Who exactly do you think is in charge here?

My, my parents?

Xuzhu raised his head in a daze, looking at the man sitting atop the Buddha statue.

Even though his facial appearance had just been insulted, he did not look angry at all. It was hard to tell whether he was simply too honest or inherently weak-willed.

"How boring."

Zhang Chengyi felt as if he had punched a ball of cotton. After uttering his complaint, he felt a slight pang of embarrassment, so he bypassed the topic of Xuzhu and said, "Hand over all your Shaolin Temple's martial arts manuals—the Muscle Tendon Changing Classic, the Marrow Cleansing Classic, the Seventy-Two Arts, and whatever else you have."

His purpose in coming here, aside from the six monks of the Xuan generation and the Sweeping Monk, was the vast library of ultimate martial arts belonging to Shaolin Temple.

During the period of returning to the Drifting Goose Platform from the south, apart from practicing external arts and training his actual combat capabilities under conditions of zero internal energy and low physical stats, he had constantly dispatched the Eight Freaks of Hangu Pass to scour the world for martial arts manuals.

He was not doing this for his own practice. With his aptitude, practicing them himself would only waste an unknown amount of time. With that kind of time, if he crossed over to other worlds, he might have already achieved flight and teleportation.

His main goal was to add bricks and tiles to his progress in the Martial Dao.

After all, he would eventually return to have a look in the future. Who knows, perhaps he might witness the Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils world transform from a low-martial arts world into a mid-martial arts or high-martial arts world? Or perhaps, similar to the novels of Huang Yi, once martial arts reached a certain level, one could shatter the void and journey beyond the world.

The sect-secreting ethos of guarding one's arts jealously was extremely prevalent in the pugilistic world. Gathering them at the Drifting Goose Platform might be a good thing. However, because of the collections in the Jade Grotto of Langhuan, the Drifting Goose Platform lacked very few martial arts manuals, so his quest for martial arts had not attracted the attention of the Jianghu.

The six monks of the Xuan generation were all momentarily stunned. Who on earth would openly march up to Shaolin and demand all of its martial arts manuals?

"Amitabha, does the benefactor not feel that he is being overly greedy?"

Xuandu, an eminent monk proficient in the Plucking Finger, stepped forward and said.

There was no help for it; someone had to speak up. Even if they were no match for this rebel leader, they could not simply surrender directly. The entirety of the Shaolin Temple was watching. Who could say that if they surrendered today, the imperial court's elite guards would not surround their mountain gates tomorrow?

Zhang Chengyi glanced at Xuandu and said, "Oh, I almost forgot, you few are coming with me as well."

Before his voice faded, the Buddha statue became abruptly empty. Xuanci, possessing the highest martial arts among them, was the first to react to the enemy's approach. Before he could strike, several major acupoints around his body went numb, and his physical form stiffened on the spot.

"The One-Yang Finger?!" he blurted out.

All six Xuan-generation monks had their acupoints sealed in that very instant.

Zhang Chengyi casually patted the bald head beside him, boasting as if showing off a new toy. "How is it? Got it from the Dali Tianlong Temple. Not bad, right?"

The bald head produced a series of smacking sounds as it was patted. He actually felt the texture wasn't half bad, so he patted it once more.

Xuanji, the head of the Disciplinary Hall whose head was being patted, had always possessed a peaceful temperament. Subjected to this humiliation, he merely let out a low sigh.

"Karma, retribution."

"Form the Arhat Formation!"

The Shaolin disciples, however, were filled with righteous indignation, looking as though they were about to swarm forward.

"All disciples, fall back." Although Xuanci's voice lacked the reinforcement of internal energy and was not loud, it was exceptionally effective. The monks successively halted their steps, merely surrounding the villain and the six Xuan-generation monks.

"Consider yourself sensible." Zhang Chengyi chuckled, raising a finger. Under the reinforcement of his infinite internal energy, the Six Meridians Divine Sword practically transformed into a six-barreled Gatling gun. Transparent sword Qi sprayed out in all directions. In less than a second, it poked the soaring vaulted ceiling of the Great Mahavira Hall full of dense holes resembling a hornet's nest.

