My wife is a reborn big boss

Happy times always pass quickly, and it was already past midnight.

Now that the play has ended, it's time to get down to business.

"Senior Brother Xuankong, what should we do with Xuanle?" asked Master Xuanjie, who was in charge of the Discipline Hall.

Abbot Xuankong's face was serene: "Amitabha. Xuanle, is there anything else you would like to say?"

Xuan Le opened his eyes: "Give me a chance."

"What can you still do now?" Master Xuanji mocked.

Xuan Le sneered: "It seems you haven't truly gained the Golden Light Buddha's trust either. The 'Bodhi Enlightenment Dharma' obtained from the Thousand Buddha Cave is not a fragment, but the complete version."

He then turned to Abbot Xuankong and pleaded, "Senior Brother Xuankong, I beg you to consider my hard work and dedication over the past ten years, even if I haven't achieved anything significant, and give me a chance to return to the Thousand Buddha Cave and retrieve the complete 'Bodhi Enlightenment Dharma' to offer to Shaolin!"

Abbot Xuankong remained silent, but Master Xuanji couldn't help but laugh out loud: "Let's not even talk about whether you can get the manual back, or even if you do, whether you'll come back. I just want to ask, how do you know I only brought back a fragment?"

Xuan Le's face turned deathly pale: "Could it be...? No...it's impossible..."

Master Xuanji smiled disdainfully: "This humble monk is not as foolish as you."

Abbot Xuankong opened his eyes, his face full of compassion: "Junior Brother Xuanle, don't worry, this humble monk will escort you away."

Xuan Le's face lit up with joy. Enduring the excruciating pain tearing through his abdomen, he crawled to Abbot Xuan Kong's side and kowtowed heavily, saying, "Thank you, Senior Brother! Thank you, Senior Brother!"

"Amitabha, well done, well done..." Abbot Xuankong, with a compassionate heart, shattered Xuanle's skull with a single palm strike. Xuanle didn't even have time to react, his face still showing the joy of surviving a calamity.

The three masters, Xuanji, Xuanhua, and Xuanjie, all remained expressionless.

Only Wu Qiong remained doubtful and uncertain.

Abbot Xuankong turned around: "Young Master Wu."

Wu Qiong suddenly retreated several feet, and said warily, "Please speak."

Does he want to silence me?

"...Why are you so far away?" Abbot Xuankong asked, puzzled.

"The moon looks rounder here," Wu Qiong explained.

"..." Abbot Xuankong, seeing Wu Qiong's distrust, smiled wryly and said, "Young Hero Wu, please rest assured, our temple will not harm you."

Wu Qiong glanced at Xuan Le, who was lying lifeless on the ground, and said speechlessly, "Master, please don't joke. If you didn't want to silence me, why would you kill Xuan Le, who is already a cripple?"

I really regret not bringing Xiaobai along. If the two of them were together, I might have been able to escape without paying a price.

Abbot Xuankong said with a sorrowful expression, "Because this humble monk could not bear to see Junior Brother Xuanle continue to suffer."

Xuanji spoke up: "Senior brother is still too kind."

Xuanjie and Xuanhua chimed in, "Yes, yes."

Wu Qiong: "Hehe..."

These bald guys must be crazy!

Xuan Kong looked at Wu Qiong reproachfully: "Does Young Hero Wu intend to let him live and be tortured? No, that's too cruel, this humble monk absolutely will not allow it!"

"Isn't it good to be alive?" Wu Qiong thought wearily.

Xuan Kong shook his head and said seriously, "Young Master Wu, please put yourself in his shoes. If you were an elder in a top-tier sect in the martial world, and one day your dantian was suddenly destroyed, all the extraordinary skills you had cultivated for decades vanished, and you became a traitor who was not tolerated by the world, could you endure the inner torment and suffering, as well as the strange looks from the world, and persevere in living on?"

"No..." Wu Qiong whispered.

But Xuan Le is capable! Judging from how strong his will to live was just now, he clearly preferred to live rather than die!

"So to avoid his suffering, this humble monk would rather bear the karmic burden than see him tormented." Abbot Xuankong closed his eyes with a pained expression and clasped his hands together.

