The sky over the rivers and lakes is very clear

Chapter 272

Such a temple would naturally have very poor incense offerings.

The clouds in the sky were extremely thick, and the rain poured down like a torrential downpour. The raindrops splashed up water on the steps, and the ground quickly became a river. The water could not be drained and accumulated into a pool in the small courtyard of Puyuan Temple.

Standing under the eaves, the monk Guangren gazed at the large pool of water and sighed repeatedly. The rain had come with considerable force, and he feared the courtyard wall wouldn't hold up. If it collapsed, repairs would cost at least ten taels of silver, but he couldn't even afford porridge, let alone money to repair the wall…

As he was shaking his head incessantly, his vision suddenly blurred, and a man in blue robes wearing a bamboo hat appeared like a ghost under the eaves. What dazzled him was a silver ingot in the man's hand.

Five...fifty taels

Despite Puyuan Temple's poverty, Abbot Guangren was quite discerning. He immediately recognized the weight of the ingot and couldn't take his eyes off it: "Benefactor, may I ask what this is...?"

"To avoid the rain." The man's accent was a little stiff as he stuffed the gold ingot into his hand.

The monk Guangren, being poor and lacking ambition, immediately and readily replied with a single word: "Okay!"

The man nodded and clapped his hands. Before the monk Guangren could react, a carriage had already driven out from the end of the road, driven by a man dressed in the same blue robe and straw hat.

The monk Guangren stared wide-eyed and saw a handsome young man leaning out from behind the curtain; he looked like a rich young master.

The young master took the umbrella, but instead of using it to shield himself from the rain, he used it to shield the woman behind him.

The woman's clothes were very simple, but her makeup was extremely heavy. Since monks abstain from women, the monk Guangren only glanced at her before turning his head away, his gaze falling on the child beside the woman.

The child was only about six or seven years old, with exquisitely beautiful features, and an unusually melancholy expression between his brows. If he weren't dressed as a boy from the capital, anyone would probably mistake him for a little girl.

The woman looked at the muddy, rain-soaked ground, then turned and scooped the child into her arms. The child struggled fiercely, his face contorted with anger. The woman ignored him, tucking him under her arm, and in a flash, she was under the eaves. Despite the heavy rain, not a single drop of water had gotten on her.

The child glared at her, the resentment on his little face finally turning into fear.

The young master didn't mind, smiled, and walked in with his umbrella. Although the courtyard was flooded, he seemed to float on the water, without even getting his shoes and socks wet. The coachman tied the horse to the hitching post in front of the temple, picked up several long bundles, and with a "whoosh," he darted into the temple.

None of the five people—four adults and one child—spoke.

The monk Guangren originally wanted to say a few polite words, but at this moment he dared not say more. Although he was now a poor monk in a poor temple, he had been a镖局 (bodyguard agency) escort in his youth and had traveled the world for a while. Over the decades, he had traveled many roads and crossed many bridges, so he could naturally tell that these five people looked like a young couple traveling with their child, steward, and coachman. However, their excellent skills showed that they were definitely not ordinary rich kids.

Puyuan Temple was too small, so the guests had to go into the Buddha Hall, but fortunately, no one seemed to mind. The four adults bowed to the Buddha in the hall, while the child, though young, was arrogant and looked at the Buddha with resentment.

The four adults ignored him and quietly sat down on one side of the Buddha Hall. Even when the monk Guangren brought tea, they simply nodded in thanks.

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!"