Chapter 111: The Elder of the Discipline Hall

Since he had arrived at Mount Wutai, Zhou Yi decided to make the best of the situation. He wanted to settle the matter regarding Zhang Zuozheng once and for all; otherwise, having a monk chasing him across the country like a shadow was hardly a pleasant prospect.

If Zhou Yi had nothing better to do, he might have humored the monk to pass the time. However, he was on a quest to find the eight legendary weapons, a journey fraught with obvious dangers. While it would be fortunate if this monk offered help in a moment of crisis, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t harbor malicious intent, and it was impossible to say whether he might kick someone when they were down.

Following Xu Hua to the Mount Wutai Discipline Hall—the place where monks were punished for breaking the monastic rules—Zhou Yi looked around. The staves used for corporal punishment stood against the wall, still stained with mottled traces of blood.

Zhou Yi couldn't help but twitch the corner of his mouth. These monks were all martial artists; if one were to be subjected to such a beating, torn skin and mangled flesh would be the best-case scenario—death was entirely possible.

Before Zhou Yi could dwell on it, the monks of Mount Wutai gathered in the hall, and Zen Master Huiming walked slowly to the seat of honor.

Zen Master Huiming did not speak, instead looking Zhou Yi up and down with scrutiny. Zhou Yi met the gaze of the benevolent-looking Zen Master with a smile, showing no signs of weakness.

In truth, a trial at Mount Wutai should not have been held in the Discipline Hall, as it was reserved for punishing internal transgressions. However, since the mountain had no dedicated interrogation facility, the monks had simply decided to make do with the Discipline Hall.

"Amitabha. I ask you: why did you seek to harm Zhang Zuozheng, a lay disciple of our Mount Wutai?"

The speaker was Elder Huicong, the director of the Discipline Hall and junior brother to Zen Master Huiming. Huicong’s tone was calm, his voice low but carrying a hint of authority—the byproduct, no doubt, of long years spent enforcing the laws of Mount Wutai.

"How do you know that I was the one who killed your disciple?" Zhou Yi wasn't trying to quibble; he was genuinely puzzled. No matter where he hid, Xu Hua always managed to find him, a fact that had always baffled him.

"This is a secret of our sect, and I cannot disclose it to you. Let us return to the matter of why you murdered my nephew," Huicong replied, brushing aside the question and sticking to the point.

Zhou Yi’s lips curled into a cold sneer. "Because that Zhang Zuozheng deserved to die, so I killed him. Do what you will—kill me or carve me up—but if you continue to prattle on, I won't play along anymore."

"Insolence! Do you think Mount Wutai is a place where you can come and go as you please? Twenty lashes first, then we shall interrogate you," Huicong commanded, his face flushing with anger at Zhou Yi’s insolence.

Two young novices stepped forward with staves, ready to strike. Zhou Yi, refusing to stand still and take a beating, immediately protested, "You bald donkeys are unreasonable! You haven't even asked for the reason, so why are you striking me?"

Huicong, hearing Zhou Yi’s demand for reason, lowered his eyes and chanted a mantra. "Amitabha. Since you wish to speak of reason, then I shall speak of reason with you! Those who kill shall be killed by others. The prohibition against killing is the first precept of our Buddha’s path; I dare not harbor thoughts of murder. But I ask you: you are already a man facing a death sentence—why should you not be disciplined by the rod?"

Seeing that they had paused, Zhou Yi smiled slightly. "You say that those who kill shall be killed, but I ask you: Zhang Zuozheng was a man who deserved to die. What was wrong with me killing him? Your sect has its monastic rules, but I do not. I only kill those who deserve to die!"

"Zhang Zuozheng was a disciple of our sect. If he committed a wrong, he should have been punished by us. You killed a disciple of Mount Wutai, so I must bring you back to get to the bottom of it and determine the severity of your punishment."

Hearing this, Zhou Yi burst into laughter. "Ha! In that case, I am a disciple of the Taoist path. If I commit a fault, it should be the Taoists who determine my punishment. What difference is there between you beating me now and me killing Zhang Zuozheng?"

The master who had taught Zhou Yi his techniques was Lu Ya the Taoist, who belonged to the Taoist tradition but was not a disciple of the Three Pure Ones.

Huicong was left speechless, for Zhou Yi’s words were logical and well-founded.

Huiming, who had been standing by, chanted a mantra and spoke: "You claimed just now that the disciple I taught, Zuozheng, deserved to die. Do you have proof?"

Zhou Yi felt a surge of satisfaction; this was exactly what he had been waiting for. "I’ve had a hard journey, my throat is parched, and my voice is too hoarse to speak in detail."

"Bring him water," Xu Hua said. He knew Zhou Yi’s penchant for playing the rogue; if his demands weren't met, he wouldn't utter a single word. Thus, at Xu Hua’s command, a novice brought water.

After a moment, a pot of water was brought. Zhou Yi poured a bowl and handed it to Princess Fu. "Princess, the journey has been exhausting. These monks didn't even offer us hospitality upon arrival, dragging us straight to this execution ground. Drink some water first to wet your throat."

Princess Fu did not know Zhou Yi well, but the faint, roguish charm he displayed now made her grow fond of him. She took the water, drank it in one gulp, wiped the droplets from her lips, and returned the bowl.

Zhou Yi poured another bowl for Xiaocui. Just as he was about to pour water for Xu Hua, Huicong frowned and shouted sharply, "Enough! Do you think this is a place for your loutish behavior?"

Zhou Yi turned to look at Huicong, scanning him up and down again. "And who the hell are you to talk to me like that?"

Hearing Zhou Yi’s vulgarity, Huicong pointed at him and snapped, "To think a rogue like you claims to be a Taoist disciple! Truly, a crooked beam leads to a crooked structure."

Huicong’s words were an insult to Lu Ya the Taoist. Zhou Yi was instantly enraged. "Go to hell, you damned bald donkey!" With that, he splashed the entire bowl of water directly into Huicong’s face.

Zhou Yi had acted in anger, channeling his internal energy, and not a single drop was wasted.

Huicong, caught off guard by the sudden attack, froze for a moment before pointing a trembling finger at him. "Take this rogue down! Bring the staves!"

Zhou Yi narrowed his eyes and glanced at the two novices approaching with staves. Under his gaze, they retreated two steps involuntarily.

Seeing the novices afraid to advance, Huicong strode forward, snatched a staff from one of them, and brought it down toward Zhou Yi.

Zhou Yi did not dodge; he reached out and grabbed the staff. The impact made his arm numb and his palm sting. With a sharp twist, he wrenched the staff away.

He examined the staff, then raised it high and shouted, "I’ll beat you first, you black-and-white-blind bald donkey!"

Xu Hua could not allow Zhou Yi to run wild. He quickly circled behind him and wrapped his arms around him. "Master Zhou, you must not! This is the disciplinary elder of our Mount Wutai!"

Seeing Xu Hua holding Zhou Yi, Huicong remained relentless. He grabbed another staff and brought it down toward Zhou Yi.

With his arms pinned by Xu Hua, Zhou Yi couldn't defend himself. In his desperation, he dodged to the side, and the staff landed squarely on Xu Hua’s back.

Hit by the heavy blow, Xu Hua was forced to release Zhou Yi, coughing up a mouthful of blood.

"Do not... strike..."