The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

Qiu Laohu spotted Qin Tiehua, who had just stood up in the hall, and his snake-like eyes immediately gleamed with lewd light. He had been humiliated by Chen Shimei last time and dared not openly cause trouble at the Wang family's shop. His pent-up lust had been burning within him, and now that he had met him in the temple, how could he let him go?

He strode forward, ignoring the solemn atmosphere in the hall, and stood directly in front of Qin Tiehua, grinning lewdly, "Little lady, it's been so long, you've become even more beautiful! What future is there following that poor soup seller? Why not come with me, your grandpa, and I'll guarantee you a life of luxury!"

As he spoke, he reached out to touch Qin Tiehua's face.

"You bastard, what are you doing! Why don't you go home and grope your mother!" Qin Tiehua was both shocked and furious. She took a step back, her eyebrows furrowed, and cursed loudly.

"Let go of my sister Tiehua!" Wang Xiangjun's face turned pale with fright, but she mustered up the courage to scream.

Madam Yao quickly shielded the two girls behind her, and sternly rebuked them, "Where did these madmen come from? This is a sacred Buddhist temple, how dare you be so disrespectful!"

"A quiet place? Damn it, this place will be lively as soon as I arrive!"

Qiu Laohu laughed heartily, reaching out to smear Qin Tiehua's face with his perfumed hand, his henchmen joining in the commotion. Seeing Qin Tiehua dodge, he became even more emboldened, pressing closer: "Spicy little wench, my darling, don't hide, let me give you a good thrashing..."

"Qiu Qiu! I'll curse your ancestors!"

A thunderous roar came from outside the hall! Qin Tiedan's eyes were bloodshot, like a mad lion. He swung his fist, as big as a vinegar jar, with a gust of evil wind, straight at Qiu Laohu's face! He had been holding back his anger for a long time. Now that this bastard dared to flirt with Tiehua, whom he regarded as his own sister, in front of the Buddha, how could he possibly hold back?

Caught off guard, Qiu Laohu was struck squarely on the bridge of his nose by this angry blow. With a crisp "crack," blood gushed out instantly, causing him to scream in agony.

"Damn it! Beat him! Beat him to death!" Qiu Laohu covered his nose, his ugly scars contorted in agony.

The group of hooligans swarmed forward, surrounding Qin Tiedan. Although Qin Tiedan was brave, he was no match for so many hands and soon took several punches and kicks.

"Let go of my brother!" Qin Tiehua mustered his courage and rushed forward, but was blocked by the hooligans. He was so anxious that tears welled up in his eyes.

Yao and Wang Xiangjun cried out in alarm, "Help! Someone's been killed!"

The group of devout men and women were stunned and dared not provoke these thugs.

Amidst the chaos, a clear, cold voice rang out: "Bullying the weak with numbers, Qiu Laohu, you're still as despicable as ever."

Everyone looked in the direction of the sound and saw that Wang Zhonghua had arrived at some point and was standing at the entrance of the hall, his face icy cold and his eyes sharp as knives. Behind him were two monks from the temple who had rushed over upon hearing the news.

Wang Zhonghua's gaze swept across the arena. He saw that Qin Tiedan, though at a disadvantage, was still fighting to the death. His mother and sister were pale with fright. Qin Tiehua was humiliated, and an inexplicable anger surged to his head.

Without another word, he moved with a speed several times greater than he had been by the river that day! Unlike Qin Tiedan, he didn't charge head-on; instead, he moved like a fish, cutting into the fray. He aimed for a ruffian's joint and delivered a precise kick to the back of the knee, sending the ruffian screaming and collapsing to his knees. Immediately after, he struck another man in the ribs with his elbow, and as the man bent over, he grabbed his arm, twisted and shoved him away!

These few moves were clean and swift, carrying a ruthlessness and skill unlike that of ordinary farmers. It was a combination of the Black Dragon Eighteen Hands of the Armed Police that he had seen on Douyin in his previous life and the power generation method of modern grappling and fighting. You should know that in his previous life, martial arts novels, martial arts movies and martial arts games were very popular. He was a small office worker, but he was also a martial arts enthusiast and a member of the "Fist Master" fighting club in the county!

If he weren't agile, he wouldn't dare to show off his "diving skills" from the seven-meter-high permeable dam.

Just as Qiu Laohu's nosebleed subsided, he was both shocked and enraged to see Wang Zhonghua, who had once been as gentle as rice, suddenly become so formidable. He grabbed a prayer mat from the corner of the hall and hurled it at Qiu Laohu. Wang Zhonghua dodged to the side, then advanced instead of retreating, taking a step forward to be in front of Qiu Laohu. Just as Qiu Laohu's large, fan-like hand reached for him, Wang Zhonghua lowered his stance and, with all his might, delivered a powerful Iron Mountain Lean into Qiu Laohu's thick chest and abdomen!

"Ugh!" Qiu Laohu was caught off guard and felt as if his internal organs had shifted. His stomach churned violently, and his massive body staggered back several steps before collapsing to the ground in a disheveled state.