The other three masters also clasped their hands together, and the four of them simultaneously chanted the Buddha's name: "Amitabha..."

Faced with a lineup of two "Innate" and two "Daoist Natural" masters, Wu Qiong wisely chose to forget about it.

Who is Xuan Le? Is there such a person in Shaolin Temple?

Abbot Xuankong revealed a smile that said, "Since this matter is settled, let's fulfill the promise we made to you last night. You may study the three unique martial arts techniques, 'Mahayana Immeasurable Mantra,' 'Diamond Sutra,' and 'Bodhi Enlightenment Great Method,' for one night, but you must be accompanied by your two junior brothers, Xuanjie and Xuanhua."

The deal reached last night was that Wu Qiong would help investigate several spies within the temple and identify them. If successful, Shaolin would allow him to observe the "Mahayana Infinite Power Manual" and the "Bodhi Enlightenment Great Method" and "Diamond Sutra" brought back by Xuanji.

"Thank you, Abbot, you truly keep your word." Wu Qiong bowed solemnly, and then, led by Xuan Jie and the other two, headed towards the Scripture Pavilion.

A muttered voice came faintly from behind: "You think you can just leave after offending the abbot?"

Wu Qiong quickened his pace as he left.

"Senior brother, is it really a good idea to let an outsider learn these three supreme techniques? After all, the three volumes combined are the legendary golden martial arts practiced by Bodhidharma." Xuanji frowned, then suddenly had a flash of inspiration: "I understand! Senior brother sees that this boy is destined for greatness. If we can't eliminate him now, we should befriend him and establish good relations to prevent him from harming Shaolin in the future!"

"Junior brother, you've returned to Shaolin now, and you no longer need to act, so don't overthink things."

"Then why...?"

"It's alright." Master Xuankong interrupted him, saying calmly, "The 'Buddha's Heart-Crossing Technique,' which combines three volumes, is indeed a golden-level martial art, but it has a fatal flaw, so it's fine for Young Hero Wu to obtain it."

Xuanji said in a deep voice, "Unless one has a thousand years of cultivation, even if one learns this technique, one will not be able to use it."

Abbot Xuankong nodded, his smile mysterious: "Moreover, Young Hero Wu's connection with Shaolin goes beyond this."

Master Xuanji seemed to be deep in thought upon hearing this...

.........

The next morning, Wu Qiong woke up from his meditation, put down the three volumes of martial arts manuals in his hands, greeted the two masters, Xuan Jie and Xuan Hua, who had been guarding him all night, and walked out of the Scripture Pavilion.

As he walked, he mentally cursed, "What the hell! The Tathagata's Complete Treatise on Saving Minds? It requires a thousand years of cultivation? Where the hell am I supposed to get a thousand years of cultivation?!"

Not far away, a little white girl with her arms crossed was leaning against a tree, resting with her eyes closed. She had been keeping watch there all night.

Wu Qiong quietly approached and carefully examined her.

Just then, the sun was rising, and sunlight filtered through the leaves onto her face, softening her cool and beautiful features.

Wu Qiong couldn't help but reach out his sinful left hand and touch...her face.

The little white girl opened her eyes, her clear black and white eyes looking at him quietly.

Just then, a gentle breeze blew by, and a strand of Su Mubai's hair playfully fell in front of her ear. Wu Qiong's outstretched left hand naturally tucked the strand of hair behind her ear, and instead of withdrawing his hand, he gently stroked her delicate, flushed earlobe.

After a long silence, he said softly, "That's wonderful."

As the gentle spring breeze blew by, seventeen-year-old Su Mubai stood there.

People say that time never truly passes, and youth never truly departs, yet alas, youth drifts away helplessly, and memories fade with the wind. From twenty-seven to seventeen, a deep gaze spans ten years, but how many more than ten years can tell all these stories? After all, youth is immature, and time flows like water.

The morning sunlight of spring shone on his face, adding a touch of gentleness to the upturned corners of his mouth.

The young woman stared at him blankly.

After a long while, his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Meeting you for the first time feels like meeting an old friend..."