Even for ordinary people, with sufficient internal energy, mobilizing it in such a manner would inevitably overwhelm their meridians. However, his physical stats were also maxed out and perfectly matched his internal energy. In a short period of time, transforming a massive amount of true Qi into projectile sword Qi at most caused a slight soreness from his elbows to his fingers, without leaving any sequelae.

To others, cultivating the Six Meridians Divine Sword was difficult, but to him, it posed zero difficulty. This was a martial art centered primarily around internal energy. As for why Tianlong Temple kept the Six Meridians Divine Sword locked away and neglected, Benyin explained it clearly in the original novel: [In this era of decline, martial arts are waning; no one can cultivate and gather such potent and profound internal energy anymore.]

The One-Yang Finger was much the same, placing higher demands on internal energy than on technique. In the hands of a cheat-user like him, he was as comfortable as a fish in water.

Silence reigned within the grand hall.

Mottled sunlight scattered across the ground, the bald heads, and the dull-faced expressions of the monks.

Such an attack could probably slaughter the hundred-odd charging monks in an instant. The crucial point was that he looked neither flushed nor out of breath. Such martial arts were truly...

"Evil fiend!"

Someone uttered in a lapse of composure, and the monks retreated by a large circle with a whoosh, the outer disciples nearly backing out of the Great Mahavira Hall entirely.

Zhang Chengyi paid no mind to the title of 'evil fiend', continuing to cheerfully pat Xuanci's head with slaps and chuckles. "Old bald donkey, you wouldn't want others to find out about you and Ye Erniang, would you?"

The remaining Xuan-generation monks were standing close and heard clearly, their gazes turning varied.

Xuanci managed to maintain his composure, his expression remaining completely unchanged as he said, "Amitabha."

"If the benefactor believes he can use this old monk's transgression to threaten Shaolin, he has thought wrong."

"No, no, no." Zhang Chengyi's smile grew even wider. "I have never liked using one person to threaten a collective. It's boring, too small-minded."

Raising his voice slightly, he declared, "Today, if Shaolin does not hand over its martial arts, tomorrow there will no longer be a Shaolin Temple in this world."

Hearing this, everyone's expression shifted.

Seeing their ugly complexions, Zhang Chengyi laughed heartily and said, "I'm just messing with you!"

"I'm not going to take your lives; it's just these clay sculptures, bricks, and tiles..." As he spoke, he flicked his finger, sending out another streak of sword Qi that sank deeply into the pedestal beside the Buddha statue, carving out a gully.

"What a pity to waste fine gold, silver, copper, and iron by making them into Buddha statues. Taking them out to relieve the poor is naturally a meritorious deed, wouldn't you say, Abbot Xuanci?"

Xuanci's expression did not look any better; in fact, it looked even uglier. Dismantling the entire Shaolin Temple was no different from erasing Shaolin from existence. Furthermore, would the opponent really let go of the martial arts manuals just because they demolished the temple?

In the end, they still had no other choice. Truly, this was their destined tribulation.

"Senior Brother," Xuanji asked in a low voice. From his perspective, martial arts manuals and the like were far less important than the disciples, and even less important than this temple.

The reason the Shaolin Temple had been able to pass down its legacy to this day did not rely on hoarding secret martial arts; otherwise, they would not have openly displayed the manuals inside the Scripture Pavilion.

The surrounding monks forming the array outside were at a loss. Inside, Xuanci, looked upon by his fellow martial brothers, let out a deep sigh and said, "Benefactor, if you want those manuals, then... then take them all."

As he finished speaking, he seemed to deflate entirely, his face instantly aging significantly. "Xuanci lacked leadership and broke the great precepts of Buddhism..." As he spoke, he attempted to rouse his internal energy to impact the true Qi sealing his meridians and acupoints in order to commit suicide. The moment he began circulating it, it damaged his lungs and viscera, and fresh blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"Old bald donkey." Zhang Chengyi grabbed him, and the internal energy he had managed to muster was instantly dissolved in the blink of an eye by the Northern Kunpeng True Qi.

"Just who do you think is in charge here?"