Monks Have Three Treasures: Golden Body, Saintly Robe, and Trash Talk

In Jin Yong's novels, there are three "bug" sects.

First, of course, is the Carefree Sect—thanks to its dazzling performance in "Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils," it sits atop the bug throne. The other two earned their legendary status over long years—not just in Jin Yong’s books, but in countless other martial arts stories as well. They’re Shaolin and the Beggar Sect.

The Beggar Sect has a massive following, but most of them are just a rabble. Whether it truly qualifies as a 'bug' is still up for debate—it’s neck and neck with Wudang for that spot. But Shaolin? That’s a bona fide, time-honored heavyweight in the martial arts world.

Shaolin, as the ancestral home of Zen, might not always have the top masters or dominate the martial arts scene like the Five Greats, but looking at all the sects, only Shaolin has the most complete system for training experts. Shaolin kung fu is all about building a solid foundation—what they call 'slow kung fu.' It’s not like the Dugu Nine Swords that relies on sudden insight. Slow kung fu has its perks: put in the work, and you’ll get the results.

And the ranks are clearly defined, with strict rules and chilly discipline inside. No matter the era, you can always pick out a few famous masters from Shaolin.

Taoists hide away; Buddhists seek tranquility. The hermits wander mountains, play in the mortal world, and aim to forget about the martial arts scene. The tranquil ones keep their hearts still, cut off distractions, and can hole up in a tiny space for ages.

So, while Taoists produce plenty of masters, it’s tough to get them organized—and they rarely stir up trouble in the martial world. Take the Three Elders of Carefree Sect: they could’ve formed an unstoppable team, but instead, each does their own thing and none of them gets along. Even their master, Carefree Child, could’ve rounded them up for a beating, but he’s off wandering who-knows-where, leaving not even a legend behind.

But when it comes to Zen Buddhism, it’s much more united. Shaolin Temple isn’t huge, but for its size, the density of masters is downright scary. And the more someone sweeps floors, cooks, chops wood, or hauls water—especially those unassuming old guys in charge of the Sutra Library—the more likely they are to be top-tier experts who’ve touched the secrets of creation. Like when Zhang Wuji ran into San Du, or Xiao Feng met the Sweeper Monk.

The three monks standing before Yang Qi aren’t on the level of the Sweeper Monk—far from it. Compared to San Du? Hard to say, since no one really knows how strong San Du is. But one thing’s for sure: these three monks are no pushovers.

One’s all smiles, one’s all misery, and one’s all rage. Yang Qi can’t quite see through their internal strength, but her gut says they’re stronger than Silver Sword King, weaker than Sha Tongtian. She figures they’ve been stuck at a bottleneck for about eighty years.

"Exorcising demons and monsters? Ha! What a joke!" Lady Simone was completely unfazed. She was riding high on momentum, feeling bored bullying rookies and itching for a real fight. This angry-eyed monk just happened to walk right into her mood—exactly what she wanted. She bowed slightly to Jill Young for instructions: "Boss, what do you think...?"

"Go on, go on," Jill Young waved her hand. "His attitude's so loud, we might as well give him a chance to show off."

"Yes, ma'am!" Lady Simone bowed her head in obedience, but when she looked up, her face was already lit up with excitement. For some reason, just seeing these bald monks made her feel out of sync—she just wanted to slap a few of them for fun. With Jill's permission, it was like letting a dog off its leash. She let out a playful laugh and dashed at the angry-eyed monk like a mirage. Her delicate hand plucked the strings of her zither, unleashing her Sound Skill, while her palm struck out with her signature palm technique.

"Bold! Today, I, the humble monk, will exorcise demons!" the angry-eyed monk bellowed, sleeves flying as his robe billowed like a battle flag—clearly, this was the legendary Saintly Robe Technique. To be fair, he didn't like Lady Simone either. If we're talking bad chemistry, Lady Simone and Buddhist monks are a match made in hell. Good thing this is a martial arts world—if it were a fantasy realm, who knows if some monk named Fahai would show up to take her down.

