Chapter 615: This Is True Domineeringness

Chapter 615 The Haughty One

Deep within the Sangyan Buddhist Land, endless thunderclouds and tempests encircled a towering mountain that seemed to pierce the sky.

A path no wider than a footpath wound up the mountain, jagged and treacherous, with sheer drops plunging into the abyss on either side.

Zhang Sizuan deliberately stepped on a loose stone with his toe, listening intently for a moment, yet no echo returned—only the howling wind and snow swirling around him.

Such an isolated environment should have been serene, yet at the moment he set foot on the path, a strange sensation of unease prickled his back.

Countless pairs of eyes must have been fixed on him in the shadows, some cold, some wary, some hesitant—all united in ill intent.

"This path is dangerous," Zhang Sizuan muttered, glancing at Yuan Mingfeng ahead. He suddenly raised his sleeve, lifted the hem of his robe to his waist, and clutched his fists, bowing them to the left and right.

In this situation, his gestures seemed absurdly out of place.

It was as if a street vendor performing a trick were introducing himself to a crowd before beginning, shouting his name and bowing.

"Everyone, uncles, aunts, brothers, and sisters—my name is Zhang Sizuan, of the Zhang family from North Zhili. This is my new sister-in-law I just met."

Yuan Mingfeng caught the sound with her peripheral vision, seeing Zhang Sizuan grinning broadly, addressing the air with a loud voice.

"We, the two of us, have come up the mountain not for anything else but to resolve a personal matter with Lin Jiapoba. We won’t interfere with your affairs or seek any advantage. Once the task is done, we’ll leave immediately, no lingering."

Zhang Sizuan chattered nonstop, speaking as he walked: "Please, uncles, aunts, brothers, and sisters, be kind. Don’t take offense, don’t summon the Buddha’s realm to me, don’t drag me into dreams. Things like the Heavenly Path, Star Constellations, or Blood and Flesh Fields— I won’t even look at them. I’ve always been timid and cautious, prone to emotional outbursts. If I cause a misunderstanding, it could get messy."

At this mountain pass, the wind bit like a blade, and his words echoed faintly, fragmented by the cold.

Yet he was certain those hidden in the storm could hear and grasp his meaning.

But would they dare to show mercy? How far would they go? Even Zhang Sizuan wasn’t sure.

After all, this was his first time deliberately wearing the Zhang family’s fierce reputation, and he had no experience in such matters.

"Still, my grandfather has been ruling the Great Ming Empire for decades, so there must be some deterrence, right?"

The thought hadn’t fully formed when his expression suddenly dropped. He shot his eyes toward the sky.

A massive figure emerged from the dark clouds, crashing down onto the path.

The man wore a bright yellow monk’s robe, his presence exuding a disciplined aura, likely a high-ranking figure from a Han Buddhist sect.

"Damn, so no face at all?"

Before Zhang Sizuan could finish, the man’s eyes suddenly cleared, as if his mind had been stolen, and he collapsed headfirst into the cliffside.

"Hmph, no distinction between friend and foe, killing anyone who crosses you—how brutal is this Buddhist sect!"

A cold snarl echoed from above.

Yuan Mingfeng remained composed, her face unreadable as she continued climbing.

Seeing this, Zhang Sizuan inhaled deeply, dispelling the cold from his face, and returned to his gentle, scholarly smile.

"Everyone, please calm down. My sister has a short temper, and given her long-standing grudge with Sangyan Temple, she’s naturally agitated. Her actions were impulsive."

Zhang Sizuan bowed solemnly: "This is our fault, but rest assured, the Zhang family will compensate fully!"

"Open your mouth, Zhang family, close your mouth, Zhang family. Zhang Sizuan—do you only use your surname as a shield?"

A mocking voice drifted from the wind: "I advise you to settle this quickly. The New Eastern Lin Party has already left the area. If something happens, ‘Zhang’ may not save you."

"Old saying: Don’t provoke those with no face. But how does that apply here?"

Zhang Sizuan paused, muttering to himself, his smile widening with self-deprecation.

