Outside the temple, the monks were in the middle of punishing Jingkong—the one who had tried to stop Qi Yuan from entering earlier.
Jingkong was curled on the ground, arms wrapped over his head to protect his vital parts, shouting “Senior brother!” again and again as he crawled to his knees, begging for mercy.
But just as he got up, another monk kicked him down again and sneered coldly, “I knew it—was wondering why fewer and fewer young women have been coming to the temple lately. So it turns out we’ve got a rat in our own ranks!”
Jingkong had been beaten black and blue—his nose and mouth were bleeding, but he didn’t dare wipe them. His eyes were so swollen he could barely open them. He began kowtowing repeatedly: “This disciple was wrong, I was wrong! I’ll never do it again! I beg you, senior brother, please spare me!”
“Spare you?!” the monk in the lead yanked a bundle of incense sticks from the burner nearby and, without warning, pressed them upside-down onto Jingkong’s head.
Jingkong let out a blood-curdling scream, writhing and wailing in agony on the ground.
The monks burst into laughter.
The one who burned him clicked his tongue, “Come on, we all know Master always keeps the prettiest girls for the Ancestor up above. And the one who came tonight? Stunning. A face you see maybe once in decades. And you tried to let her go?”
Someone else jeered maliciously, “Probably spent too many years playing monk and started thinking he was one for real! Hahahahaha!”
They weren’t monks—not really.
Before Cishan “ordained,” he was nothing but a thug in his hometown. He and his crew roamed the village like dogs, and once, when he raped a married woman and got caught, he murdered both her and her husband.
The authorities put out a warrant for his arrest.
He fled with his gang, hoping to seek refuge with his uncle—only to find out that his uncle had already become someone important.
But the case had stirred public outrage, and the local prefect was under pressure to see it through. At the same time, Xiao Yunting had just returned to the capital and was in Emperor Yongchang’s favor, and Pu Wuyong didn’t want to risk drawing Xiao Yunting’s or the Eastern Palace’s attention.
So he came up with a plan—made Cishan become a monk, and planted him at Wanan Temple as abbot.
But they were never truly monks.
Men who’d lived a life of drinking, gambling, and whoring—how could they possibly endure the life of ascetic monks and temple bells?
And so, the temple gradually became something else entirely.
It turned into Cishan’s private harem.
And since he was a “monk,” and under the guise of “blessings for children,” most of the women didn’t dare speak out.
And even if they did—who would believe them?
Anyone who tried to report them—so what? He had his uncle behind him.
Cishan, for all his perversion, was very “filial.” Whenever he found someone really good, he wouldn’t touch them himself first—he’d send them as a tribute to his uncle.
Even though his uncle was a eunuch—he still liked beautiful women.
He had several private residences outside the palace, all hiding women.
All these “disciples” of his were perfectly aware of this. Right now, they were just venting their rage on Jingkong for refusing to go along with the filth.
Jingkong had been beaten to the point of delirium. He had been bullied before at the temple, but never this viciously—so much so that he thought he was hallucinating.
Because the girl who had just been tricked into Cishan’s guest courtyard—was now back.
She was right behind the monks, coldly watching them.
Jingkong’s head lolled as he tried to warn her to run—
But before he could say anything, the girl moved.
She, too, grabbed a fistful of burning incense sticks, seized one monk by the collar, and plunged the glowing ends straight into his chest.
The monk let out a scream so sharp it split the night sky.
On this quiet mountain, the scream sounded like it could tear through the heavens.
The other monks were completely stunned by the sudden attack. When they saw Qi Yuan, it was as if they’d seen a ghost.
A ghost?! How was this young lady still alive?
How had Cishan not already taken her?!
They didn’t have time to figure out what was going on—because Qi Yuan had already drawn the flexible sword at her waist.
Her martial arts, used on scum like this, were complete overkill. But in the time it took for a single stick of incense to burn, over a dozen monks were cleanly and utterly killed.
Jingkong was stunned.
He curled up on the ground, trembling, and reached out in panic to shield himself. “No, no—don’t kill me! Please don’t kill me!”
Qi Yuan simply sheathed her sword and asked in a low voice, “Can you get up by yourself?”
Only then did Jingkong realize—she didn’t plan to kill him.
He braced himself and managed a reply, slowly dragging himself up from the ground, looking at Qi Yuan.
His lips moved like he wanted to say something, but he held back.
Qi Yuan asked him bluntly, “You know where the girls are being held, right?”
Tears nearly burst from Jingkong’s eyes—so this was why she had come. She came to save them.
He quickly nodded. “I know. They’re all in the back mountain!”
He immediately led Qi Yuan that way.
There were two monks guarding the area.
Qi Yuan took care of them without breaking a sweat—she barely had to exert herself.
Jingkong trembled all over just watching.
The cave in the back mountain went down a flight of more than twenty steps. Below were several massive cages—inside, the girls were locked up.
The moment they heard the noise, they all began to scream and cry, trembling like fallen leaves in the autumn wind.
Qi Yuan closed her eyes briefly.
Until she heard someone call her name.
“Miss! Miss!” It was Lihua.
Qi Yuan’s eyes flew open and locked onto her.
Lihua burst into tears. “Miss, I knew it—I just knew it! No matter where I ended up, you’d come for me! I knew you would!”
Seeing that she was dirty and disheveled but still alert and fully clothed, Qi Yuan finally let out a breath.
But the moment she looked into the next cage—her expression darkened again.
She pulled off her cloak, broke the chains, and had Lihua drape the cloak over another girl to cover her up.
Only then did she turn to the girls, her voice low and steady:
“You’re free now. Do any of you have somewhere to go?”
They had been kidnapped—none of this was their fault.
Being defiled by those monks was even less so.
But in this world, not everyone would see it that way. There were more who placed cruel and rigid standards on women.
Some of the girls said they wanted to go home.
Some didn’t know where to go and could only cry in silence.
Qi Yuan lowered her gaze, thought for a moment, and said:
“If you want to go home, then go. But for those who don’t have a home to return to—would you be willing to go to Huizhou?”
Huizhou?!
The girls looked up at her in unison, eyes full of light.
They didn’t know who Qi Yuan was, but that didn’t matter.
She had come to save them—that alone was enough for their trust.
Qi Yuan said in a firm voice: “Huizhou is a place where women can register their own households. If you’re willing to go, I’ll have this young monk Jingkong, and someone else he appoints, take you there and help you settle down. There’s a seaport, and women can buy weaving looms, spin and weave cloth, or work in the mills.”
At last, a path to survival.
