Quinn Shepherd felt a rare sense of familiarity at seeing someone he knew. Since childhood, he'd only ever mixed with the likes of Blind Grandpa and the Cripple, learning every skill from the nine elders of Oldridge Village. He could hardly say he’d had any playmates—his early years were dull and lonely.
Even though he’d only fought Brother Brightheart once, they were the same age, so a bit of kinship was natural.
Brother Brightheart chanted a quiet Buddha’s name, suppressing a flicker of irritation, then smiled. “You beat me last time, but you might not win today. After losing to you, I reflected and fixed my flaws. How about another match?”
Quinn was surprised. “You fixed the weakness at your throat?”
Brightheart replied proudly, “Last time you struck my throat and I lost. This time, I won’t let you catch me there!”
Quinn blurted out, “Brightheart, you’re just a kid, and you’re already tinkering with the Tathagata’s Mahayana Scripture? With your current experience, you’ll only make more mistakes, more flaws! Instead of messing around, you should just ask the Tathagata to teach you... Actually, I mess with my own techniques too. My Overlord Three-Core Art is nothing like it started, so I guess I can’t blame you.”
Quinn felt a bit embarrassed. He had changed his own cultivation methods more than once—he’d fused the Overlord Three-Core Art with the Grand Fostering Heavenly Demon Sutra, finally patching up the flaw at his left shoulder.
Criticizing Brightheart for messing with his techniques was just the pot calling the kettle black. Maybe Brightheart really had fixed his throat’s weakness.
Brightheart was itching for a fight. “May I ask for your guidance, then?”
Quinn was about to reply when an elderly monk suddenly interrupted, “Disciple, mind your manners—this is Cult Master Quinn of the Cult of the Heavenly Demon!”
Brother Brightheart jumped in shock. “When did you turn into the Cult of the Heavenly Demon’s old devil?”
Quinn sighed. “It’s a long story, and not one I wanted. I was forced into the Cult Master’s seat—had no choice but to do it.”
He glanced at the monk who’d spoken—it was Old Monk Jingming, Brightheart’s master, shrewd as his name implied. Jingming had loudly announced Quinn as the Cult Master not just to warn Brightheart, but to alert every monk present.
After that shout, all the monks studying the Hundred Dragon Diagrams turned to look at Quinn, chanting Buddha’s name under their breath, barely able to suppress the urge to subdue a demon.
Brightheart hurriedly said, “Then you’d better quit right now—don’t be Cult Master, it’ll get you killed! Our temple’s full of senior monks who hate evil and love fighting demons. Every time they go out, they subdue a few devils for merit—you’ll be beaten to death! I won’t spar with you, just run down the mountain and save your life!”
Quinn shook his head. “Thanks for your concern, but I’m a guest now. Old Tathagata is my senior brother—he said I could stay at the temple. Will they still try to exorcise me?”
Brightheart hesitated. “That I can’t promise. They’ll probably debate with you first, try to talk you into reforming. If you lose, they’ll beat you to death anyway.”
Quinn was speechless—and sure enough, several monks started heading his way.
“Amitabha!”
One monk stepped forward, palms together. “Demon, do you dare debate the dharma with me?”