Chapter Eleven: The Eccentric

When he entered, with a volatile human bomb by his side and the constant reminder from the soldier spirit that four people were secretly tailing them, Chen Hongxu truly paid little attention to the scenery of Tangzhaoti Temple.

Stepping briskly along the cobbled grid path, Chen Hongxu moved several times faster on his way out than he had on his way in. After all, this was a flight, not a sightseeing tour. He ran toward the wall he had slipped through earlier and, with a light leap and a one-handed push, vaulted over with effortless grace.

Exiting Tangzhaoti Temple should have meant safety. Yet after just two steps, Chen Hongxu darted back and pressed himself against the wall, peeking out with half his head to observe the situation in the plaza before the temple.

What had been an empty expanse was now crowded with a hundred or so people, most of them monks from Tangzhaoti Temple. Some wore the same attire as those who had gone to reinforce the Watokoya headquarters, but more were clad in loose, white monastic robes, their hands bound with white cloth and gripping short wooden sticks—much shorter than the staves used by the martial monks. Their faces brimmed with fanaticism as they stared across at a dozen or so adversaries.

Chen Hongxu silently sized up the scene, clicking his tongue inwardly. According to Su Xiaoxiao’s intelligence, the temple’s martial monks totaled only a hundred and thirty-two, and with over a hundred departed, how were there still so many left capable of fighting? Clearly, the temple had hidden reserves of strength. If that was the case, the situation at Haruhi Shrine was probably no better. After all, an ancient establishment surely kept some cards up its sleeve, didn’t it? Such widespread attacks would not only stretch the major factions thin, but also fuel their suspicions.

He had no intention of concerning himself with the fate of those facing off against the monks. But after assessing the surroundings, he realized, to his dismay, that there was no other escape route—this was it.

Walking out openly was out of the question; anyone would know he’d been inside the temple. That would draw every monk’s firepower his way, and who knew what intentions those dozen outsiders harbored.

He wasn’t a tank; he didn’t believe he could withstand the attacks of over a hundred skilled fighters. Such self-destructive heroics were not in his nature. His eyes flashed as he slipped back into the temple grounds.

Chen Hongxu’s plan was simple—create chaos. Without chaos, how could he slip away?

About ten minutes later, thick smoke began to rise from several of the shrine halls where tourists usually offered incense. The monks waiting outside, faces dark with anxiety, could delay no longer; after all, most of Tangzhaoti Temple’s structures were made of wood to preserve their ancient style. The smoke wasn’t yet dense from the entrance, but if the fire gained momentum, not even the fire brigade would be of use.

The monks quickly split into two groups: about forty remained to confront the outsiders, while sixty or so hurried into the temple to fight the fires.

Chen Hongxu’s tactic proved highly effective—a perfect two birds with one stone. The dozen or so at the entrance were certainly not there for sightseeing or to pose for photos; their objective also lay within the temple. With the monks’ numbers suddenly halved, the outsiders, no fools themselves, saw their opportunity. Without waiting for orders, they unleashed hidden weapons and launched coordinated attacks, each fulfilling their role in the push to break into the temple.

The scene descended into chaos. Having set his fires, Chen Hongxu, no fool, didn’t linger to enjoy the spectacle—he had no grudge against Tangzhaoti Temple and saw no reason to burn it to the ground. He concealed himself in a secluded spot not too far from the main gate, ready to bolt once the chaos reached its peak.

As expected, the temple grounds soon erupted with shouting and the clash of weapons. Chen Hongxu seized the moment, crouched low, and crept toward a quieter area.

The outer halls, as anticipated, were in complete turmoil. He had no intention of scaling the walls again. As the outsiders pressed further in, he ran in the opposite direction—amidst the confusion, no one noticed the solitary figure moving against the current.

“Once I get past this building, I should be out,” Chen Hongxu breathed a sigh of relief as he approached what looked like the reception hall.

But just then, sounds of combat drifted from within—a discordant mix of weapon clashes and low shouts. It seemed as if a host of fighters had suddenly materialized inside.

Chen Hongxu halted, exhausted, and summoned the soldier spirit to scout ahead. If there weren’t many inside, he’d charge in and finish it quickly.

A moment later, the soldier spirit’s voice returned, half amused, half exasperated: “It’s fine, go in.”

Puzzled by the lack of detail, Chen Hongxu wondered if the place was filled with pushovers. Trusting the soldier spirit, he smiled, lifted his head, and strode inside, relieved to finally be leaving this accursed place.

But when he entered, he was stunned. The bloody melee he’d imagined—a mass of men hacking each other to pieces—was nowhere to be seen.

At the center of the hall stood a young man with dyed blonde hair, wielding two long blades and performing a solo routine, chopping and clattering away. The cacophony of sounds he produced, had Chen Hongxu not seen for himself, might have convinced him a whole crowd was fighting inside.

The blonde youth seemed utterly absorbed in his performance. Chen Hongxu had no wish to disturb him, but to exit the hall, he had to pass by this oddball. Frowning, he cleared his throat to announce his presence—Hey, cut it out, someone’s here.

Startled like a rat, the blonde youth flung his swords to the ground and bolted without a backward glance.

Chen Hongxu couldn’t help but laugh. Was this clown really on the Blacklist? He didn’t dwell on it, quickly following the young man to the temple gate just a few paces ahead.

What surprised Chen Hongxu was the youth’s speed. Watching his bounding figure, it was hard to imagine him indulging in such antics moments before.

The exit was in sight. Chen Hongxu finally relaxed—no one could stop him now. Pouring all his energy into a full sprint, he charged forward, the very picture of someone ready to cut down gods or buddhas if they stood in his way.

But then he stopped abruptly.

The blonde youth ahead of him suddenly skidded to a halt, spun around, dropped to his knees, and kowtowed repeatedly, pleading, “Big brother, I was wrong! I shouldn’t have hidden outside and tried to mislead you. You’ve chased me so far—you must be thirsty. How about I make amends and treat you to some tea?”

Chen Hongxu was tempted to just kick this apparently harmless obstacle out of the way, but after all he’d been through, he was no longer the timid youth with only a high schooler’s experience. Who knew if this was all a ploy to lull him into lowering his guard for a sneak attack?

Sensing Chen Hongxu’s vigilance, the blonde youth realized things weren’t going as planned. He exhaled, patted his chest, and regarded Chen Hongxu seriously, just about to speak when—

Boom, boom, boom—

A thunderous rumble echoed out. Chen Hongxu turned to see a pavilion built from deep-sea ironwood slowly collapsing, vanishing from sight.

With no time to waste, Chen Hongxu shot the youth a glare, vaulted five meters in a single leap over his head, and without a backward glance, darted out of Tangzhaoti Temple and disappeared into the alley across the street.