Li Guo and Liu Zongmin leapt out of the fighting circle.
One moved to the left, the other to the right, shielding Chuang Wang as they prepared to run.
As for the other members of the Old Eight Team, well… those unlucky fellows were obviously about to be abandoned again.
While the remaining bandits were still tangled up with He Ping, the three of them had to escape quickly.
If they delayed even a little, they might not be able to run at all.
This was simply the way of jianghu bosses.
When danger appeared, the leader ran first.
That was the true secret of survival.
But then something felt wrong.
The moment the three men turned around, they froze.
Behind them stood more than a dozen villagers and over twenty monks.
Old men.
Young boys.
Women.
Children.
The villagers held hoes, sickles, pot lids, dung forks, and every imaginable farming tool.
The monks carried whistle staffs, monastic sabers, and heavy Buddhist staves.
Chuang Wang's heart sank.
This was bad.
He forced a fierce expression and shouted.
"Get out of the way!"
The next instant a woodcutter's chopper flew straight at his face.
Chuang Wang twisted aside to dodge it.
Before he could regain balance, a dung fork thrust toward his chest.
He barely avoided that attack when two hoes smashed down at him from different directions.
In the middle of it all a monk's staff swung toward his ribs.
If Chuang Wang possessed martial skill equal to the war monk, perhaps he could have dodged and countered.
Unfortunately he did not.
Faced with this chaotic mob attack, he had absolutely no solution.
Within seconds he was struck several times.
Beside him Li Guo and Liu Zongmin were not doing any better.
In the blink of an eye they were drowned under a storm of random weapons.
Inside the crowd Chuang Wang's furious voice could be heard.
"Get away from me, you useless trash!"
"I am Chuang Wang!"
"Who dares touch me?"
"Ow!"
"Stop hitting!"
"I won't rob you anymore!"
"I was wrong, alright?"
"Ahhh!"
His voice gradually grew weaker.
Then it disappeared entirely.
---
Meanwhile, on the other side of the battlefield, He Ping swung his staff in a wide arc.
Crack.
The last bandit's skull exploded.
The fight was finally over.
He Ping breathed heavily and collapsed onto the ground.
He was exhausted.
Fighting more than a dozen bandits in a row was truly tiring.
No one dared approach him.
He calmly took out a packet of healing medicine that Dao Xuan Tianzun had bestowed and applied it to his wound.
Before long the medicine began to work.
The pain faded.
A cool sensation spread across the wound.
He Ping closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, the red color had vanished.
His pupils were black once more.
The war monk had returned.
---
"Eh?"
"What happened here?"
Zhan Seng suddenly looked shocked.
"Why are there dead bodies everywhere? Who killed all these people?"
He jumped to his feet and looked around.
The villagers and monks nearby were staring at him with fearful expressions.
Zhan Seng pressed his palms together.
"Ami-tuo-fo. Goodness. Goodness."
"I must have been knocked unconscious by the bandits earlier. Thank you all for saving me."
Everyone stared silently.
Zhan Seng continued speaking sincerely.
"I am deeply grateful. But Heaven cherishes life, and the Buddha teaches compassion."
"To save this one life of mine, you ended up killing all the bandits. That is not quite appropriate."
"It would have been better to capture them alive and give them a chance for reform."
Everyone rolled their eyes.
Zhan Seng remained perfectly serious.
"Ami-tuo-fo."
At that moment he noticed the villager who had been injured earlier while protecting his rice jar.
The monk hurried over and crouched beside him, taking out healing medicine to treat the wound.
The poor villager was terrified out of his mind but obediently accepted the treatment.
The surrounding crowd watched the scene in silence.
No one knew what to say.
It was impossible to connect this compassionate monk saving lives with the furious killing god who had just slaughtered bandits moments ago.
---
After treating the wounded villagers, Zhan Seng also recited prayers for the dead.
Not only for the villagers.
Even for the bandits.
Then he suddenly remembered something and turned to ask the villagers.
"Who were these bandits?"
"Did they say anything?"
One villager answered quietly.
"He called himself Chuang Wang."
"What?"
Zhan Seng instantly jumped over.
"Chuang Wang?"
"Yes. That one."
Someone pointed to a mangled corpse on the ground.
Chuang Wang had been beaten so badly that he barely resembled a human anymore.
Zhan Seng walked over and let out a long sigh.
He lifted the corpse onto his shoulder.
"Everyone, I must leave for a while."
"I will take this body to Jinan."
"It is a pity I cannot stay longer to discuss Buddhist teachings with the masters of Puzhao Temple."
The monks of Puzhao Temple trembled inwardly.
Good.
Leave quickly.
Who knew when this monster might suddenly turn back into He Ping again?
But of course they could not say that aloud.
The abbot stepped forward with a reluctant smile.
"Senior Brother Zhan Seng, please travel safely."
Zhan Seng placed Chuang Wang's corpse over his left shoulder.
In his right hand he held the whistle staff like a walking stick.
Then he strode northward.
---
Only after he disappeared did the monks and villagers gather again.
Someone whispered nervously.
"If we really killed Chuang Wang… that must be a huge matter, right?"
"Yes. Of course it is."
"There are still many bandits across the land. What if some of Chuang Wang's men are still alive?"
"What if they find out we killed him?"
"Will they come here for revenge?"
That sentence made everyone shiver.
The abbot of Puzhao Temple raised his hand.
"Listen carefully."
"The fact that Chuang Wang died here must never be spoken of."
"Everyone dig a pit and bury these bodies immediately."
Then he summoned a traveling monk.
"You head west."
"The farther the better."
"Go to Henan or Hubei, anywhere west."
"Spread a story that Chuang Wang was killed by villagers somewhere over there while fleeing."
"Just make up a location."
"Do not mention Mount Tai, Puzhao Temple, or Puzhao Village."
The traveling monk bowed.
"Understood."
"Go quickly."
The monk immediately set out westward.
He walked for a very long time.
Eventually a small mountain appeared before him.
Its name was Jiugong Mountain.
He figured he was already far away from Mount Tai.
So he began telling people everywhere he went.
"Have you heard about Chuang Wang?"
"Yesterday I passed a village nearby and heard the villagers killed him."
"Did you know? Chuang Wang died in a mountain village around here."
The monk repeated the story again and again.
To anyone who would listen.
"A monk never lies."
"Chuang Wang was killed by villagers near Jiugong Mountain."
"Really. Just look at my honest eyes."
"At first the people around Jiugong Mountain did not believe him."
But a few days later an official announcement arrived.
The government confirmed that Chuang Wang had been killed by villagers somewhere.
His body had already been delivered to Sun Chuanting, the Minister of War stationed in Jinan.
Soon it would be sent to the capital.
Now everyone believed it.
And so a legend was born.
The legend that Chuang Wang was killed near Jiugong Mountain.
But no one knew which village had actually done it.
---
Many years later, development from Gao Family Village eventually reached Jiugong Mountain.
To stimulate the local economy, Zhu Cunji, who was extremely skilled at tourism operations, designated Niujiling Ridge on Jiugong Mountain as the place where Chuang Wang had been executed.
A scenic tourist site was built there.
Ticket sales earned enormous profits.
Local villagers opened farmhouse restaurants.
They sold ice jelly desserts, liangxia shrimp jelly, mashed potatoes, and roasted sweet potato skins.
And just like that, life improved dramatically.