The sky over the rivers and lakes is very clear - Chapter 116
Since no one spoke, Monk Guangren didn't want to make a fool of himself. He sat on his prayer mat, counting his prayer beads, pondering how to spend the fifty taels of silver. The courtyard wall needed reinforcing, the roof needed repairing, and then he had to go to the pawnshop to redeem the land deeds for those five acres of land. That would leave him with very little…
Suddenly, a horse neighed outside the temple. Before Guangren could react, his vision blurred and the coachman was no longer in the same spot.
Just as Guangren was about to speak, he suddenly felt raindrops hitting his face, and a young woman gracefully entered the hall.
She was an extremely beautiful woman.
Her pale blue clothes were soaked through by the rain, her skirt was stained with mud, her hair was disheveled, and there were bloodstains on her body; she looked extremely wretched. Yet, those who saw her couldn't help but feel ashamed of themselves.
She was like a Udumbara flower blooming in the mountains after the rain. When she appeared in the hall, not only was the monk Guangren stunned, but several guests in the corner of the hall couldn't help but take a few glances, and even the little child showed an amazed expression.
The woman's gaze was extremely sharp as she looked at each person one by one, her expression growing colder and colder.
So those she saw either lowered their heads or looked away. Although no one made a sound, Guangren felt a sudden tension in the hall.
The woman's gaze finally settled on the little boy. After looking at him for a moment, she slowly walked to another corner of the Buddhist hall, gently untied the green bamboo basket from her back, lifted the oilcloth on it, and took out a tiny baby from inside.
The baby was only a few months old, with fair and delicate skin, like a beautifully carved jade, and a pair of bright eyes like two black glass beads.
The smile on the woman's face was fleeting, so faint that it seemed as if she had only slightly curled the corners of her lips.
The atmosphere in the hall immediately relaxed. However, Abbot Guangren's heart sank a little—it seemed that both groups were hiding and on guard against something, and only when they saw that the other group had a child did they temporarily lower their guard.
The woman sat cross-legged on the ground, placed the baby aside, and then ignored it. The baby's pale pink swaddling clothes were already soaked by the rain, and strands of its black hair clung to its forehead. It neither cried nor fussed, but just gnawed on its little fists, occasionally grinning for no apparent reason and making "ee-ee-ya-ya" sounds.
Although the little boy had been sulking, he was still just a child. His gaze gradually became drawn to the baby, and he couldn't resist going over to touch the baby's fair and delicate face. However, the young master stretched out his arm and pulled him back.
Just then, the coachman who had gone out earlier "flew" back in. He was about to sit back down when he saw a beautiful woman carrying a baby in the hall, and he was immediately stunned—he had looked at the carriage at the door and hadn't been gone long, so he didn't even know when the woman had come in!
The rain poured down harder and harder, and both groups remained silent. Monk Guangren made a few casual remarks, but no one paid him any attention, and he himself felt bored. Just as he closed his eyes to rest, he suddenly heard a whooshing sound from the east. Before the first whoosh had even faded, a second one rang out from the west, followed by a third and a fourth. In an instant, the whooshing sounds rose and fell, as if the small Puyuan Temple were surrounded.
The whistling sounds varied in tone: some were deep and melancholic, some were clear and melodious, some were sharp and piercing, and some were high-pitched. They were clearly from different people, yet all displayed remarkable skill.
Guangren was taken aback. He could tell that the whistling sound meant that a large number of martial arts practitioners had gathered. Could something have happened?
He looked at the two groups of guests in the temple. The first group sat upright in meditation, not even lifting their eyelids. The rich young master pulled the boy to his side. The boy struggled a little but couldn't break free, so he gave in. The beautiful woman just showed a slight cold smile on her face, slowly picked up the baby, patted it gently twice, then wrapped it tightly in an oilcloth and carried it on her back.
She had just finished tidying up when she heard a loud "boom" as the gate of Puyuan Temple was blown to the ground. The dust that had just risen was quickly suppressed by the heavy rain.
The monk Guangren secretly groaned. With the collapse of the mountain gate, the fifty taels of silver he had just received were gone in an instant! But although he was heartbroken, he dared not complain. He recognized that the thing that had blown up the mountain gate was the Thunderbolt Spear, a hidden weapon from the Thunderbolt Hall of Jiangnan. It was indeed very powerful!
Dozens of figures appeared in the heavy rain, men and women. Although they were all wearing straw hats and oilcloth raincoats, their clothes were already half wet, indicating that they had been soaked in the rain for a long time.
A burly man adjusted his straw hat and shouted, "Witch! Come out here!"
