I became the King of Ryukyu

"Ah, what kind of behavior is this!" Ishikawa Takamatsu and Hakurei Shonin walked over together, and when they saw their juniors behaving so recklessly, their old faces turned red.

"Hahaha, have you forgotten how we were when we were kids, Master Ishikawa? You even punched me over a roasted chicken butt!" Venerable Bai Ling laughed kindly, his eyes full of loving kindness and tolerance for his junior.

Upon seeing the arrival of the two elders, the four of them became more reserved.

Suddenly reminded of something, she took out the jade pastries that Zheng Yi had made earlier from her cloth bag and distributed them to everyone to taste.

Master Bailing picked up a piece and took a bite. His eyes narrowed slightly, then he showed a hint of surprise: "This is the ancient method of making Jade Pastry? The ratio of green tea to bean flour is just right. It's crisp but not crumbly, and clear but not bland. I haven't tasted such authentic craftsmanship in many years."

He genuinely enjoyed it. After finishing one piece, he shamelessly asked for another, disregarding his status as the abbot. He held it in his mouth and savored it slowly, reciting a Buddhist mantra as he did so, much like a playful old man.

This behavior made Zheng Yi even more suspicious. Was this old monk really the head of a criminal organization, that "Luoji Ghost"?

With no new intelligence available, Zheng Yi decided to take the initiative.

The meal was enjoyed by both host and guests. As night fell on the mountainside, everyone dispersed, with two young women sharing a room and three men sharing another.

The torrential rain not only destroyed the roads, but also damaged the power cable leading to Lingquan Temple.

Today, only the main hall of the entire temple is powered by a single diesel generator—a common practice in public places during the frequent typhoon season in the Ryukyu region.

With insufficient power, candles were lit in the guest rooms, their light flickering.

The faces of the Yuki and Saiunkoku sisters shone brightly in the candlelight.

They hadn't seen each other for many years, and they chatted all the way with endless things to say.

Zheng Yi's tea snacks were very popular, and You Ji was proud of them. Naturally, she also recommended Zheng Yi's tea cakes to her cousin and grandfather. Although the process was hasty and simple, it was a novel experience.

Ishikawa Takamatsu took the tea cake and went out again to show it off to the monks he knew.

In the men's meditation room, after checking and confirming that there were no cameras or similar devices, Zheng Yi asked Cheye and Xiaopang to act as his protectors, and then activated the skill [Spiritual Transformation].

With a flash of light, he had changed into a tight-fitting black outfit, his face masked below his eyes, and even his posture had been slightly adjusted, making him look completely different from the student he had been during the day.

He slipped out of the guest room through the window, intending to grab a random night patrol monk, put him in a sack, and beat him up to see if the system would pop up a hostile alert, so he could distinguish friend from foe.

The rain intensified at night, and the paper lanterns under the eaves were extinguished by the rain. Only the faint light of candles in the distance and the electric lights in the main hall could be heard.

Zheng Yi had just circled around to the bamboo grove behind the guest room when he saw a dark figure slowly walking over, leaning on a cane. The figure was hunched over, and from behind, it was clear that it was an elderly man.

To catch the thief, first catch the king; let's test the mere quality of this Master Bai Ling first!

Without thinking, Zheng Yi pulled out a sack, strode forward, and slung it over his head. Then, he punched his shoulders and back repeatedly, holding back his strength so that it only hurt but didn't cause serious injury.

The person in the sack was stunned for a moment, then burst out with a string of angry curses, a mix of Ryukyuan dialect and Japanese, in a variety of ways.

The more Zheng Yi listened to the voice, the more familiar it sounded. He suddenly stopped—this voice sounds so much like Ishikawa Takamatsu's.

He quickly stopped, grabbed the corner of the sack and pulled it down, revealing the old man's face with a puffed-up beard and glaring eyes. Half of his cheek was swollen, and there was a bruise on his forehead. As for game hints, there wasn't a single one.

My fists have really been wronged.

Zheng Yi cursed his bad luck inwardly, twisted his slightly sore wrist, and realized he had exerted all his strength for nothing. Well, at least he had eliminated the old village chief as a suspect.

Ishikawa Takashi was so angry that he trembled all over and swung his rattan cane to hit him.

Zheng Yi dared not let him recognize him. Before the other party could recover, he called out to Che Ye Xiaopang from the shadows and delivered a powerful elbow strike to the back of the old man's head, knocking him unconscious.

Zheng Yi immediately took out the snakeskin bag containing the Rejuvenation Pill from the game's inventory and forced it into the old man's mouth.

How could a low-grade pill like the Rejuvenation Pill have the effect of melting in the mouth?

Ishikawa Takamatsu was jolted awake, feeling his stomach swell so much that his eyes rolled back, but he didn't notice that his swollen cheeks immediately felt cool.

However, it's possible that most of the medicine's effects were used to counteract the fat boy's black elbow, and Ishikawa Takashiro almost died from overeating, with the injuries on his face not fully healed.

By the time he swallowed the medicine while coughing, the man in black in front of him had already leaped over the wall and disappeared into the rain, leaving him alone in the bamboo forest, covering his cheek and stomping his feet in anger.

This time, Zheng Yi learned his lesson and chose a lone middle-aged monk—those who were too old were not strong enough to withstand a fight, and those who were too young were probably not core members of the party.

Zheng Yi remembered that the middle-aged monk was the head cook of Lingquan Temple, and that the vegetarian meal just now was prepared by him.

Having even beaten up the respected maternal grandfather of the entertainer, Zheng Yi no longer cared about repaying kindness with enmity.

He struck the middle-aged monk hard with a club, put a sack over his head, and began to torture him.

Sure enough, a prompt appeared before my eyes.

You have defeated a demonic monk from the Western Regions and gained a small amount of experience.

Zheng Yi breathed a sigh of relief; this time he hadn't hit the wrong person!

But what about the heretical monk from the Western Regions?

Zheng Yi was somewhat puzzled. This monk was at most a Japanese sorcerer, so how did he become a monk from the Western Regions?

Looking at that bruised and swollen face, he didn't look like a mixed-race person at all.

It was Cheye Xiaopang who arrived and, after searching around, actually found several hundred US dollars, an American passport, and a small mobile phone that looked like a Nokia from the 00s in the middle-aged monk's wallet.

Zheng Yi threw all these things into the game warehouse, then stripped the middle-aged monk naked, ordered Cheye Xiaopang to give him a Soviet-style sit-down on the neck, and then threw him off the cliff behind the mountain.

Zheng Yi changed his clothes in the bamboo forest, circled around, and then slipped back to his guest room through the main entrance. He heard heavy footsteps outside the door, and then the door was pushed open.

Ishikawa Takamatsu walked in with a dark expression, half his face still swollen, but he braced himself and plopped down on the tatami mat, slamming his cane heavily on the ground: "Damn it! I came out at night to check on how the remains were being arranged, and I ran into those right-wing bastards! They started beating me up without warning, clearly targeting me for collecting the remains!"

The Japanese right wing has consistently downplayed and denied the Ryukyu massacre, and people like Takamatsu Ishikawa, who digs up bones, are naturally a thorn in their side. This is not the first time he has been threatened and beaten by them.

So this time, without a second thought, Ishikawa Takamatsu pinned the blame on the right-wing elements.

He first went to Master Bailing to complain, mainly to warn his old friend to be on guard, as Ishikawa Takamatsu suspected that right-wing elements would destroy the returned remains.