The Saintly Robe Technique is one of Shaolin's top-tier moves. Back in the day, Kumochi used his own unique skills to power it, chopping a huge chunk off a bronze cauldron with a single airborne palm strike. Who knows how this angry-eyed monk compares to Kumochi, but his moves definitely packed a punch. Lady Simone, who specialized in ranged attacks and negative status effects, was the perfect foil—needle versus wheat. Their battle heated up in no time.

While those two were going at it, Jill Young found herself facing off against two monks all by herself.

These two old monks, though, didn't seem in any rush to throw down. In fact, not only did they hold back, but one of them—looking especially miserable—put his palms together and said to Jill Young, "This humble monk truly doesn't wish to fight with a laywoman."

"Laywoman?" That word caught Jill Young off guard. Normally, monks call women 'female benefactor,' but 'laywoman' in Buddhist circles means a disciple who hasn't taken monastic vows but cultivates at home and has achieved a certain level—pretty high praise, actually.

"Exactly," the miserable monk nodded honestly. "Though I am far from the realm of six-sense enlightenment and haven't mastered any great supernatural powers, nor do I possess the wisdom eye, it is obvious that you, laywoman, are a true Buddhist master—awakened and flawless."

"Awakened and flawless?" Jill Young was stunned. Since when did she become a Buddhist master? Wait a minute—thinking about it, both Dragon Elephant Skill and Prajna Skill are deeply tied to Buddhism. Tantra and Zen may have split, but they're still branches of the same tree. Even Wheel Pulse Skill, though not strictly Buddhist, is often practiced by Buddhist cultivators. With all her chakras open and spiritual power flowing, she was basically 'master-level' even by Indian standards.

But I don't want to get involved with you guys.

"I've never eaten vegetarian, never chanted Buddha’s name, and your rules for ascetic living—I’ve never followed a single one. So let's drop the whole 'Master' thing, okay?"

"Haha, you’re getting caught up in appearances." Laughing Monk used his lightness skill and floated down, landing in front of Jill Young. He chuckled, "Eating vegetarian and chanting scriptures isn’t being Buddha. True Buddha is about joy, clarity, and awakening. Discipline and asceticism don’t make you Buddha either. Buddha is just cooling off when it’s hot, warming up when it’s cold. Little lady, even if you’ve never practiced a single Buddhist martial art, you’re still fated with Buddha."

"Fated with Buddha? Ha, nonsense!" Jill Young couldn’t help but laugh and shake her head. "By your logic, having a bit of enlightenment makes you Buddha. But the same goes for Dao, or even for demons. So I’m fated with Buddha, fated with Dao—I’m just swimming in fate, aren’t I?"

"Exactly! Everything in life is fate. Dao is Buddha, demons are Buddha, all living things have Buddha fate."

"Alright, alright, let’s not get lost in this endless wordplay." This whole 'A is B, B is A, A is A, B isn’t B' routine is pointless. Jill Young looked at the two monks and said, "Bottom line, this is your fault. I can see you’re both pretty reasonable, so just let the kid go. Otherwise, Shaolin’s reputation is going straight down the drain."

Misery Monk stepped forward: "Amitabha. What you say isn’t wrong, and Shaolin is indeed at fault today. But that little one—he can’t be released."

Jill Young’s eyes narrowed. "You’ve got one last chance. Give me a good reason."

So we can’t talk this out? Is it really going to come down to violence?

"Please, don’t be impatient. Let me tell you a story." Meanwhile, Lady Simone and Angry Monk were still going at it, but over here, the three of them had settled down to storytelling—talk about a mood shift. But Misery Monk’s expression was solemn: "There was once a schoolteacher who came to a mountain village and saw the people were ignorant, so he wanted to teach the children to read. He prepared all sorts of books and classics, hoping to make the village kids into polite, virtuous people. But for ten days, not a single child came to learn. He had the knowledge and the heart, but his school was empty. Do you know why?"

Asking questions and answering them yourself is a classic way to guide people—Master always used it in his hypnosis. It draws the audience into your rhythm and makes them subconsciously accept your point. But Jill Young wasn’t playing along: "You’ve got half your time left."

