The Monk's Three Treasures: Invincible Body, Sacred Robe, and Taunting Words (Part One)

At the gates of Shaolin, the battle raged on.

The 108 Warrior Monk Formation unfurled in full, with over a hundred Shaolin monks brandishing their Demon-Subduing Staffs, launching coordinated attacks and defenses. The formation, renowned in the martial world, had earned its fame for good reason. While none of these monks were true masters—their skills honed for a mere ten to fifteen years at best—when united, their combined force was nothing short of impressive.

Offense and defense melded as one; a hundred hearts beating in sync—truly extraordinary. Shaolin kung fu is all about solid fundamentals and hard-hitting moves, perfect for battle formations. Every monk had a solid foundation in external martial arts and considerable strength, making them ideal for this staff-based tactic.

Logically, No One Under Heaven should be at a disadvantage here. Hannah Frost and Phoebe Phoenix might be powerful, but not quite strong enough to steamroll the opposition. Twenty against a hundred—drag the fight out, and our side loses.

But with Lady Simone stepping in, everything changed.

If the Warrior Monk Formation could truly merge a hundred into one, confident that no matter the attack, their unity would see them through, then Lady Simone's Sound Skill was its perfect counter. Only area-of-effect attacks like sonic or poison clouds can't be mitigated by teammates sharing the pain.

Shaolin’s ancient halls are filled with countless bronze bells—morning drums and evening bells, all very solemn. But in Lady Simone’s hands, they became her deadliest weapons. Her fingers danced, not on a zither, but on the bells themselves. The melody was subtle, but the cacophony of bell strikes was overwhelming, like a mega percussion band going wild. The magic of her Sound Skill was cranked up to eleven.

In just moments, the monks felt dizzy and lightheaded, their legs wobbly, their arms weak.

Normally, such a savage area attack would cause friendly fire too. Everyone’s got ears—who wouldn’t be rattled by that wall of sound? Yet, all the girls on our side, including Grace Kwok, seemed totally unfazed.

If timing weren’t so dire, the Kunlun Three Saints watching from the sidelines would’ve dropped to their knees in awe, then rushed over to kiss Simone’s feet.

To them, this veiled woman’s Sound Skill was simply jaw-dropping. Never in their wildest dreams had they imagined music could be weaponized like this. (They’re from the Western Regions, so they don’t know Huang Yaoshi.)

Lady Simone’s trick was both simple and sophisticated: she’d added 'targeted recognition' to the bell strikes. Sounds fancy, but really, the bells just registered as loud noise to women and children. To men, though, it was something else entirely.

Don’t forget, she’s a total pro. The nickname 'Simone' isn’t for nothing.

"Heavenly—Heavenly Demon Illusion!" cried a monk, who’d just been kicked three meters by Hannah Frost. Covered in dust, he staggered up, eyes wild and entranced.

As the thunderous bells crashed together in his ears, he started seeing strange visions. Endless golden Buddhist light, the bliss of Spirit Mountain, the far-off West. And swirling around him—countless flying devas, enchanting maidens, and radiant consorts.

Those flying devas, maidens, and consorts batted their eyes, played their instruments, and serenaded him in threads of melody—leaving him blushing and flustered. His vitality and blood, meant for battle, now trickled somewhere far less holy, leaving him ashamed, scared, and helplessly entranced.

Bell music is supposed to be solemn, almost sacred—a religious experience. But Simone’s bell symphony mixed holiness with temptation and hormones, making it doubly potent. This Sound Skill targeted men specifically; true masters might resist, but the Warrior Monks—whose job is basically group brawling—were toast.

"Damn it! What kind of demoness is this?" one of the eighteen senior monks shouted, equal parts shocked and furious at Simone. Her solo performance was about to shake all of Shaolin apart. No way could they let her keep going—they had to break her spell!

"Hss—" The old monk took a deep breath, his chest and belly swelling. Fifty years of cultivation gathered at his throat, ready to burst forth in a furious roar—Lion’s...

Thud! Before he could finish, a fist slammed into his gut, sending him spinning through the air.

Boom! To Jill, it sounded like thunder exploding in her ears—her clothes whipped backward, and her hair flew wildly around her head. The Lion's Roar, one of Shaolin Temple's ultimate techniques, could shake the mind, inner energy, and body all at once with a single breath. It was like being blasted by an air cannon mixed with shockwaves, with endless chants ringing in her ears. Any martial arts master here would have their bones shattered, cough up blood, and have their dantian blown apart by this attack.

The Shaolin monks fighting outside—those loyal ones blocking the gate—were swept up by the shockwave and instantly knocked flat, seeing stars and hearing nothing but ringing. Even the booming temple bell was drowned out, completely inaudible. The Lion's Roar thundered through the mountains, sending birds flying and beasts scattering. Even that donkey left halfway by Guo Xiang was stunned yet again.

But Jill Young didn’t budge. Sure, she looked like a traveler caught in a sandstorm, arms outstretched to shield her face, but no matter how much power the eighteen monks poured in, she didn’t move an inch. The stone tiles beneath her feet cracked and splintered, showing just how much force she was absorbing—bits of Shaolin architecture were shaken loose all around. Yet Jill herself wasn’t just unharmed; she didn’t even lose a single hair.

Wait, hold on—maybe she did lose something.

Her black hair—why were there streaks of white showing through?

Even the breath in their chests had its limits—the terrifying Lion's Roar faded as quickly as it came. The roaring wind, the shockwaves, the deafening noise, all slowly died down. When the dust settled, the monks saw the ground where the sonic blast had passed was cracked in jagged patterns. No question, this Lion's Roar was a showstopper.

But right at the intersection of those six blast lines, Jill Young stood there, her hair now streaked black and white, falling back into place—completely unharmed.

