invincibility.

Most importantly, using highly skilled snipers in conjunction with combat teams to control the top of the tower would indirectly create a commanding surveillance position over the Meditation Hall.

"Hey, Feng, are you even listening to me?" the person on the other end of the line yelled.

“I’ve been listening, Mr. Butcher,” I replied lazily.

"Haha, you've missed another word. My full name should be 'Dragon Slayer Saber'—Asia's number one swordsmith, the Dragon Slayer Saber Master." He laughed smugly, his laughter mingled with the clanging of metal being hammered.

The title of Asia's foremost swordsmith is absolutely accurate. Before retiring to Mount Fuji, his fame was so great that even the world's richest men, like Bill Gates, felt ashamed of their own. The titles, status, and wealth he once possessed were astonishing. One particularly notable example is that the U.S. Military Quartermaster General offered him a high-ranking position and generous salary to serve as a consultant for the development of a new generation of tactical knives. They even asked Secretary of Defense Rumsfeld to act as an intermediary, but he refused without hesitation, stating that "the U.S. Special Forces have enough of a butcher's knife and there is no need for improvement."

Before retiring from public life, he liked to call himself "Butcher's Knife," meaning that all swords in the world, whether used to kill people, dogs, pigs, cattle, or horses, are inhumane acts of slaughter. Since it is slaughter, every killer is a butcher, whether it is the righteous forces of America and Britain, or the terrifying assassins like Bin Laden, the Mafia, or the Yamaguchi-gumi. Therefore, every knife he forged would ultimately become a butcher's knife.

After retiring from public life, he changed his name to "Dragon Slayer Saber" and stopped providing finished swords to any person or organization. Instead, he indulged his own whims, using forging and smelting as a pastime, occasionally casting some sword blanks for his own enjoyment.

"My friend, there are no such animals as dragons in the world. At most, there were strangely shaped plesiosaurs in the Jurassic period. So, at best, you'll end up like the dragon slayer in the Chinese fable, spending ten years learning the art of dragon slaying, only to find yourself with nowhere to use it. Do you understand?"

Being able to talk to such a master who is so devoted to the art of casting and who is detached from worldly affairs always makes me feel that my soul is purified and cultivated. It is a pity that he is Japanese. There are still some differences in culture, language and beliefs between friends, so we cannot completely integrate. We can only reach the point of "a gentleman's friendship is as light as water", and we do not talk about national affairs. We stop at the point of mentioning things.

The Dragon-Slaying Saber emitted a series of strange, cacophonous laughs, and the clanging and banging sounds increased more than twice as fast, as if it were keeping time with its own laughter.

“Feng, you Chinese like to say, ‘You don’t visit a temple without a reason.’ What kind of favor do you need?” His sense of smell was still sharp.

I held the painting up to my eyes and slowed my speech: "I want to buy a knife for my collection. Could you please give me your opinion on whether it's worth the price the seller is asking for?"

The Dragon Slayer Saber claims to know every saber in the world and every famous master forger. He says the information he has in his mind is twenty times greater than the core computer of the US arsenal.

Part Two: Ancient Temple Under the Dark Night

— Chapter 9 — The Dragon-Slaying Saber, the Extortionist (Part 1) —

"What kind of sword? With your discerning eye, you still can't decide? Are you deliberately trying to make things difficult for me?" The Dragon Slayer Sword laughed again. Having lived in the countryside at the foot of Mount Fuji for a long time, his loud voice was even more resonant and clear than before.

Our acquaintance began with a small incident at the Fuji Cherry Blossom Festival three years ago. It was a case of "no fight, no friendship" that led us to become close friends, eventually becoming spiritual confidants because we were both amazed by each other's superb martial arts skills and magnanimous spirit.

I laughed: "I'm not joking, but I feel that this Japanese sword, which has no obvious markings, must have a significant history—at least it wasn't made by any of the great blacksmiths of modern times."

The Dragon-Slaying Saber burst into another loud laugh: "Alright, tell me the proportions of the saber—"

"The hilt occupies one-third of the entire blade, which has two curved sections. The tip is sharply curved, somewhat resembling an Arab crescent-shaped katana, but its overall style leans towards ancient Japanese swords. If the crescent shape were removed, it would become a complete Japanese sword—"

I tried to make my vocabulary more precise, but unfortunately this is a quick sketch, not a brightly colored digital photograph.