"Perhaps in your eyes, Zhang Fengyue is already outdated, or maybe I, Zhang Sizuan, am too low-key, making it easy to provoke? All of you are shameless, aren’t you?"

His face grew fierce, pointing toward the source of the voice.

"That man who just now pretended to be humble near me—you should be the bald monk from Lanshan Temple. You can’t deny it. I’ve mastered the Six Arts best in recognizing people and holding grudges. You can’t escape."

A thunderous roar shook the sky, the wind and snow unable to withstand it.

"Everything I said earlier, I’ll tell your father word for word. Don’t worry, he won’t care about such a fool. But I warn you—those who seek to ally with the Zhang family’s Confucian scholars are many. When the time comes, I’ll bring them to Lanshan Temple, adding fire and fuel, building temples and donating money!"

As he spoke, mocking laughter erupted.

"Who gave you the right to laugh? Shut your mouth!"

Zhang Sizuan raised an eyebrow, pressing his lips, his usual self-deprecating demeanor replaced by a storm of arrogance. His voice now roared, boiling and overwhelming.

All sounds ceased abruptly, followed by a muffled groan and a severed arm falling from the clouds.

"Zhang son, your disciple’s words were impolite, violating the precept. I hope you can forgive."

"You’re the abbot of Lanshan Temple?"

Zhang Sizuan smirked coldly: "Do you think your disciples are only one-handed?"

No one answered. The cold in the air grew sharper.

A moment later, another arm, crackling with electricity, was thrown into the sky.

"Enough?"

The abbot’s voice remained calm, but its menace was palpable.

"Not enough."

Zhang Sizuan replied indifferently: "Was he speaking with his hands?"

A head, filled with terror, was hurled from above, smashing into the rock with a splash of white blood.

"Enough?"

The abbot’s voice rose. Zhang Sizuan remained unmoved.

"Not enough! Using such trivial things to bargain with me? It’s not that simple!"

Zhang Sizuan growled: "Extract his wisdom root today. Otherwise, I’ll have Six Tao’s soldiers constantly bombing your temple. See if your morning and evening bells can withstand their self-destruction!"

"Zhang son, be merciful. Don’t be too harsh."

"Last time, you didn’t show mercy. I’m teaching you: Don’t impose what you don’t want on others. Do you understand? If not, I’ll explain. Since no one wants to give the other side an advantage, then no one should. Who has the bigger fist has the right to speak!"

Zhang Sizuan spoke slowly, each word deliberate: "I ask you one last time—will you extract the wisdom root or not?"

Bang!

A cascade of white blood rained down, mingled with flesh and weapon fragments, falling in pieces.

Lanshan Abbot hadn’t extracted the root, but the blood rain itself seemed to convey defeat and humiliation.

"Next time, if you want to test someone, do it yourself. Don’t send your subordinates as pawns. Lanshan Abbot."

Zhang Sizuan looked up, mocking: "I heard your father mentioned you—he said you’re shallow in Buddhist knowledge but greedy, full of empty talk, yet constantly seeking money. Even in places like the Wa region, you’d try to exploit. If not for Su’s intervention, you’d have been beaten here long ago!"

Boom!

A thunderclap lit the clouds, revealing a colossal, terrifying Buddha figure seated in meditation.

"What do you want? How do you want it? Come down, and we’ll fight."

Zhang Sizuan pulled out a strange, oddly shaped long bow from nowhere, undeterred by the oppressive pressure above.

"For decades, I’ve been played around with, and now I’m still stuck in the Buddhist sect? I don’t see your face to come out? Calling me uncle? Taking yourself as an elder? You’ve aged without substance, pretending to be virtuous!"

Chapter 615 The Haughty One

Deep within the Sangyan Buddhist Land, endless thunderclouds and tempests encircled a towering mountain that seemed to pierce the sky.

A path no wider than a footpath wound up the mountain, jagged and treacherous, with sheer drops plunging into the abyss on either side.

Zhang Sizuan deliberately stepped on a loose stone with his toe, listening intently for a moment, yet no echo returned—only the howling wind and snow swirling around him.

Such an isolated environment should have been serene, yet at the moment he set foot on the path, a strange sensation of unease prickled his back.

