Chapter 44: Entering the Arena-Imperial Enforcers of the Eight-Hour Workday(Lay's Potato Chips, Cucumber Flavor)

Li Miao paid no heed to the gazes of the martial artists around him. Unfazed, he lifted Master Wu’s head and slammed it back down into the ground.

Thud!

He held back his strength, making sure not to actually kill the man. Yet even a mere ten percent of his power was far more than a second-rate scoundrel could possibly endure.

Twenty-seven phrases spoken aloud, twenty-seven phrases recited in his mind—which meant Master Wu owed a total of fifty-four kowtows.

Heaven be witness, the fellow had likely never bowed his head this many times to his own biological father in his entire life.

By the fifth kowtow, the bewildered Master Wu finally snapped back to his senses, mustering his remaining strength to hurl insults at Li Miao.

Yet the moment he opened his mouth, his entire face was shoved straight back into the dirt, reducing his furious protests to muffled, inaudible whimpers.

By the twentieth kowtow, Master Wu had already begun begging for mercy.

By the fortieth kowtow, Master Wu had completely passed out, his head and face slick with blood.

Li Miao showed no intention of stopping, still firmly gripping the back of Master Wu’s neck and battering him against the stone ground.

By this point, neither the disciples of the Sword-Washing Sect, nor Master Wu’s own subordinates, nor the surrounding onlookers from the martial arts underworld dared to make a sound.

The person who had earlier stepped forward to mediate was now dripping with sweat, his legs trembling so violently that he was on the verge of fleeing.

"Fifty-four."

Thud!

Finally, Li Miao halted. He hauled Master Wu up by the collar and tossed him aside onto the ground as casually as one would discard a torn sack.

Then, acting as if nothing at all had happened, he smiled at the leading young man.

"There, you don't need to leave anymore."

Immediately afterward, he swept his gaze casually—or perhaps intentionally—across the surrounding crowd.

Swish—

In an instant, the gathered martial artists began backing away in droves.

Those who were trapped too deep in the crowd to slip away panicked in desperation. Struck by a sudden flash of inspiration, they abruptly whipped their heads around to stare at their neighbors.

"Ah, Brother Li! It has been many years since we last met!"

The person addressed froze for a fraction of a second before instantly catching on.

"Ah? Oh! Brother Wang, Brother Wang, what a coincidence!"

Two complete strangers began chatting with enthusiastic warmth, forcefully turning their faces away to evade Li Miao’s line of sight.

"Well, that should do."

Li Miao smiled.

To be frank, a lowlife like Master Wu was truly beneath his dignity to bully.

Given his usual temperament, a casual flick of his Profound Heaven Finger would have ended the man's life cleanly.

Had they been in the Capital Prefecture, he would have sat leisurely sipping a cup of hot tea while watching Wang Hai handle the wretch's agonizing screams, casually munching on dried fruits and candied treats. When it was all over, he would have stood up, draped his outer robe over his shoulders, tossed a few silver taels onto the body to pay for medical treatment, and walked away.

The only reason he went through all this trouble was to ensure that every single person here burned his face into their memory.

Relying solely on these few members of the Sword-Washing Sect was not quite enough weight to prove that he had only arrived at Mount Shaolin today.

Yet after this spectacle, the hundreds of people present would surely remember his face. If the imperial court ever grew suspicious in the future, all of these people would serve as his living witnesses.

Seeing Li Miao smile at him with such amiable warmth, the leading young man felt a chill run straight down his spine.

Heaven have mercy, where on earth had this peerless fiend crawled out from? There was no figure named Li Miao known in the martial underworld! How on earth did he manage to cross paths with him?

One had to remember, this was the mountain gate of Shaolin!

Thrown completely off balance, he stammered nervously, "Eld-Elder Brother Li, I..."

Li Miao chuckled softly. "Do not be nervous."

"This was merely a small lesson to teach him to be a bit more cautious when walking the rivers and lakes in the future. A mere half-year recuperating in bed and he will be right as rain."

"If he behaved like this every day, he would inevitably lose his life sooner or later. In a way, I am doing him a favor."

"Ah? Oh, yes, yes..."

Having descended the mountain for the very first time, where had the leading young man ever encountered such tyrannical logic as "I am beating you for your own good"? For a moment, he felt deeply that something was terribly wrong, yet he lacked the courage to voice any objection.

Just as he was caught in a agonizing dilemma, with the surrounding martial artists feeling as though needles were pricking their backs and the atmosphere freezing over, a heavy grinding sound echoed.

Creak-rattle-rattle—

The mountain gates of the Shaolin Temple finally opened slowly.