"good!"

A powerful yet calm cheer, not loud, clearly suppressed all the noise in the room, like a morning bell and evening drum, penetrating straight to the heart.

Following the sound, everyone looked and saw an old monk draped in a crimson robe slowly approaching from the side hall. His face was lean and slender, his complexion ruddy like a baby's, showing no signs of age. His long, snow-white eyebrows almost reached his cheeks, fluttering slightly in the breeze, adding to his otherworldly air. His eyes were not sharp or intimidating, but rather clear and gentle, yet wherever his gaze fell, a sense of peace involuntarily arose within, as if all restlessness and violence were silently washed away by his gaze.

He walked with a leisurely pace, seemingly unhurried, yet he arrived in an instant. The several young monks following behind him each walked with steady steps and bright eyes, clearly skilled in martial arts. However, standing behind this old monk, they were like stars surrounding the moon, their demeanor completely enveloped by the old monk's gentle and peaceful presence.

"Master Huiming!" The guest monk quickly put his palms together in a gesture of respect, his tone filled with awe.

The visitor was none other than Abbot Huiming of Shousheng Temple. This old monk enjoyed extremely high prestige in Chenzhou and even the surrounding prefectures. It was rumored that he was deeply versed in Buddhism, possessed unique insights into Zen principles, and had once debated with eminent monks from the Xiangguo Temple in the capital without being at a disadvantage. Moreover, his martial arts skills were unfathomable. In his early years, he had traveled far and wide, punishing evil and upholding justice. Although he spent his later years in quiet meditation in the temple and rarely made a move, his cultivation was so profound that no one dared to underestimate him. For ordinary people, obtaining even a single word of guidance from him was as difficult as ascending to heaven, yet today he had taken the initiative to appear.

Master Huiming's gaze swept across the scene with gentle calmness, lingering briefly on the mess of the fight and the still-shaken pilgrims, before finally landing on Wang Zhonghua, who had stopped his stance, was slightly out of breath but had clear eyes. A flash of surprise and admiration crossed his eyes, before returning to the stillness of a deep pool.

He turned to Qiu Laohu, who was struggling to get up, his voice calm as usual, yet carrying an undeniable, heart-touching power: "Benefactor Qiu, your name is renowned far and wide, but our Buddhist temple is a place of tranquility, a place for purifying the mind and clarifying one's nature, not a place for fighting and violence. Your clamor and disturbance have disturbed the peaceful minds of pilgrims from all directions, which has violated the compassionate essence of Buddhism. If you do not leave quickly, this old monk will have no choice but to petition the authorities to protect the peace of this place."

Qiu Laohu's arrogance had been shattered by Wang Zhonghua, and now, facing this unfathomable old monk, he felt as if a huge rock was pressing down on his chest. An invisible pressure enveloped his entire body, and he couldn't even utter a few harsh words.

Old monk, you're truly amazing!

He glared fiercely at Wang Zhonghua and Qin Tiedan, his eyes filled with venom as sharp as an autumn snake: "Fine! You just wait! This isn't over!" With that, he was helped away by his men, looking disheveled and hurried away.

"Thank you for your help, Master." Wang Zhonghua suppressed his inner turmoil, stepped forward, and bowed respectfully.

Master Huiming's warm and clear eyes seemed to reflect the most subtle ripples in people's hearts, and quietly rested on Wang Zhonghua for a moment.

The gaze wasn't sharp, yet it gave Wang Zhonghua a strange feeling—as if he wasn't just being looked at, but being "observed." A moment later, Master Huiming's white eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly, like a ripple on a still pond. A faint, yet meaningful smile appeared on his lips, and his voice grew even more peaceful, yet each word was clear, like the lingering echo of a sunset, gently resonating into Wang Zhonghua's ears and heart:

He paused briefly, his gaze seemingly piercing through Wang Zhonghua, reaching into the distant, unknowable void, before returning to the young man before him, and slowly said:

"...Young benefactor's origins seem to have come from afar, like the fleeting traces of wind and thunder carried by a thousand mountains and ten thousand waves. However, this wind and thunder is too new, and there is still a causal gap between it and the current climate and weather of this place. Just now, I saw the benefactor's move; the steps were agile, the power exerted was short and precise. Although it seemed to be without moves or style, it deeply embodied the principle of 'controlling others without being controlled by them,' and it also possessed a calm composure in the face of danger, which is truly rare. May I ask which master the young benefactor studied under?"

He looked at Wang Zhonghua again, his gaze still clear, yet it seemed to contain a silent understanding and acceptance.

Wang Zhonghua felt a chill run down his spine. This old monk not only possessed extraordinary martial arts skills and knowledge, but his insight was also extremely sharp. He bowed again, his tone becoming even more respectful: "Master, you flatter me. I am humbled. I truly have no master. In my haste, I was merely acting on instinct and struggling haphazardly."

Master, you are truly amazing!