"A sword that doesn't resemble anything? It seems there's no combination of a Japanese sword and a Persian scimitar in modern weaponry history—Feng, are there any inscriptions or other inlays on the hilt?" Judging the origin of a sword based on my extremely simple description is quite a challenge for him.

"Not yet, only a rough sketch." I looked at the door to Guan Baoling's room. The light was already on, and her and Shao Hei's silhouettes, one sitting and one standing, were vaguely reflected.

The Dragon-Slaying Saber hesitated for a moment, then suddenly asked, "Wind, tell me, where did this saber appear? And on whom was it worn?"

I answered truthfully: "If I said it was found hundreds of meters underwater, next to a Buddha statue in a shrine, would you accuse me of talking nonsense?"

The Dragon-Slaying Saber let out a soft "Ah!" and fell silent for a moment.

Guan Baoling opened the door a crack, and Shao Hei slipped a piece of paper through the crack before slowly closing the door again.

Before I could even get up, a gust of wind swept by and, quite by chance, blew it to my feet, right up.

It was a close-up of a knife, and it was the one Xiao Keleng had drawn. The blade was engraved with a series of miniature skulls. The ones behind were biting the back of the heads of those in front, ten in total, all the same shape and size, while the one in front had a thin leg bone in its mouth.

The hilt was even stranger; it was inlaid with ten sets of interlocking teeth. If one were to pick up this knife, both hands would be gripping a jagged array of human teeth.

Guan Baoling's painting skills are truly exquisite. With her messy lines, she vividly portrays the eerie and ghostly aura emanating from the knife.

I have absolutely no recollection of this knife.

"Hey, we have the detailed drawings for that knife. There are ten skulls engraved on the hilt—"

I only said that one sentence when the Dragon Slayer Saber let out a loud "Ah!" followed by a series of crashing noises, as if the iron hammer in his hand had been accidentally thrown out and hit some kind of miscellaneous shelf.

"Skull? Then... are there teeth embedded in the hilt? Ten sets of teeth, and this sword is made entirely of fine steel from start to finish, weighs ten kilograms, and the person selling it is a disgraceful descendant of the Japanese Yagami-ryu ninja? Right?" He shouted like Columbus had discovered a new continent.

"I don't know, I only have black and white pictures, I haven't seen the actual object." The Dragon Slayer Sword was so emotional, which shows that this sword has an extraordinary origin.

"Feng, listen to me, no matter what price they ask for, buy it! Buy it! I can pay ten times more to get it from you, I promise. This is the Fang Shen style... sigh, I don't have time to explain in detail, just buy it, you won't lose out. Also, there are ten of these same swords, you'd better get them all!" The Dragon Slayer's voice grew louder and louder, until finally it was like a vocalist practicing in a deserted wilderness, deafeningly loud.

There are indeed ten Buddha statues, but that doesn't mean that each one has a knife hanging next to it.

The Kibagami-ryu ninja school is completely unfamiliar to me, but how could a lowly ninja be so respectfully placed in a shrine and worshipped?

"Could you tell me about the wonders of these knives? Besides killing, what else is special about them?" I asked, but I didn't expect the Dragon Slayer Knife, in its heightened emotional state, to offer any more detailed or profound insights.

"Stop asking me these useless questions. If there's even the slightest chance, I urge you to seize it—"

I smiled silently. They were hidden hundreds of meters underwater and not so easy to get. Moreover, everything was just what Shao Hei had remotely sensed. The truth remained to be seen.

"Alright, I'll try my best to get those knives. Let's keep in touch—"

The Dragon Slayer hastily said goodbye, and before retracting the cord, I heard him loudly order someone: "Quickly, check the genealogy and whereabouts of the Yagami-ryu ninjas..."

I couldn't help but wonder: "What secrets does this sword hold that would excite even a seasoned sword like the Dragon Slayer Sword?"

The tycoon came out, stood under the eaves, and stared at Guan Baoling's silhouette.

