Top Grade Immortal Emperor in the Flower City-Chapter 637 - 647: Everyone is a Sweeping Monk (15th Update!)

It wasn't long before Ye Ling and the three others had inadvertently far surpassed the other travelers by a great distance, ascending to the mountain peak and arriving at the gates of Vermilion Temple.

At that moment, two rows of young monks in robes, each holding a Senluo canopy parasol, softly chanted Buddhist incantations and slowly walked to either side.

Once the young monks took their positions, first came two others holding a wooden fish and a metal bowl, gently striking the Buddhist texts and murmuring with eyes closed.

Then, one by one, monks dressed in red kasayas emerged, holding Buddha Beads solemnly in their hands, their faces stern and respectful. These were high monks who had traveled from all around, having just completed a ritual ceremony.

"Well, I must say, they seem to indeed have some skill, not as corrupt as the internet claims," Mo Xing said with a smirk, watching the assembly of young and senior monks chant with lowered heads. Each incantation seemed to calm the heart and slightly wash away some restlessness.

Ye Ling nodded seriously, "There are many internet trolls and hotheads online; did you not consider that a monastery which leads Han Chinese Buddhism must have some capability?"

The grandeur of Shaolin Temple would be truly disgraced if it were as the internet trolls claimed, incompetent and unworthy of its thousand-year reverence.

When each of the hosting abbots had arrived at the temple gates, Monk Da also emerged, clasping his hands together and bowing to the crowd, who promptly returned the gesture with bows of their own.

"Abbot, it's truly regrettable not to see Monk Shiwujian on this visit. I hope to disturb you with another visit next time," one said.

"Monk Shiran, should you have time, please visit our temple for a discussion on Buddhism. I will personally greet you at the gates with my disciples," another offered.

The hosting abbots continuously spoke, and Monk Shiran hastily turned back, not daring the slightest disrespect. These individuals were of high standing and of the same generation as his mentor, not to be delayed.

After the hosts had left, only the site of the ritual ceremony remained within Shaolin Temple, atop a nearly fifteen-meter-high wooden platform where a perpetual light was lit.

Even under the bright daylight, the flame flickered with a faint glow, swaying in the wind without showing any sign of extinguishing.

After bidding farewell to the hosts and others, Monk Shiran, on his way back into the temple, suddenly glanced at Ye Ling, smiled slightly, and nodded in acknowledgment.

Ye Ling too clasped his hands in return, smiling slightly, "This Monk Shiran is quite interesting. The outside world claims he's consumed by material greed, but in reality, I see him as a master of psychology who deeply understands the human heart and Buddhist doctrine."

The four of them didn't say much more and started to wander through Shaolin Temple. As they encountered each hall, they would enter, only abstaining from offering prayers to the Buddha.

There was no need to discuss Ye Ling's status; even the Buddha himself could not endure his bow. Mo Siqing, as his woman, held an equivalent status.

And as for Mo Xing, there was no need to explain, a reincarnation of Furo Wang. In the vast Immortal Realm, few enjoyed such abundant blessing and prosperity. Should he kneel, the Buddha statues might shatter, potentially leading to great disaster.

The Dragon King Hall, the stone where Bodhidharma faced the wall, the pagoda forest, the ancient martial arts training ground, and other major halls—all were visited, but they especially frequented the Sutra Depository.

Within the vermillion Sutra Depository that claimed to hold eight million scrolls of texts, it was clear that this number was likely exaggerated; probably even during the peak of the Tang Dynasty, it wouldn't surpass this figure.

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Ye Ling and the others roamed the Sutra Depository, seeking the stuff of martial arts legends like the Yi Jin Jing and the great elixir, sadly, to no avail as they found no trace of them in the end.

Mo Xing, upon entering the Sutra Depository, saw an old monk with white hair and beard diligently sweeping the floor with a broom. He ran straight up to him, grabbed the monk's hand, and let out a chuckle.

The old monk was startled and thought a lunatic had popped out of nowhere. He quickly took a defensive stance with his broom, "Esteemed Patron, may I help you with something?"

"Hehe, the sweeping monk, right? I've finally found you. I've long heard of your great fame, the mysterious expert of the Shaolin Temple with the strongest martial arts!"

Ye Ling, Li Ke, and Mo Siqing were stunned, thinking, damn, this guy must've watched too much 'Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils.' Has he gone mad?

The broom-wielding old monk, after hearing this, became even more cautious, "Esteemed Patron, this is the Shaolin Temple. Please conduct yourself with respect. I am just a monk who sweeps the floor and knows no martial arts. I ask you to do the same."

As he spoke, the old monk quickly attempted to leave, but Mo Xing, with a smirk and a dark expression, said, "Ah, is this the modesty of a reclusive expert? Don't worry, I won't bother you. I just wanted to admire the demeanor of a master."

"Hey, hey, don't go, venerable monk. Don't leave. I just want you to enlighten me for a moment. I feel like a horse that's lost its way in the mundane world, unable to find the way out of this confusion without your guidance."

The old monk's expression changed instantly upon hearing this, "My goodness, a madman indeed."

After saying that, the monk gathered up his robes and ran off, his agile steps leaving Mo Xing gaping in amazement, "As expected of a reclusive expert, even running is so nimble. It's just like Xtep, the sensation of flying."

Ye Ling, with a darkened face, walked up to Mo Xing's side, "Are you trying to embarrass us or not? Let's hurry and go. It's really shameful to be seen with you."

The four of them then leisurely strolled around the Shaolin Temple, when suddenly, they saw many tourists running towards the direction of the Great Buddha Hall.

"Hey guys, what's happening at the Great Buddha Hall? Could it be some kind of miracle? Or has the Buddha manifested himself?"

Mo Xing promptly stopped a young man to ask. The young man glanced at Mo Xing and snorted, "Manifested? Manifest your head. A foreigner has started a fight with the people of the Shaolin Temple. It's said that he has injured all eighteen bronze monks."

After speaking, the young man broke free from Mo Xing's grasp and ran towards the Great Buddha Hall. Mo Xing's eyes sparkled, "What? A fight? Damn, I have to see this."

Ye Ling and the other two were also quite interested. It sounded quite amusing, a fight breaking out in the Great Buddha Hall. You have to understand, that's the most solemn and sacred place in the entire monastery.

And this is the Shaolin Temple—haven't you heard? All martial arts under heaven come from Shaolin. To dare to take action here is to have a death wish. There's always the possibility of getting beaten into a disaster at any given moment.

"Damn, so many people. Excuse me, excuse me, let me have a look."

Mo Xing immediately squeezed into the crowd, with Ye Ling and the other two following like slippery eels, overcoming the obstacles and successfully squeezing inside.

In front of the Great Buddha Hall, incense burned, with smoke spiraling up. In front of the incense burner, eighteen monks lay on the ground, expressions twisted in pain.

The eighteen bronze monks of the Shaolin Temple weren't as mystical as the legends said, of course. These eighteen weren't really the legendary bronze monks. Ye Ling knew very well that the real bronze monks were on the back mountain.

In front of these eighteen "bronze monks," a warrior from the Island Nation, wielding a Dongyang Knife and dressed in samurai garb, stood on the ground, his face full of disdain.

"Shaolin Kung Fu is trash! Our Island Nation's Ryu-to School is the strongest!"