Yashiro the Blind

"mix--"

Some people with short tempers wanted to start swearing, but as soon as they opened their mouths, someone patted them on the shoulder and said, "Watch your mouth."

When he turned around, he saw a tall figure pass by him, bend down to pick up the wooden gun that had fallen to the ground, and slowly walk up to the young man step by step.

"you……"

Their eyes met, and the young man's expression changed slightly. His eyes, which had previously given a dull impression, suddenly brightened and became more lively. "You're different from them. You seem quite capable. My name is Wu Er. What's yours?"

"Master Jiro."

With a flick of her wrist, the slender woman with a white headscarf raised her hand and bowed slightly in front of her chest. Her humble demeanor concealed a hidden sharpness. "Benefactor, please enlighten me."

……

Chapter Ninety-Three: Jiro, the Master of Praise

When a nest is in peril, how can any egg remain intact?

Although Buddhism has always emphasized the purity of the six senses, in this chaotic world, it is difficult for monks to remain untainted.

Even if it's just for self-preservation, one must take up arms and practice diligently day and night. Otherwise, if any band of thieves could easily trample the mountain gate and slaughter the monks, one wouldn't even be able to protect one's own life. How could one then talk about spiritual practice, self-salvation, and helping others?

On the other hand, once one takes up arms, one cannot avoid the storms and conflicts of the world. Although the abbot of Longtai Temple, Nanxi Ruiwen, has not made a move for many years, his reputation still attracts martial arts practitioners who come to him from time to time to seek his guidance. However, most of these people are of mediocre strength and can be easily dealt with by any monk—but this time is different.

Early in the morning, just as the eastern sky was beginning to lighten, a young man was waiting outside the temple.

He called himself Wu Er, wearing only a dirty, narrow-sleeved casual shirt, his hair was messy like wild grass, and his face was covered in dust. His appearance was more like that of a beggar than a traveler. He carried a tattered bundle on his back, and instead of swords, he had a heavy iron jitte stuck in his waist, covered with dried, dark bloodstains.

"I've heard that your temple's Zen Master Nanxi is an expert in spear fighting. I'd like to test my skills. If it's inconvenient for the Zen Master to make a move, someone else can do the same." He spoke bluntly, offending the monks who came to entertain him. Neither side would back down, and after just a few words, the atmosphere became tense.

However, the proper hospitality could not be neglected. Despite his anger, the monk who had been entertaining him still served him tea. After Wu Er finished drinking it, he was led to the training ground for martial arts.

“You said you wanted to experience the spear skills of Zen Master Nanxi. You don’t need him to do it; I can do it for you.” Picking up the wooden spear leaning against the weapon rack, the monk said with great pride, “Come on, you pick a weapon too—let’s just touch it and not hurt our feelings.”

"Alright." Wu Er nodded, took a wooden stick from the shelf, and the two assumed a fighting stance, facing each other. After a few breaths, the monk took the initiative to attack, intending to seize the advantage, but was knocked to the ground by the young man's stick, his head bleeding profusely, but fortunately, he was not seriously injured.

"No, you're too weak... Is there anyone stronger?" He frowned, looking at the bloodstains on the wooden stick, and asked this question. This was tantamount to calling the monks of Longtai Temple weak, which was naturally intolerable. Immediately, another person stepped forward, brandishing his spear with impressive force: "I'll be your opponent!"

Then, in another exchange, he was sent flying. Not only was the tip of his wooden spear broken, but the bones in his right hand were also broken, leaving it limp and hanging at his side.

This was just the beginning. One after another, disgruntled monks stepped forward to fight him. Seven people in total couldn't even last a single round against Wu Er's staff. They were all beaten until they were injured and vomited blood. Some fainted, while others suffered broken bones. The usually quiet and peaceful temple gates were now filled with groans and screams, and the air was thick with the smell of blood, like a scene from hell.