As dusk deepened, the surrounding light was not too dim thanks to the reflection of the snow, and the occasional low coughs of the monks could be heard.

Separated only by a thin paper door, Daheng and I gazed together at the silhouette of that beautiful woman bent over her desk, writing furiously.

"I will save her, no matter who she goes with in the future." I took a deep breath, pulling myself out of my despair. Just then, the tycoon turned around, glaring at me coldly. His two "power and killing lines" trembled, his expression extremely domineering.

I smiled. There's no point in men arguing and fighting. Instead, we should use all this bravado to come up with ideas to help Guan Baoling.

"I will save her, take her away, and no one will dare to harm her—" He revealed sharp, white teeth, his tone cold as ice, filled with an arrogant and domineering air. This was the true nature of a tycoon: disregarding all natural laws and believing himself to possess a privilege that placed him above all others.

“From the first moment I saw her, I swore that I would cherish her with utmost care for the rest of my life and never let her suffer any injustice again. I have the ability to ensure that as long as I live on this planet, she will always be under my wing, able to dance happily at any time.” The tycoon’s voice was very low as he slowly walked up to me.

His words reminded me of Wang Jiangnan, facing the threat of losing an arm during the standoff in front of Fengge Temple. Anyone facing a tycoon would feel immense pressure, like a storm brewing.

“1.5 billion is not a problem, but I will only pay after I see her safe and sound—Feng, I am currently having people search for information on the Fang Demon, and I will have feedback soon. If you help me, I will be extremely grateful and will give you the most generous reward; if you don't help me, I will not force you, you know? Ever since I earned my first five million at the age of nineteen, I swore that I would only ask others for help, and I would never ask others for help.”

His words were too confident. Perhaps only a one-of-a-kind "tycoon" in the world has the right and confidence to say such things?

"Mr. Ye, 99% of the information left to the world by the Fang Demon consists of bizarre myths. To obtain anything useful, the best course of action is to access the core secrets of the Japanese Ministry of National Defense..." The information there is top-secret, classified information of the Japanese government, and will absolutely not be disclosed to outsiders. The only way is to hire a hacker to infiltrate the internet.

Before calling Tulongdao, I had recited Xiaoyan's phone number countless times. A super hacker like him could enter any node on the Internet as easily as cutting tofu with a sharp knife.

“Yes, I know. We’ve already hired the top three hackers on the global hacking list to work on it simultaneously—” He glanced at the Cartier diamond-encrusted platinum watch on his wrist, worth over a million dollars, and smiled with a hint of pride: “The data will be sent over in two hours.”

If he had hired Xiao Yan, then on this point everyone would have reached the same conclusion.

He had barely finished speaking when the phone rang. The melodious ringtone was the title track "My Favorite" from Guan Baoling's 2004 platinum record.

"Okay, the phone's ringing again!" the tycoon sneered.

"Is it an extortion call? A recording played every half hour?" I was very interested in the extortionist's identity. After all, not everyone can use the curse of the Fang Demon Cocoon to blackmail someone.

The tycoon pressed the call button, and a deep male voice came through: "Fifteen billion US dollars, with a one-month deadline. As a globally renowned tycoon, you can easily produce this money within twenty-four hours, but I'm being lenient by giving you a month, until your little beauty Guan Baoling is about to transform into the Fang Demon—I believe you will cooperate, and we will have a pleasant collaboration. However, I guarantee that such an unexpected event will only happen once, and will never happen again. Thank you."

The recording lasted thirty seconds, far short of the police department's sixty-second limit for sound wave tracking. If the other party was using a mobile phone, the shortest time the signal could be tracked by space communication satellites was thirty-five seconds. Anyone daring to challenge a tycoon like this is certainly no ordinary petty thief.

"Excellent, very good." The tycoon sneered as he put away the phone.

"I think that once I pay, the other party definitely won't go back on their word." That was my sixth sense.

"What's your basis for that?" The tycoon curled his lips, revealing sharp, white teeth.

I shook my head, intrigued by the words "Never again" spoken over the phone. 1.5 billion—enough for many to live a life of luxury and extravagance—but would the other party dare to lay a hand on a tycoon simply for the sake of their appetite? Impossible.