A monk stepped out from beyond the thresholds, bringing his palms together in a Buddhist salute to the crowd.

"You have kept these benefactors waiting."

He raised his head, preparing to deliver the customary polite greetings, but froze mid-sentence.

Lying on the ground was a man covered in blood from head to toe, surrounded by a group of people shouting frantically, "Master! Master!" The surrounding martial artists were all intently studying the sky, the ground, or the trees—anyone and anything except that particular direction.

His lips twitched slightly, entirely at a loss for words.

Fortunately, someone else was far more impatient than he.

A martial artist stepped briskly forward and declared, "Greetings, Master! Let us hurry inside!"

Without waiting for a reply, he bolted through the gates as if fleeing for his life.

The rest of the crowd surged forward in a chaotic wave, seized by the exact same urge to escape.

Occupied with receiving the guests, the monk pushed the bizarre scene he had just witnessed to the back of his mind.

Within moments, the open space outside the mountain gate was left with only Li Miao, Yin Minjun, the contingent from the Sword-Washing Sect, and Master Wu's retinue.

"Let's go, everyone has already gone in."

Li Miao called out casually and strolled toward the entrance, with Yin Minjun naturally following closely behind.

The members of the Sword-Washing Sect exchanged glances and had no choice but to trail after him.

Left behind, Master Wu's faction remained rooted to the spot, shouting wildly and panicking in absolute disarray.

"This benefactor, may I ask which sect you hail from?"

The welcoming monk inquired.

"The Sword-Washing Sect."

Li Miao answered offhandedly.

"Oh heavens, we are doomed!" the leading young man thought in sheer horror.

What if this lunatic was using the name of the Sword-Washing Sect to stir up trouble at Shaolin!

He was genuinely grateful to Li Miao for standing up for them earlier. However, the methods used were far too extreme, bearing no resemblance to the conduct of a righteous sect. Coupled with the fact that his sect's reputation was on the line, he did not dare to gamble.

Therefore, standing just behind Li Miao, he began making frantic faces and frantic hand gestures at the welcoming monk, desperately trying to convey a warning.

Before he could succeed, Yin Minjun stepped forward to block his line of sight, sweeping a chilling gaze across him that instantly rendered him mute with fright.

"Benefactors of the Sword-Washing Sect, please follow me."

Failing to notice the young man's desperate signals, the monk nodded and led the group into the temple grounds.

Walking onward, they soon arrived at a vast plaza.

Virtually every major sect with any standing in the martial world possessed such a plaza within its grounds. Normally used by disciples for martial arts training, it served as a venue whenever major events involving the sect or the wider martial world took place.

By now, the northern side of the plaza was already packed with people—these being the major sects that had entered earlier through the side gates. Rows of chairs had been arranged along both the eastern and western sides, designated for the medium and minor factions as well as independent martial artists waiting outside.

Since ancient times, the south-to-north orientation revered the north; thus, those of highest status were seated facing south on the northern side.

Conversely, because the southern side faced northward—carrying the ominous martial taboo associated with the word "defeat"—no seating had been arranged there.

As Li Miao sauntered in with a leisurely stride, the major sects seated to the north remained unreactive, but the martial artists occupying the eastern and western sections all changed countenance simultaneously.

"How on earth did Shaolin actually let him in?!"

"What are we to do now? That Master Wu is an expert among second-rate fighters, and yet this man reduced him to such a state—surely he must be a supreme grandmaster!"

"Judging by his behavior, he is no righteous practitioner. He's bound to cause a catastrophe!"

Li Miao glanced to the left and right, then turned his steps straight toward the eastern section.

Since it was still only morning, he found the sunlight on the western side far too glaring.

Barely had he walked halfway across when someone in the eastern seating area abruptly sprang to their feet.

"Ah! I just remembered, my horoscope clashes with the east! Brother Wang, I'm going to sit on the western side!"

"I clash with it too! Exactly the same! Let's go together!"

In a flash, complete chaos erupted in the seating area.

By the time Li Miao approached, the previously packed rows of seats had emptied out by more than half.

Those who remained behind were not unwilling to leave, but simply because the seats on the western side were already entirely full.

Li Miao, accompanied by Yin Minjun and the Sword-Washing Sect, took their places in the front rows, while the surrounding people quietly shimmied their seats away from them.

Within moments, a vast, empty buffer zone had formed entirely around Li Miao.

By now, the major sects seated to the north had also noticed the commotion below and cast their gazes over, only to be struck by a sudden wave of astonishment.

"Hmm? Is that not... Elder Yin of the Mount Heng Sect?"