Seeing that Wu Er was showing signs of fatigue, they called a halt to the battle, giving him ample time to rest. They also brought him a simple vegetarian meal, lest he win a battle against a hungry opponent in a series of attacks, which would not only be dishonorable but would also invite ridicule for an unfair victory.

After resting for more than half an hour, the battle resumed. People from Longtai Temple were injured and forced to retreat one after another. Wu'er remained calm and composed. The monks watching the battle gradually became impatient: "What should we do... It seems that none of us are a match for him. Should we ask Zen Master Nanxi to come over?"

"How can we trouble Master Nanxi with such a trivial matter... It would be better to ask Senior Brother Zongjun or Jiro to come over."

"Senior Brother Zongjun is out on business and is not at the temple."

"Where's Jiro?"

"I'm not sure. According to her usual routine, she should be reading right now... I'll go and call her over!"

The whispers continued for a moment, then someone hurriedly opened the door and ran out. Wu Er rolled his brown eyes, glanced quietly in that direction, then looked away, raised his wooden stick, and said in a deep voice, "Is there anyone else willing to offer their guidance?"

"I'll take your place!" a bald man shouted angrily from the crowd, leaping out and standing opposite him. "You ignorant brat, why do you need Jiro's help? I, Haotian, alone can make you slink away with your tail between your legs!"

"Oh?" Wu Er narrowed his eyes slightly upon hearing this, a hint of anticipation appearing on his usually wooden face. "Really?"

"Whether it's real or fake, you'll know for sure once you try it!" Monk Haotian laughed heartily, brimming with confidence.

……

"Wow!"

"...so weak."

When Jiro learned what had happened from others, he rushed over and saw Haotian Monk being knocked away like a frog by a stick, lying on the ground with his buttocks sticking up and howling in pain.

She pressed her temples in slight distress, then pushed through the crowd and walked forward. Halfway there, she picked up the wooden spear that Haotian had just thrown. Beneath her white headscarf, her gentle eyes thoughtfully observed the young martial artist who had come to challenge her.

At the same time Jiro appeared, Muu, who had always given off a lazy feeling, suddenly straightened his back, his eyes flashed, and he seemed to be a sleeping lion suddenly awakened. In his rock-solid body, he suddenly exuded an amazing aura.

"You're different from them, you seem very capable. My name is Wu Er, what's yours?"

"Master Jiro."

In the exchange of questions and answers, the energy flowed and rose steadily. Jiro, holding his spear in one hand, bowed and said, "Benefactor, please enlighten me."

"it is good!"

Even his tone of voice became high-pitched. With a sudden movement, the young man, who had remained in the same spot waiting for his opponent to make a move since morning, took the initiative for the first time, his wooden staff swirling like a dragon as it hurtled down—

Before the staff even arrived, a gust of wind arose first, and the sharp sound was like the roar of a dragon. The monk Haotian, who had been groaning and watching the battle from the corner, opened his mouth wide when he saw this scene. He was 1,000 percent certain that if the same staff had landed on him, even if he had survived by chance, it would not have been as bad as just breaking two bones.

So the other party was holding back the whole time?

Thinking of this, Monk Haotian's expression changed. Rather than feeling grateful for being spared or angry at being looked down upon, his first thought was for the safety of his companion. Knowing that it wouldn't be of much use, he still endured the pain and called out a reminder, "Jiro... be careful!"

This reminder came too late.

Jiro, without dodging or yielding, didn't even use his free left hand. He held the gun with only one hand, raised it upwards, and was about to take the fierce blow head-on from the front!

Pong!

With a loud bang, the onlookers had a strange feeling that the entire training ground, and even the whole earth, was shaking violently.

However, Wu Er held the staff with both hands, while the woman held the spear with one hand. Such a huge difference should have brought a result without any suspense—but the result was that the spear remained unmoved, as solid as a mountain or the sea, without any technique to deflect the force. Jiro Hoshi blocked this shocking blow, which was like a dragon surging, with the strength of only one hand!

After the sudden crash, there was a moment of silence.

