Chapter 1: Eternal Vow

"Is there still an empty table?"

The waiter beamed apologetically. "I am sorry, honored customer, but there truly are no free tables left. Let me ask around and see whether you would be willing to share a table with another guest?"

"That will do."

At a table nearby, a bald giant sitting alone glanced over and his eyes lit up.

"A fine man!"

By nature he was forthright and warmhearted, fond of making friends. Seeing the man at the door, with his handsome features, long arms, narrow waist, and an air about him unlike anything he had ever seen, he was immediately delighted.

He called out at once.

"Sir, would you care to sit with me?"

Li Miao glanced over, smiled, and told the waiter to bring some tea and pastries before walking over.

The affair of the Five Mountains Sword Sect had already passed several months ago.

After that day, he had taken in the remaining four sects, and Wang Hai had led them to Shuntian Prefecture to meet Zhu Zai. Wang Hai knew how to explain matters, and Zhu Zai knew how to handle them; Li Miao need not concern himself with the aftermath.

He had not returned to Shuntian Prefecture. Instead, he had rested for a few days in the Qilu lands before setting out alone for Miao territory.

After his treatment, the gu poison within Xiao Si's body would not cause trouble for the time being. But lingering delay bred complications, and Li Miao naturally wanted to settle it as soon as possible.

Besides, Zhu Zai had given him a year to resolve the Five Mountains Sword Sect matter, yet he had finished in less than three months and even crippled the Ming Cult along the way. That was more than enough to report back.

The rest of the time could count as paid leave. Wang Hai had returned with Lan Lekuan, Yun Zelin, and a string of heads from Ming Cult protectors and banner chiefs. No matter how displeased Zhu Zai might be, he would have little to say.

It was just that Mei Qinghe had smashed Yun Zelin's head into something of a ruin, and who knew whether Zhu Zai would still be able to recognize it.

Li Miao reached the table and sat down, greeting the giant with a nod. "Greetings, Master."

The giant blinked, then let out a hearty laugh.

"You are indeed extraordinary. I am not wearing a monk's robe, and there are no ordination scars on my head, yet you are the first person to recognize me as a monk!"

"May I ask your name?"

Li Miao cupped his hands. "Li Miao. A wandering swordsman, with no master and no sect."

The giant pressed a single hand to his chest in return. "Shaolin. Yongjie. I greet you, patron."

Li Miao smiled. "Master, your monastic name is rather interesting."

"The virtues endure forever, and the wondrous body remains steadfast. Master, your seniority must be considerable."

The seniority names of Shaolin had long been fixed: seventy characters in all, passed down generation by generation. The current abbot of Shaolin belonged to the Xing generation and was already nearing a hundred years of age.

Yongjie was a generation below him. In terms of seniority, there were not many people in the martial world who could stand on equal footing with him.

Yongjie laughed uproariously. "My master's seniority is lofty, so I have the benefit of it. When I go out, everywhere I look are nieces and nephews. Everyone is polite to me, yet I can hardly make a few friends of the same generation!"

"An outstanding wanderer such as yourself is exactly the sort of person I wished to meet! Meeting is fate, so let us each drink our fill!"

With that, the monk actually poured himself a cup of wine and drained it in one gulp.

Li Miao raised a brow, finding it amusing. "So this is what broadening one's horizons means. One of the classic figures from storybooks, a wine-and-meat monk, and today I have run into one."

Li Miao had already guessed Yongjie's background from his martial arts and knew from the start that he was a Shaolin fighting monk.

Monks were supposed to keep the precepts, but sometimes they would bend them in certain respects.

The most typical example was the fighting monk.

Training in martial arts consumed a great deal of energy. Take Li Miao, for instance: when he had first entered the path, he had to eat two or three jin of meat a day. The poor studied literature, the rich practiced martial arts; without some family foundation, one could not sustain the life of martial training.

Fighting monks, however, found themselves in something of an awkward position. Martial cultivation already depleted qi and blood, and if they truly kept strict discipline and ate nothing but tofu and greens every day, no amount of food would replenish what they lost.

So fighting monks generally left themselves some room around the edges. For example, there was the concept of the "five kinds of clean meat": as long as the creature had not died in any way related to me, then eating it was acceptable.

As for the legend that Tang Emperor Taizong issued an edict allowing Shaolin's thirteen staff monks to eat meat, that may very well have been a story invented by the monks themselves in order to carve out a loophole for their own use. But Yongjie was certainly not merely sneaking a bit in private.

Li Miao glanced at the dishes on the table and saw one plate of scallion-fried lamb.

That was quite the sight.

For monks, "meat" referred to flesh, while "the pungent herbs" referred to the five plants of onion, garlic, chive, leek, and asafoetida, all of them strongly scented and thought to disturb spiritual cultivation.

This plate of scallion-fried lamb managed to occupy both forbidden categories at once.

And that was before mentioning Yongjie's little drink of wine. After finishing, he even clicked his tongue and smacked his lips to himself, every inch the drunkard.

Amused, Li Miao poured himself a cup as well and drank it down in one gulp.

"Refreshing!"

Yongjie laughed.

The two of them passed cup after cup back and forth: one was bold and unrestrained, the other seasoned by the world, and both had taken a liking to each other. Before long, they had grown quite familiar.

After a round of conversation, they discovered, to their surprise, that both of them were headed for Miao territory. It was the same road after all.

After some discussion, they decided to travel together once they had finished eating.

Just then, the dishes Li Miao had ordered were brought out.

Without Xiao Si at his side, Li Miao had gradually learned how to handle money during this period, though he still had not shaken off his habit of spending lavishly. He had ordered a great many fine dishes.

Yongjie, as a monk, did not have much money in his pocket and had never enjoyed such good things.

Li Miao invited him to eat with him. Yongjie laughed in thanks and joined him.

They ate for a while until they were full and satisfied.

After a meal, Li Miao always grew sleepy. Yongjie had more or less figured out his lazy temperament, so he did not urge him. He simply sat there while Li Miao leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed, resting, occasionally picking at a dish or two to pass the time.

By then it was already past mealtime, and most of the customers in the shop had left. The waiter was in no hurry to clear space for the two of them, and quietly tidied the table nearby.

Just as the shop gradually fell silent, Li Miao suddenly opened his eyes.

He raised a hand into a claw and snatched at the air.

"Ah--"

A waiter was plucked from the doorway and dragged through the air, flailing his limbs in panic, his face gone pale.

Li Miao set him down, patted his shoulder, and said, "All right. Go hide in the back."

"Fetch some water. Once things quiet down, come out and wash the floor."

"Y-yes... honored customer, thank you, thank you!"

The waiter hurriedly thanked Li Miao again and again before staggering toward the kitchen.

"May I ask which master has arrived?"

A shout came from outside the shop, followed by a burst of hurried footsteps as four or five men surged in from the door, armed with sabers and swords.

One of them already had his blade drawn, gripping it tightly in his hand.

It had been he who had just swung at the waiter. Had Li Miao not acted, the waiter would already have been dead by his hand.

His gaze swept across the shop. By then there were not many customers left, and he quickly locked onto Li Miao's table.

Yet he did not care about Li Miao. The moment he saw Yongjie, a look of ecstatic joy spread across his face.

"E-elder brother!"