“Are there any empty seats left?”
The waiter smiled apologetically and said, “Customer, it’s really not a good time, there are no empty tables. Would you like me to ask if you can share a table with other customers?”
“That works.”
At a nearby table, a bald, burly man sitting alone glanced over and his eyes lit up.
“What a fine man!”
He was naturally bold and direct, and enjoyed making friends. Seeing the man at the door, with his heroic face, ape-like arms, and wasp-like waist, carrying a unique aura he had never seen before, he was delighted.
He immediately spoke.
“Sir, would you be willing to sit with me!”
Li Miao glanced over, smiled, instructed the waiter to bring some tea and snacks, and then walked over.
Several months had passed since the matter of the Five Mountains Sword Sect.
After it concluded that day, he took control of the remaining four sects and had Wang Hai take them to Shuntian Prefecture to see Zhu Zai. Wang Hai knew what to say, and Zhu Zai knew what to do, so Li Miao didn't need to worry about the aftermath.
He did not return to Shuntian Prefecture, but rested for a few days in the Qi-Lu Region before setting off alone towards Miaojiang.
After his treatment, the Gu poison in Little Four's body would not pose a problem for the time being. But the longer it dragged on, the more Li Miao naturally wanted to resolve it sooner.
Anyway, Zhu Zai had given him a year to deal with the Five Mountains Sword Sect, and he finished in less than three months, even crippling the Ming Cult in the process, which was more than enough to report back. The remaining time was essentially paid leave. With Wang Hai returning with Lan Lechuan, Yun Zelin, and a string of Ming Cult Protectors' and Banner Masters' heads, Zhu Zai couldn't complain no matter how dissatisfied he was.
It was just that Mei Qinghe had smashed Yun Zelin's head into a mess, so he wondered if Zhu Zai would even recognize him.
Li Miao walked to the table and sat down, greeting the burly man, “Master, my respects.”
The burly man was stunned for a moment, then let out a boisterous laugh.
“Sir, you are truly extraordinary! I'm not wearing a kasaya, nor do I have any ring scars on my head, yet you are the first to recognize that I am a monk!”
“May I ask your name!”
Li Miao cupped his hands, “Li Miao, a wandering martial artist, without sect or school.”
The burly man also put one hand to his chest, “Shaolin, Yongjie, it’s a pleasure to meet you, benefactor.”
Li Miao smiled, “Master, your dharma name is quite interesting.”
“Virtue eternally extended, wondrous body ever firm. Master, your seniority is not small.”
Shaolin’s generational character names were set long ago, a total of seventy characters, passed down from generation to generation. The current abbot of Shaolin is of the ‘Xing’ generation and is almost a hundred years old.
Yongjie is one generation below him, and in terms of seniority, there are few in the martial arts world who can sit as equals with him.
Yongjie laughed heartily, “My Master is of high seniority, I benefit from it; everywhere I go, everyone is either my junior or my nephew. They are all polite, but I can’t find many friends of my own generation!”
“An outstanding wanderer like yourself is exactly who I wish to befriend! Meeting is fate, let us drink this cup to the fullest!”
With that, the monk poured himself a cup of wine and drank it in one gulp.
Li Miao raised an eyebrow, finding it amusing, “It truly is an eye-opener to travel. A classic character from storybooks, the wine-and-meat monk, I’ve actually encountered one today.”
Li Miao had discerned Yongjie's background from his martial arts and already knew he was a Shaolin warrior monk.
Monks are supposed to observe precepts, but sometimes they find ways to bend them in certain aspects.
Warrior monks are a typical example.
Practicing martial arts is a very demanding activity. Like Li Miao, when he first started, he had to eat two to three catties of meat a day. “Poor scholars, rich martial artists” – practicing martial arts is something that those without some family background cannot sustain.
Warrior monks are in a more awkward position; practicing martial arts itself consumes a lot of qi and blood. If they truly adhered to the monastic rules, eating only tofu and vegetables fiercely every day, no amount of eating would replenish what they lost.
Therefore, warrior monks usually play a little bit of a grey area. For example, there's a saying called “five pure meats,” which means that as long as the death of the animal had nothing to do with me, then it’s fine for me to eat it.
There's also the legend of Emperor Taizong ordering the thirteen Shaolin cudgel monks to eat meat, which might also be a story the monks themselves made up to justify breaking this rule.
However, Yongjie was not just secretly having a little something on the side; it was more than that.
Li Miao glanced at the dishes on the table; there was a dish of stir-fried lamb with scallions.
This was quite an eye-opener.
Monks’ abstinence from ‘葷腥’ (hūn xīng) means ‘腥’ (xīng) refers to meat, and ‘葷’ (hūn) refers to five pungent plants: onions, garlic, chives, scallions, and asafoetida, which have strong odors and interfere with spiritual cultivation.
This dish of stir-fried lamb with scallions certainly covered both 'meat' and 'pungent vegetables'.
Not to mention Yongjie's little sip of wine, after which he smacked his lips, clearly a drunkard.
Li Miao was amused and poured himself a cup, drinking it down in one gulp.
“Exhilarating!”
Yongjie laughed heartily.
The two exchanged toasts, one with a bold personality, the other worldly-wise, and both had a good impression of each other, quickly becoming acquainted.
After some conversation, they surprisingly discovered that both their destinations were Miaojiang, making them fellow travelers.
After discussing, the two decided to set off together after eating.
As they spoke, the dishes Li Miao had ordered also arrived.
Without Little Four accompanying him, Li Miao had gradually learned to spend money during this period, though he still couldn't shake off his extravagant habit, ordering many good dishes.
As a monk, Yongjie didn't have much money in his pocket, and he had never ordered so many good things.
Li Miao invited him to eat together, and Yongjie also thanked him with a laugh, joining Li Miao in eating.
The two ate for a while, their stomachs full and satisfied.
Li Miao felt sleepy after eating, and Yongjie had pretty much figured out Li Miao's lazy nature, so he didn't rush him. He just sat there, letting Li Miao lean back in his chair and close his eyes to rest, occasionally picking up a dish, passing the time.
By then, the mealtime was over, and most of the customers had left. The waiter was not in a hurry to make the two leave, so he quietly cleaned the tables on the side.
Just as the restaurant was gradually quieting down, Li Miao suddenly opened his eyes.
He raised his hand into a claw shape and grabbed at the empty air.
“Ah—”
A waiter was grabbed from the doorway by him, suspended in mid-air, flailing his limbs wildly, his face pale.
Li Miao put him down and patted his shoulder, “Alright, go hide in the back. Get some water, and when things quiet down later, come out and clean up the floor.”
“Yes… Customer, thank you, thank you!”
The waiter hurriedly thanked Li Miao several times, then stumbled into the back kitchen.
“Who is there, a Master?”
A shout came from outside the restaurant door, followed by a flurry of footsteps. Four or five people surged in from outside, wearing swords and sabers.
One of them already had his saber drawn and clutched in his hand.
It was he who, just now, had swung his saber at the waiter. If not for Li Miao, the waiter would have already died by his hand.
His gaze swept across the interior of the restaurant. There were few people left inside, so he easily fixed his gaze on Li Miao's table.
However, he paid no attention to Li Miao. Instead, upon seeing Yongjie, an expression of wild joy appeared on his face.
“Bro-Brother!”