Countless pairs of eyes must have been fixed on him in the shadows, some cold, some wary, some hesitant—all united in ill intent.

"This path is dangerous," Zhang Sizuan muttered, glancing at Yuan Mingfeng ahead. He suddenly raised his sleeve, lifted the hem of his robe to his waist, and clutched his fists, bowing them to the left and right.

In this situation, his gestures seemed absurdly out of place.

It was as if a street vendor performing a trick were introducing himself to a crowd before beginning, shouting his name and bowing.

"Everyone, uncles, aunts, brothers, and sisters—my name is Zhang Sizuan, of the Zhang family from North Zhili. This is my new sister-in-law I just met."

Yuan Mingfeng caught the sound with her peripheral vision, seeing Zhang Sizuan grinning broadly, addressing the air with a loud voice.

"We, the two of us, have come up the mountain not for anything else but to resolve a personal matter with Lin Jiapoba. We won’t interfere with your affairs or seek any advantage. Once the task is done, we’ll leave immediately, no lingering."

Zhang Sizuan chattered nonstop, speaking as he walked: "Please, uncles, aunts, brothers, and sisters, be kind. Don’t take offense, don’t summon the Buddha’s realm to me, don’t drag me into dreams. Things like the Heavenly Path, Star Constellations, or Blood and Flesh Fields— I won’t even look at them. I’ve always been timid and cautious, prone to emotional outbursts. If I cause a misunderstanding, it could get messy."

At this mountain pass, the wind bit like a blade, and his words echoed faintly, fragmented by the cold.

Yet he was certain those hidden in the storm could hear and grasp his meaning.

But would they dare to show mercy? How far would they go? Even Zhang Sizuan wasn’t sure.

After all, this was his first time deliberately wearing the Zhang family’s fierce reputation, and he had no experience in such matters.

"Still, my grandfather has been ruling the Great Ming Empire for decades, so there must be some deterrence, right?"

The thought hadn’t fully formed when his expression suddenly dropped. He shot his eyes toward the sky.

A massive figure emerged from the dark clouds, crashing down onto the path.

The man wore a bright yellow monk’s robe, his presence exuding a disciplined aura, likely a high-ranking figure from a Han Buddhist sect.

"Damn, so no face at all?"

Before Zhang Sizuan could finish, the man’s eyes suddenly cleared, as if his mind had been stolen, and he collapsed headfirst into the cliffside.

"Hmph, no distinction between friend and foe, killing anyone who crosses you—how brutal is this Buddhist sect!"

A cold snarl echoed from above.

Yuan Mingfeng remained composed, her face unreadable as she continued climbing.

Seeing this, Zhang Sizuan inhaled deeply, dispelling the cold from his face, and returned to his gentle, scholarly smile.

"Everyone, please calm down. My sister has a short temper, and given her long-standing grudge with Sangyan Temple, she’s naturally agitated. Her actions were impulsive."

Zhang Sizuan bowed solemnly: "This is our fault, but rest assured, the Zhang family will compensate fully!"

"Open your mouth, Zhang family, close your mouth, Zhang family. Zhang Sizuan—do you only use your surname as a shield?"

A mocking voice drifted from the wind: "I advise you to settle this quickly. The New Eastern Lin Party has already left the area. If something happens, ‘Zhang’ may not save you."

"Old saying: Don’t provoke those with no face. But how does that apply here?"

Zhang Sizuan paused, muttering to himself, his smile widening with self-deprecation.

"Perhaps in your eyes, Zhang Fengyue is already outdated, or maybe I, Zhang Sizuan, am too low-key, making it easy to provoke? All of you are shameless, aren’t you?"

His face grew fierce, pointing toward the source of the voice.

"That man who just now pretended to be humble near me—you should be the bald monk from Lanshan Temple. You can’t deny it. I’ve mastered the Six Arts best in recognizing people and holding grudges. You can’t escape."

A thunderous roar shook the sky, the wind and snow unable to withstand it.

