Chuang Wang, Li Guo, Liu Zongmin, and the last dozen or so hardened bandits charged toward the small village ahead.
The village was called Puzhao Village.
It stood not far from Mount Tai, with several patches of farmland surrounding it. Crops struggled weakly in the fields.
Shandong had not suffered the worst droughts of the era, but the Little Ice Age still cast its shadow. The harvests were poor and life for the villagers was harsh.
An old farmer was digging an irrigation trench beside the field, sweating under the pale sun.
At that moment the Old Eight Companies burst out of the trees.
The bandit at the front raised his blade.
A flash of steel.
A wet sound.
Blood sprayed high into the air as the old farmer collapsed instantly.
Nearby farm women screamed in terror and ran toward the village.
The bandits burst into laughter.
"Now this feels right!"
"Ever since Li Yan joined us we haven't had this kind of fun."
"Today I'm going to slaughter to my heart's content!"
With savage excitement the bandits rushed straight toward Puzhao Village.
---
Soon a sharp hollow sound echoed through the village.
Dong! Dong! Dong!
Hollow bamboo clappers.
The shrill alarm rang across the fields and climbed halfway up the mountain, loud enough for the monks of Puzhao Temple to hear clearly.
Puzhao Temple was an ancient monastery built during the Tang and Song dynasties. War had destroyed it many times, leaving only ruins behind.
During the third year of the Xuande era of the Ming Dynasty, in 1428, a Korean monk named Master Mankong climbed Mount Tai and discovered the abandoned temple. He spent more than twenty years restoring the complex, rebuilding the Bamboo Forest Temple and reviving Puzhao Temple. Thousands of disciples once gathered there to study the Dharma.
Now the alarm from the village below echoed into the monastery.
The monks hurried to the cliffside to look down.
Young monks cried out in panic.
"This is bad!"
"The village below is being attacked by bandits!"
"What should we do? Should we go help?"
"But we don't know martial arts!"
The temple quickly descended into chaos.
At that moment a visiting monk stepped out of the guest quarters and spoke loudly.
"I will go down the mountain and persuade those bandits to put down their blades."
The monks looked closely.
This monk was the abbot of Pujie Temple in Shanxi.
His Dharma name was Zhan Seng.
Pujie Temple and Puzhao Temple differed by only one character in their names, so the two monasteries had long maintained friendly relations. The abbots often exchanged letters.
Zhan Seng had come this time for a discussion of Buddhist teachings.
He had not expected to encounter bandits the moment he arrived.
The monks hurried to stop him.
"Master Zhan Seng, you must not go! Those bandits are extremely cruel. Look, they are still killing people!"
Zhan Seng shook his head calmly.
"A monk should hold compassion in his heart. If we see bandits murdering people, we should go stop them. How could we refuse simply because we are afraid?"
The monks protested.
"They will kill you too!"
Zhan Seng pressed his palms together.
"Ami-tuo-fo. Goodness, goodness."
"If I do not enter hell, who will? If this poor monk dies today because of this, then perhaps my merit will finally be complete."
With that he picked up a long wooden staff and ran down the mountain.
---
Meanwhile in the village.
Li Guo slashed a villager with his blade and kicked him to the ground.
The man lay there groaning heavily, too badly wounded to stand again.
Li Guo sneered and walked toward the small thatched house the villager had tried to protect with his life.
Inside the hut stood a young woman holding a baby less than a year old.
She stood beside a rice jar.
Her eyes moved between Li Guo and the wounded man outside the door.
Pain filled her face.
The jar contained only a thin layer of rice at the bottom.
That tiny amount of grain might not even last the family until the next harvest.
Yet the bandits had come to take even that.
Her husband had defended the rice jar with his life.
And now he lay dying outside.
The woman knew the truth.
Her whole family was doomed.
If the bandits did not kill them, they would starve to death.
She turned her head and looked up toward Puzhao Temple halfway up the mountain.
Her voice trembled.
"Buddha… please save me."
Li Guo burst into laughter.
"The Buddha is busy stuffing his face with meat and wine right now. He doesn't have time for your nonsense."
"Move aside."
"Maybe I'll spare your life."
"Otherwise one swing each and I'll send your whole family straight to see your Buddha."
The woman broke down in terrified sobs.
---
At that moment a powerful voice sounded behind him.
"Ami-tuo-fo! Goodness, goodness!"
"Benefactor, please listen to this poor monk."
"The sea of suffering has no shore. Turn back and you will find salvation."
"Lay down your butcher's knife and become a Buddha on the spot."
"Please spare this family."
Li Guo spun around.
Standing behind him was a large, powerfully built monk holding a wooden staff.
The monk looked at him calmly.
Li Guo narrowed his eyes.
"Oh? A monk wants to meddle in my business?"
Zhan Seng replied calmly.
"How can this be called meddling?"
Li Guo studied the man's build.
He could immediately tell the monk was capable of fighting.
He did not dare act carelessly.
He raised his fingers to his lips and blew a sharp whistle.
The shrill sound echoed across the village.
The bandits scattered throughout the settlement immediately dropped what they were doing and ran toward the whistle.
Soon the entire group gathered.
More than a dozen bandits.
Chuang Wang.
Liu Zongmin.
They spread out in a wide fan shape and surrounded Zhan Seng.
Yet the monk remained calm.
"Ami-tuo-fo."
"I beg all of you benefactors to show mercy and spare the villagers of Puzhao Village."
Someone suddenly shouted.
"Kill him!"
One bandit stepped forward and slashed at the monk's face.
Zhan Seng tilted his body aside.
His staff snapped forward and struck the attacker's wrist.
The bandit cried out as his saber flew from his hand and nearly hit one of his companions.
Zhan Seng quickly bowed.
"My apologies. I did not intend to harm you. A monk should act with compassion."
Before he could finish speaking, another bandit rushed forward and swung his blade.
Zhan Seng stepped aside again and thrust his staff toward the man's chest.
The strike would have landed solidly.
But just before contact he withdrew some of the strength from the blow, worried that a full strike might rupture the man's organs and kill him.
Thump.
The staff hit the bandit's chest armor.
It hurt but did not injure him.
The bandit staggered backward three steps before steadying himself.
For a moment he stood there stunned.
Then he realized.
The monk had held back.
Zhan Seng spoke gently.
"If you would only stop now…"
Before he could finish, Li Guo suddenly stepped forward.
His saber slashed down.
Zhan Seng turned to dodge.
Only then did he realize something.
This opponent was far stronger than the previous bandits.
The saber technique contained hidden variations.
This strike was difficult to evade.
Zhan Seng swung his staff in front of him, creating several whirling arcs of wood.
Clang after clang rang out as Li Guo's saber struck the staff repeatedly.
Each impact carried tremendous force.
Then came the moment when Li Guo's old strength had faded but new strength had not yet formed.
Zhan Seng hooked his foot forward.
Li Guo fell flat on the ground with a thud.
The monk spun his staff and brought it crashing down toward Li Guo's head.
But just before the blow landed, the staff suddenly stopped in midair.
Zhan Seng held back again.
He looked down at Li Guo.
"Please leave."