This tranquility was immediately replaced by the young man's exclamation: "What terrifying strength!"

"Surprised?"

The spear remained still, the arm did not move, the smile on Jiro's face remained unchanged, and his tone remained gentle.

"Do not."

"Oh?"

"About four years ago, I met a woman who was even more amazing and strange than you. It was from that time that I understood the truth that there are always people more capable than you, and I have never been easily surprised since."

"I see."

Master Jiro nodded, then suddenly released his grip, flipped his palm, and slapped the spear. A powerful force surged forth from the shaft, causing Wu'er's arms, which were gripping the staff, to go numb. He instinctively took a step back to absorb the force, but as soon as the distance increased, he saw the woman grip the spear shaft again, still with her right hand, wielding the spear like a staff, and striking downwards with the exact same slash that Wu'er had just used!

Snapped!

The hastily erected wooden stick broke in two, and the whistling spearhead retracted, coming to a steady stop in front of the young man's forehead.

He controlled the force with perfect precision, causing no harm whatsoever. Only the residual force stirred up a whistling wind, causing the fallen leaves and seeds mixed in with his hair to fly everywhere.

"I lost."

After a moment of silence, Wu Er tossed aside the broken stick and sighed softly.

Master Jiro sheathed his gun and smiled, "Thank you for your kind offer..." Just as he was about to turn around, he noticed the expression on the young man's face and suddenly asked, "Does the benefactor have anything else to say?"

Wu Er hesitated for a moment: "I know this may sound like an excuse, but I practice the Dangliu Ten-Surgery. This school of thought pursues head-on confrontation and using force to overcome skill. If what I hold in my hand is not a wooden stick, but an iron weapon... I may still not be your match, but it will not be so easy for you to defeat me."

He wasn't resentful after losing; rather, he was simply stating an objective fact. Jiro, without a hint of contempt or a smile, turned and glanced at the two young monks beside him who had been snickering. Once they fell silent, he smiled and said, "What you say makes sense. In that case, why don't you use your preferred weapon and spar with me again?"

"This..." Wu Er was taken aback upon hearing this. "Are you... sure?"

Swords have no eyes, and people in this era practice killing techniques. Once real weapons are used, even if it is agreed beforehand that it is just a friendly spar, it is very easy to cause death. He couldn't help but narrow his eyes, scrutinizing the woman's expression, wondering whether she was serious or just using such words to mock and humiliate him.

After some deliberation, the young man slowly nodded: "Alright, let's have another match then." His jitte, which he had originally worn at his waist, had been handed over to the monks who were receiving guests when he entered the temple. Now that Master Jiro had mentioned it, someone hurriedly brought the weapon over and returned it to him.

Wu Er swung it once to get a feel for it, then looked at Jiro again and found that the other was still holding the wooden spear. He couldn't help but ask, "Where is your weapon?"

“This is the place.” Jiro smiled slightly and raised the wooden spear in his hand.

This time, not only Muji, but even the monks of Ryutaiji Temple nearby started to clamor: "Jiro, have you gone mad?!"

"What a joke! You actually want to fight with this kind of wood and iron? Jiro, are you out of your mind?!"

"Quickly, someone go and get her that crimson spear! Don't let Jiro go mad again—"

Amidst the chaotic noise around them, Wu Er quietly gazed at her: "You really want to fight me with this wooden spear that breaks at the slightest touch?"

"If you don't want to hurt anyone, there's no difference between a wooden spear and an iron spear," the woman replied with a smile.

"What if you want to hurt someone?" Wu Er asked again.

"If Master Jiro wants to harm someone, there is no difference between an iron spear and a wooden spear." His calm tone contained unwavering confidence.

Wu Er suddenly laughed: "I take back what I just said."

"Which one?"

"The extraordinary woman I met four years ago, although I don't know whether she or you is better, in terms of being peculiar, or rather, eccentric, you have far surpassed her."

"Is that a compliment?"

You can take this as a compliment.