"Everything I said earlier, I’ll tell your father word for word. Don’t worry, he won’t care about such a fool. But I warn you—those who seek to ally with the Zhang family’s Confucian scholars are many. When the time comes, I’ll bring them to Lanshan Temple, adding fire and fuel, building temples and donating money!"

As he spoke, mocking laughter erupted.

"Who gave you the right to laugh? Shut your mouth!"

Zhang Sizuan raised an eyebrow, pressing his lips, his usual self-deprecating demeanor replaced by a storm of arrogance. His voice now roared, boiling and overwhelming.

All sounds ceased abruptly, followed by a muffled groan and a severed arm falling from the clouds.

"Zhang son, your disciple’s words were impolite, violating the precept. I hope you can forgive."

"You’re the abbot of Lanshan Temple?"

Zhang Sizuan smirked coldly: "Do you think your disciples are only one-handed?"

No one answered. The cold in the air grew sharper.

A moment later, another arm, crackling with electricity, was thrown into the sky.

"Enough?"

The abbot’s voice remained calm, but its menace was palpable.

"Not enough."

Zhang Sizuan replied indifferently: "Was he speaking with his hands?"

A head, filled with terror, was hurled from above, smashing into the rock with a splash of white blood.

"Enough?"

The abbot’s voice rose. Zhang Sizuan remained unmoved.

"Not enough! Using such trivial things to bargain with me? It’s not that simple!"

Zhang Sizuan growled: "Extract his wisdom root today. Otherwise, I’ll have Six Tao’s soldiers constantly bombing your temple. See if your morning and evening bells can withstand their self-destruction!"

"Zhang son, be merciful. Don’t be too harsh."

"Last time, you didn’t show mercy. I’m teaching you: Don’t impose what you don’t want on others. Do you understand? If not, I’ll explain. Since no one wants to give the other side an advantage, then no one should. Who has the bigger fist has the right to speak!"

Zhang Sizuan spoke slowly, each word deliberate: "I ask you one last time—will you extract the wisdom root or not?"

Bang!

A cascade of white blood rained down, mingled with flesh and weapon fragments, falling in pieces.

Lanshan Abbot hadn’t extracted the root, but the blood rain itself seemed to convey defeat and humiliation.

"Next time, if you want to test someone, do it yourself. Don’t send your subordinates as pawns. Lanshan Abbot."

Zhang Sizuan looked up, mocking: "I heard your father mentioned you—he said you’re shallow in Buddhist knowledge but greedy, full of empty talk, yet constantly seeking money. Even in places like the Wa region, you’d try to exploit. If not for Su’s intervention, you’d have been beaten here long ago!"

Boom!

A thunderclap lit the clouds, revealing a colossal, terrifying Buddha figure seated in meditation.

"What do you want? How do you want it? Come down, and we’ll fight."

Zhang Sizuan pulled out a strange, oddly shaped long bow from nowhere, undeterred by the oppressive pressure above.

What is arrogance and tyranny? This is arrogance and tyranny incarnate!

Zhang Fengyue, the only son of Zhang Fengyue, the chief of the Northward Gate of the Ming Imperial Academy, today demonstrated these four words with unparalleled vigor and flourish.

"I, your lord, speak gently and modestly, bowing low to pave a path for my sister and me to ascend the mountain and meet Lin Jiapo. Just such a small request, yet you find every pretext to torment us. You all sit aloft with airs, as if you were celestial gods floating in the sky!"

At this moment, a gentle voice echoed: "Mr. Zhang, Sanyan Temple is destined for destruction. What need have you to trouble yourself with action?"

"Enemies in weakened state—why not strike a blow and cast them into the ditch? How else could one avenge past grievances with dignity?"

Zhang Minsource's eyes rolled sharply: "Moreover, when speaking to others, one must first present oneself. Do you understand propriety?"

"Indeed, it is fitting for the son of the Grand Secretary to charge into danger with such bearing. I am Zhang Chongcheng of Dragon Tiger Mountain—truly impressive!"

A figure flickered in the mist: "Zhang Lord, is it really the returned 'Master Zhang'?"