The eighteen monks were dumbstruck.

"So that's the Lion's Roar? Impressive—my whole body’s tingling." She lowered her hands, shook out her arms, her eyes blazing with excitement and genuine admiration. "That’s some serious sound technique. One shout and you shatter the place! Way more intense than those cheesy radio dramas."

"How is this even possible!" The eighteen monks felt their worldview shatter. Tingling all over? Our combined Lion's Roar cracked the stone tiles, and all it did to this demoness was make her tingle?

Impossible, absolutely impossible—unless she’s mastered the Diamond Indestructible Body, there’s no way!

But the Diamond Indestructible Body is a Shaolin secret, ranked with the Muscle-Tendon Changing Classic, Marrow-Washing Sutra, and Great Reversion Pill as one of Shaolin's Four Treasures. Outsiders can't possibly learn it. Could her body really be that tough on its own? Even less likely—when it comes to defensive skills, Shaolin is number one under heaven, no contest.

So: "She's just putting on a brave face! She must've hurt her inner energy! Again—this time, we'll finish her!"

As the six elders sucked in another breath, a fierce clatter erupted outside—like rain pounding on banana leaves. Amid the cries of pain, Lady Sanmiao floated in, cradling her Jiao Wei zither, her figure graceful and captivating. She radiated a kind of nerdy pride and determination.

This chapter isn't finished yet~.~ Click next page for more excitement!

"My lord." Lady Sanmiao glided to Jill’s side, her smile dazzling. "That shout was powerful, sure, but if you ask me, it wasn’t all that sophisticated."

"Oh?" Jill wasn't bothered, just curious. "You can get that explosive too?"

"My sound technique is a different style, but if you want me to break their shout, that's easy." Lady Sanmiao was brimming with confidence. "When it comes to screaming, men can't hold a candle to women."

Talk about shameless boasting!

The monks charging up couldn’t speak, but their eyes blazed with fury. They drew a deep breath, inner power flowing—Lion’s Roar, round two!

"Om—"

But before the roar fully left their mouths, Lady Sanmiao whipped off her veil, revealing a face as enchantingly wicked as a demon’s. She parted her lips, pearly teeth flashing, and unleashed a shriek straight from her throat.

She’d already mastered sound techniques, then picked up the Sound Chapter from the Lotus Treasure Mirror, and later got a masterclass in advanced sound skills from the Frost Jade Demon God. Lady Sanmiao was a natural talent, and after some study, her sound arts had leveled up big time.

Her scream was like a banshee’s wail, packed with all sorts of frequencies and melodies. To Jill, it didn’t even sound that loud, but in reality, most of the sound was tightly focused—split six ways, each blast aimed at one of the monk groups.

The monks hit by her scream instantly felt dizzy and numb, their inner energy running wild. Worse, the shriek made their ear bones and throat bones vibrate with painful resonance, wrecking their hearing and control over their voices. It was like flooring the gas pedal in a race—only to find someone had unscrewed the steering wheel.

And naturally, that means a total wreck.

"Aaaahhh!" The six monks hit first clutched their heads and howled in agony, then spat out blood and collapsed. The other twelve, caught in the backlash, fell hard and couldn’t get up again.

"Hahahahaha!" Lady Sanmiao laughed joyously—her sound arts had crushed their sound arts, and she felt completely refreshed, like she’d gained ten years of power back. The temple bell rang with her laughter, making her seem all the more unstoppable.

"Where’d the abbot go?" Jill glanced around, realizing Tianming had vanished. She hadn’t been paying attention—he must’ve slipped away. Oh well, not a big deal. Jill strode deeper into Shaolin Temple.

Smack—a hand grabbed her shoe. It was one of the fallen monks, eyes bloodshot, struggling on the ground, growling in anger: "This is a Buddhist sanctuary... No room for chaos—! Today, even if I’m smashed to pieces, I’ll—"

"Amitabha." A chant rang out, distant yet close. The sound carried a mysterious power—the temple bell, which had been clanging nonstop, suddenly fell silent. Lady Sanmiao’s face changed; she didn’t know the meaning of the chant (Buddhism from another world wasn’t influential here), but she could tell the speaker was seriously powerful, especially in sound arts.

With a single Buddhist chant, the whole scene was brought to heel.

"There is no peace in the Three Realms, like a house on fire. Suffering fills the world, and it is truly terrifying. Birth, old age, sickness, and death—these flames burn on, never ceasing." As these familiar Buddhist verses were recited, a monk walked out from deep within Shaolin. He seemed slow but covered ground quickly, and in a blink, he was standing before everyone.

He was a gaunt old monk, face etched with sorrow, dressed in simple robes. He pressed his palms together toward Jill Young and said, "Lady benefactor, this humble monk thanks you for showing mercy and not taking any lives."

"Oh, so there’s someone here who can see straight." Jill’s eyes sparkled as she sized up the skinny old monk—her gut told her he wasn’t simple. "Since you’re sharp, hand over the kid you snatched. And apologize to my sister, and we’ll call it even."

"Hahaha, well said, well said! You’re a funny little lass." A big, jolly monk appeared on a nearby rooftop, laughing like the Maitreya Buddha. He wore his robes loose and lounged there, watching the scene. "But the Buddha saves those with fate. Quitting halfway wouldn’t be right."

On the other side, beneath the eaves, another monk appeared—tall and imposing, with lion-like eyebrows and a perpetual scowl, the very picture of Vajra’s wrath. He wore a bright red kasaya, the most formal attire, and spoke in the harshest tone, glaring at Lady Sanmiao: "A demoness like you—destroy evil, become Buddha! Today, this old monk will take you down!"

These three monks, drawn with extra detail, were all top-tier masters.