"Well..." Seeing Jill Young wasn’t biting at all, Misery Monk looked even more miserable, then answered himself: "It’s because the villagers were ignorant—they didn’t know the value of books. No matter how much knowledge you have, if no one comes, it’s pointless. So the teacher came up with a trick: he made sugar pills to lure the kids. He promised that anyone who came to class would get a candy. Sure enough, the kids swarmed in every day. At first, they only came for the candy, but over time, as they learned to read, they realized the value of knowledge and studied even harder. The candy had nothing to do with learning, but without it, the villagers would stay ignorant. With the candy, everyone learned. That candy was essential."

Jill Young got it. She raised her eyebrows knowingly: "So you’re saying, that kid you’re holding hostage is your candy?"

"Haha, sharp as a tack!" Laughing Monk chimed in. "Birth, aging, sickness, death, love and loss, resentment, desire—life is suffering, the sea of bitterness has no shore. Buddha saves all beings, but if people are ignorant, even the greatest ship can’t ferry them across. Toss out a little candy, and everyone comes to Buddha—that’s worth it. Old monk like me, I don’t eat candy, but it’s better to have it than not. Once people are on board, Buddha can row the boat and ferry them across the sea."

"Amitabha." Misery Monk looked steadily at Jill Young. "Do you understand our good intentions now?"

"I get it. You’re a bit more sophisticated than I expected." Compared to that Abbot Tianming from earlier, these two monks had a broader perspective. That candy story wasn’t wrong—marketing needs advertising, web novelists beg for recommendations, and even good wine needs a sign. And they weren’t lying, either. Jill Young didn’t buy the whole "monks never lie" slogan, but she could sense their sincerity.

But still—

"You guys are way too narrow-minded." Jill Young pointed at them both. "Your candy and saving all beings sounds nice, but I don’t know what’s so special about that kid. Why does he have to be your candy? Like the saying goes, you can’t force a cow to drink, you can’t drag a guy to a brothel if he doesn’t want to go—and you’re even worse, you’re forcing a girl into prostitution!"

"Well..." The two old monks knew they were in the wrong, but Laughing Monk scratched his head and said with a wry smile, "We’re just trying to save people—it’s a good thing, not forcing anyone into prostitution. Besides, that kid is deeply fated with Buddha. This is a huge opportunity for him, not a bad thing!"

"But whether he wants this opportunity, whether he wants to be your ferryman, is his own choice." Jill Young didn’t back down, her words ringing out: "You can persuade, you can advertise, you can explain your ideas—but you don’t have the right to decide for someone else. I don’t care what you believe, but you can’t force others to believe. And don’t even get me started on kidnapping the kid and dragging him up the mountain! You guys are shameless. I’ve been around the block, but snatching kids like human traffickers—I’ll beat up every one I see! Now, immediately, right now, within three seconds, bring the kid out or I won’t be polite!"

With that ultimatum, Jill Young’s aura shot up, as if a heavenly blade were awakening inside her, radiating endless sharpness.

Misery Monk and Laughing Monk exchanged a glance, both letting out a long sigh.

Misery Monk stepped forward: "Amitabha. My heart is heavy; I truly don’t want to fight you. But this matter is too important—I must offend you." Hummm—suddenly, golden light shimmered around Misery Monk’s body. His head, torso, limbs were all enveloped in a hazy golden glow. It was like a giant bell’s phantom covered him, unmoving and solid, radiating an unyielding aura.

"My Buddhist fate isn’t deep enough, so I haven’t mastered the supreme skills—just the Child’s Skill and the Golden Bell Shield. Today, I won’t fight back; if you can’t break my Golden Bell Shield, you can leave." Misery Monk looked utterly miserable, determined to be the tank. Taking the hits is his job—no wonder he looked so down.

Where there’s a tank, there’s gotta be a DPS. Laughing Monk patted his belly: "Haha, sparring is a two-way street. If you won’t hit, I will!" He raised a finger to his chest and grinned at Jill Young: "One Finger Zen—let’s see what you’ve got, little lady!"