"Heh." Jiro chuckled lightly. "Alright, enough of this small talk. If we don't hurry up and start the second round, our bodies that we just managed to warm up will cool down again."

“Indeed.” Wu Er nodded in agreement, then clenched his fists, his feet slightly apart, in a stance resembling a beast pouncing on its prey.

On the other hand, Jiro remained as leisurely and carefree as ever, without any particular airs. He leaned his wooden spear against his side and used his free left hand to straighten his disheveled white headscarf.

One moment tense, the next relaxed; one still, the next in motion. There were no falling leaves, no referee giving orders; they simply gazed at each other, quietly preparing for the moment to strike… With each breath, the surrounding noise seemed to fade away. In the vastness of the world, only the two facing off remained, a wooden spear and a jitte.

Suddenly, the ten-handed machine started moving!

Wu Er's body slammed out like a rolling stone, the heavy blunt weapon in his hand creating a violent whooshing sound in the air. Jiro took a step back, avoiding the heavy blow that was enough to smash the great armor helmet to pieces!

Immediately following, the ten hands struck again, and the woman took her second step back. Within that small space, that mere step, lay not only the difference between victory and defeat, but an insurmountable chasm between life and death!

Then comes the third step.

As his foot landed, the spear flashed out like a grayish light, seizing Wu Er in the instant when his old strength was exhausted and his new strength had not yet emerged. The spear tip, which had been capable of splitting mountains and shattering rocks, was now resting on Wu Er's brow.

"Accepted."

If the previous exchange was about overwhelming the opponent with brute force, this time, their weapons never clashed; it was purely a contest of skill, three moves against one, one move breaking three moves. Looking at Jiro's smile, Muu closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, a relieved smile appeared on his face.

"I lost."

Although the words were the same, the feelings were completely different. Wu Er sighed, his smile faded, and he solemnly admitted defeat: "You are very good. I admit it... I am completely convinced."

“Your skill with the Ten Hands is also quite good.”

"The skill of a loser is not worthy of such praise. When I have made some progress, I will compete with you again—" After saying this, he put his hands back on his waist, turned around and left. He left cleanly and neatly. For a moment, none of the monks wanted to stop him or dared to stop him. They parted to make way for the young man and watched him leave.

"Wait……"

Jiro wanted to call out to the other person, but in the blink of an eye, he had already disappeared. He could only sigh softly, "This benefactor is really impatient. He hasn't even taken his luggage yet... Never mind." He looked around and randomly found a young monk, instructing him to chase after him and deliver the bundle to Wu'er.

"Okay, okay..." The poor little monk was almost in tears.

"It's alright, this benefactor is not a bad person and won't kill you," Master Jiro comforted him.

"What...what if?" The little monk was somewhat skeptical.

"If anything happens to me, I will avenge you." The woman patted his shoulder and walked out of the dojo.

The young monk, looking on the verge of tears, trembled as he looked around: "Master Jiro was... just joking, wasn't he?"

"..."

"..."

The crowd remained silent, only looking at him with pity.

"You're joking, right!?"

This time, the little monk really cried.

……

Just as he stepped out of the temple, he nearly collided with a figure rushing towards him. Jiro, having anticipated this, remained calm, simply reaching out to steady the person, saying, "The temple is a quiet place; don't wander around, you might bump into someone..."

"Oh...oh." The other person stopped, blushed upon hearing the reminder, and stammered in response.

It was a dance costume.

Of course, considering that she is now dressed in impeccable men's attire, it would probably be more appropriate to call her a martial artist.

"Wu Liu, it really is you. I guessed it was about time you returned." Meeting her gaze, the monk Jiro said with a smile, then looked behind her at the petite figure carrying a biwa (a type of Chinese lute) and slowly approaching. "Who is this?" he asked, puzzled.

At this moment, the latter also arrived in front of him. Hearing the woman's question, he smiled and replied, "Nice to meet you. My name is Jiro-hoshi."

"Huh? If you are Jiro-hoshi, then who am I?"