The Cunning Treasure Hunter

Chapter 66 the wooden fish

"Ah, that is, well..."

"You still haven't grasped the teachings of the Buddha, have you? Tsk tsk..."

Nathaniel rubbed his temples and sighed deeply.

At that moment, Ethan took the chance to lash out at Arther.

"Ha! So you called your master because you thought you'd lose!"

"That's not true!"

And in that instant, Nathaniel brought down his wooden fish mallet on Arther's crown.

It wasn't the small stick meant to strike the wooden fish. It was the wooden fish itself.

Thwaaack—!!!

The sound was as resonant and vast as the holy scriptures of Buddhism, echoing across Mount of the Moon.

That pure, resounding pain made the young monks flinch.

"How many times must I tell you not to use that ridiculous way of speaking, Arther?"

"B-but, to maintain dignity..."

"What dignity? Are you still clinging to such views?"

"I apologize..."

Arther was a talented boy. Abandoned as a baby beneath the foot of Mount Moon, he had been raised by the temple and had grown up to this point.

But that upbringing came with its own set of problems.

A child without parents.

Children can sometimes be cruel in thoughtless ways, boasting about their parents in front of Arther, knowing he had none.

Thus, Arther had grown up with a deep sense of inferiority.

A child without parents, without even the shadow of a family...

Yet Mount of the Moon, the Iron Fist Sect, had taken him in, protecting him, teaching him martial arts and Buddhist scriptures, nurturing him with care and love whenever he showed promise.

But such care began to intertwine with a sense of superiority.

A monk of the millennia-old Iron Fist Sect, the root of the world's salvation!

And among them, the young genius, the one everyone had high hopes for!

How intoxicating those words were.

Arther filled the void in his heart with that sweet superiority. His strange speech patterns in front of outsiders stemmed from that same place.

"Hurry up and apologize, Arther."

"...Sorry."

Only when he reverted to the speech of an ordinary boy did Nathaniel knock the wooden fish rhythmically again. He then glanced at Ethan and Vera with a soft smile.

"He is still a child in need of growth. Thank you for your patience, benefactors."

"...It's nothing, Nathaniel."

"If any inconvenience arises, feel free to summon me at any time. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

Nathaniel understood Arthers heart.

But what could he do?

That sense of superiority would soon corrupt Arther, filling him with darkness.

The darkness of self-entitlement.

Without another word, Nathaniel turned and departed.

But Valen, watching from afar, spoke up.

"Aren't you being too strict?"

"What do you mean, Benefactor Valen?"

"Young boys can have a competitive spirit, can they not?"

"Homage to Infinite Light..."

Nathaniel knocked the wooden fish again before responding after a moment's pause.

"Arther and Benefactor Ethan are evenly matched in skill."

"Then wouldn't pitting them against each other spur their competitive spirit and make them strive for more?"

"Now is not the time for Arther to advance further."

He glanced back.

Both Valen and Nathaniel could see the three figures—Arther, Ethan, and Vera—arguing about who was stronger, yet looking rather harmonious.

"If he wins, he will grow conceited. If he loses, he will harbor resentment."

"So it's a loss either way."

"Indeed. For Arther to overcome his barriers, he must first overcome his past..."

Other young monks joined the trio, and as sparring was forbidden, they began inventing other games.

Soon, everyone scattered, leaving only one behind, signaling the start of a game of hide-and-seek.

"Only through good friends and a calm mind can he begin to reflect upon himself."

"Truly in line with the teachings of Buddhism."

The game of hide-and-seek began, but Vera did not participate.

A single, unchanging champion becomes dull over time.

For the enthusiasts of the Martial World, such news was like a feast of the sweetest delicacies.

And what about those who had witnessed the duel firsthand?

Their tales alone could buy them meals for a month.

Vera let out a long sigh. At that moment, a door behind her burst open.

Her eyes widened.

That room belonged to Marcus.

"Senior Brother?"

"Is that you, Vera?"

"Yes, it's me. Are you alright?"

"My vision is blurry. The world appears hazy..."

In that instant, Marcus, unable to see the threshold, stumbled.

Without hesitation, Vera threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around Marcus's waist and extending one foot back to stabilize herself.

she barely managed to keep Marcus from falling.

"...I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Senior Brother..."

Grimacing, Vera helped Marcus regain his balance.

Once steady, Marcus, with a rough estimate of Vera's head position, gently patted him.

Watching the scene, Nathaniel spoke up.

"It's the lethal aura of the Instant Death Palm harming your body, Marcus Benefactor."

"Ah, so you were here. Then, must I live like this forever?"

One might expect bitterness or frustration.

But Marcus's voice held none of those emotions.

It was calm, even serene, carrying a hint of relief.

"Fortunately, no, Benefactor."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Yes. The lethal aura lingering in your body rose to your eyes, damaging them first."

The teachings of Buddhism emphasized great compassion and boundless acceptance.

Thus, such malevolent energy was in stark contrast.

Your next chapter is on empire

Even the devastating martial arts of the Bloodshadow Pavilion would leave no lasting effects on a highly skilled Iron Fist Sect monk.

"I will steadily channel the internal energy of the Transcendent Wisdom Sutra to dispel it, so you need not worry."

"I've also heard stories. Your disciple, Arther..."

"If it's Arther, the Abbot himself is tending to him. You need not be concerned, Benefactor."

The Iron Fist Sect Abbot, Grandmaster Gregory, also known as the Luminous Sage, was a monk of unparalleled compassion.

If he was overseeing Arther, no one could offer more devoted care.

Finally, Marcus let out a sigh of relief.

"Senior Brother, you should return to your room and rest."

"Don't push me, Vera."

"This time, I must disobey your orders, Senior Brother."

Despite Marcus's protests, Vera firmly grasped his sleeve and guided him back into the room.

Seeing no way to resist, Marcus followed.

Once inside, Vera pulled the blanket up to Marcus's chin before finally breathing a sigh of relief.

"Were you that worried about me?"

"Please, don't throw yourself into danger like that again, Senior Brother."

"How could I stand by while our junior sister was in peril?"

"...I don't want to lose anyone else."

Kneeling beside Marcus's bed, Vera clenched his fists.

Softly, Marcus placed his hand on Vera's head.

With a gentle voice, he dismissed him with care.

"Alright. I understand. Now go and join the others."

"...But still."

"If you don't, I'll get up and wander around again."

"...Understood."

Only then did Vera rise and leave.

Smiling faintly, Nathaniel closed the door behind him.

Now alone, Marcus clutched his chest, wracked with silent pain and unspoken screams.