The woman leaned against the door frame, sizing up the burly man before turning her gaze to the three people beside him. A faint smile suddenly bloomed on her face as she leisurely said, "The Three Wonders of Jinzhong, you've come to join the fun too!"
A tall, thin man in gray stepped forward from the crowd: "Young lady, we were deeply grateful for your righteous act of saving our widowed sister-in-law from the clutches of Voldemort. The Three Masters of Jinzhong are not ungrateful; this kindness will forever be etched in our hearts. However, kindness can be great or small, and righteousness can be great or small. Your kindness to us three brothers is great, but compared to the countless ordinary people, it is small. Back then, after the Yellow River floods in Jinzhong, a plague raged, and nine out of ten households were wiped out. It was that lady who disregarded her own safety and went to the disaster area to provide medical treatment and medicine, saving millions of people with her own strength. She is truly a living bodhisattva to the people of Jinzhong! That lady is compassionate and kind. If you... if you hand over that child, we can plead on your behalf, and she certainly won't make things difficult for you..."
The woman's delicate eyebrows slowly rose: "She is benevolent and righteous, and I am only concerned with petty favors; she is compassionate and kind, and I am vicious and ruthless; she is a living bodhisattva in the martial arts world, and I am a living scoundrel in the martial arts world. Is that so?"
The man in gray lowered his head and said, "I wouldn't dare!"
A thin woman in black beside her sneered, "Who do you think you are? Don't you know yourself? Do you need others to tell you?"
The woman looked her over carefully: "So you're that Jade Hand Rakshasa Sang San Niang?"
The woman in black said arrogantly, "Your brother and husband are already dead at my hands. I don't want to kill you as well. Now you may leave!"
The woman in black let out a long laugh, and said in a mournful tone, "My brother and husband died to kill the wicked and eliminate the demons. Even in death, they were virtuous and chivalrous men who left a lasting legacy in the martial world. Sang San Niang has come here today, and it is either you or me who lives. I have no intention of leaving empty-handed."
Another man clapped and cheered: "Well said! Sister Sang San truly deserves to be called the foremost heroine in the Jingchu region!"
The woman nodded and said, "Then I have no choice but to grant your wish!"
Sang San Niang sneered: "Let's see what tricks you, you vixen, have up your sleeve in this downpour!"
The woman looked up at the sky, but shook her head and sighed, "Yes, the rain is so heavy!"
Suddenly, a figure appeared like a ghost, gently striking out with a palm. Then, with a turn of the body, it floated back into the hall, turning back with a smile. In an instant, amidst the torrential rain, it was like a strange flower blooming, and even the heavily clouded sky became ethereal.
Just as everyone was stunned, they heard a "bang" and a big man fell into the mud pit, splashing rainwater everywhere. The splashes of water had a bright pinkish hue.
Someone exclaimed, "It's Hero Zhao!" and reached out to help him up.
Another person shouted, "Don't touch him! He's poisoned!"
Another person shouted sternly, "Everyone, attack together and take her down!"
Someone roared, "Alright! Let's go!"
The gray-clad man, one of the three masters of Jinzhong, sighed and said, "Miss, I'm sorry!" He then pulled out a pair of tiger-head hooks from his back and charged forward first.
The woman sneered, "So eager to die, I'll grant your wish!"
With a slender hand, she struck at the gray-clad man's ribs. Sang San Niang attacked from the side, her twin willow-leaf swords dancing like flowers, one sword protecting the green-clad man while the other slashed straight at the woman's waist and back.
The woman took a step back, her skirt billowing as she silently kicked at Sang San Niang's lower body. The man in gray immediately countered with a hook, using a diversionary tactic to force her back.
These men were well aware of the woman's ruthlessness and had practiced their combined attack techniques many times before coming, so their attacks were quite measured.
Frustrated by her failure to land a blow in both moves, the woman suddenly smiled and said, "You two seem to be quite compatible, but don't forget to thank your benefactor, who cleared away the obstacle between you and your husbands!"
Na Sang San Niang was extremely virtuous and resolute. After her husband was murdered, she had long harbored thoughts of suicide, so she scattered her family fortune to join the hunt. Now, however, she was slandered by that woman, and she couldn't help but tremble with anger: "You, a woman, have such a filthy heart..." She slashed at him with each stroke, determined to fight to the death.
Someone shouted, "Let's all work together and show no mercy to this witch..." Before he could finish speaking, he screamed and fell to the ground.
Those who were besieging her were filled with hatred and attacked even faster, advancing and retreating as they circled around the woman like a revolving lantern.