Zhang Minsource's voice dripped with mockery: "If not, why would you have the audacity to come strolling here for a spectacle? Alas, how many secrets must one swallow to reclaim such swift authority? It's truly unfortunate that the masters of Guoshan and Tiandao perished so unjustly."

What was meant to be a shocking secret became, in Zhang Minsource's mouth, the trivial gossip of street vendors.

"To be honest, I must admit, I deeply admire his resilience in enduring humiliation and biding his time. For years he hid within his son's body, letting his own ancestral temple nearly be seized by others. This patience in turning the other cheek, this silent fury—his son cannot match him. Admirable!"

"These words of yours, I shall report faithfully to Master Zhang."

Zhang Chongcheng's face twisted in anger and laughter, his words laced with threats.

"Then go report them. As for now, please step aside."

After venting his frustration, Zhang Minsource steadied himself, gazing at the dark sky with solemn gravity: "Everyone, these final remarks. If you still refuse to yield, we shall turn back at once—no ambiguity!"

"Today you grant us passage, and I, Zhang Minsource, record your kindness. Should my father plot against you in the future, I may find a way to spare your lives, lest your entire bloodline perish."

"If you believe the New Confucian faction has no one here, it proves my father's leniency. I am but donning my family name to display false valor. Today, with numbers on your side, we dare not provoke. Yet fortune turns; tomorrow may bring new circumstances. I shall reciprocate with interest. To speak bluntly, among the myriad sects, the Confucian order has never feared anyone!"

The resounding words spread across the mountain slope, no longer dissipating like before, but swelling like rolling thunder, echoing endlessly.

The silently marching Yuan Mingfei halted, turning to glance at Zhang Minsource, her eyes brimming with inscrutable complexity.

Indeed, Li Jun's debt was trivial, unworthy of such sacrifice.

Yet Zhang Minsource's actions now bound the Zhang family—and even the Confucian order—as his shield.

"Since none speak, I assume your consent. Thank you."

Zhang Minsource flicked his chin dismissively, strode to Yuan Mingfei's rear, and winked.

"Mingfei, seize this moment to flee."

"Honestly, you need not go this far. Your effort to bring me here is already a debt repaid." Yuan Mingfei whispered.

"To be frank, I wasn't prepared for such recklessness. My daily restraints burst forth in one wild outburst—I finally relished the license of a spoiled heir, committing acts to defy authority. I was intoxicated by the moment."

Zhang Minsource forced a laugh: "But now that I've let it all out, if I retreat, won't they mock us? Better to send the Buddha to the West, no?"

Yuan Mingfei studied him a long while, then nodded lightly, continuing upward.

Soft words provoke stern responses.

Scolding and rolling in tears earns three bows.

After Zhang Minsource's tirade, they climbed in silence until reaching the summit of Sanyan Shenshan.

Here, no lofty peaks—only a smooth, expansive platform.

The famed Sanyan Temple, one of the three great temples overlooking the vast territory, proved unexpectedly a humble, frugal red-walled shrine.

No one in sight, an eerie solitude.

Only a tall bronze incense burner rotated by the gale, and a copper bell beneath the eaves chimed faintly, barely responding to its rhythm.

"Let us stop here. Any further, and it becomes inappropriate for your station."

The path ended, Yuan Mingfei blocked Zhang Minsource's advance.

Zhang Minsource opened his mouth to speak, but seeing her resolve, he sighed.

"Mingfei, be cautious."

"Take heart, I come to rescue, not to die."

Yuan Mingfei smiled and strode toward the temple glowing with blazing fire.

"Mingfei."

A call echoed behind him.

Zhang Minsource scratched his head: "I've something to say I've held all this way—you and Li Jun—are they..."

"Why must it be love?" she replied without turning. "Benevolence and righteousness suffice."

Zhang Minsource stared at her back, speechless.

After long silence, he gazed toward the ceaseless cloud sea, where vast, ghostly forms loomed indistinctly.

Wolf packs circled, danger lurked.

"Brother, I've shown enough loyalty. But if you can't arrive soon, how else can I hold off these foes?"

Zhang Minsource's smile was bitter: "Even if I were not merely a son—but even if I were his own father, it would not suffice!"