The Unique Guardian Beast Master in Cultivation World

The young man squatted next to a bamboo shoot that had just emerged from the ground, talking to himself as if no one else was around. Behind him, a group of young monks stared at him with bloodshot eyes, looking as menacing as demons, as though they might pounce on him at the slightest provocation.

“Should be edible.”

“I wonder what it tastes like; it should be good, I’ll try it!”

With those words, the youngster reached out and lightly touched the tip of the bamboo shoot. The shoot, which had just shown its head above the ground moments ago, sprang forth from the soil with the lad’s action, releasing a rich fragrance that rapidly filled the air.

“Demon, let go of that shoot!”

Just then, a strangled cry filled with sadness and rage sounded out. Feng Qing’an looked up, and saw a small bald-headed figure clad in the grey white robes of a monk rushing towards him, dragging a Demon Subduing Pestle almost as tall as he was, brimming with murderous intent.

“Demon? Where’s the demon?”

Feng Qing’an looked around, oblivious. Then, he noticed the young monk who had rushed at him dragging his pestle.

“Demon, do you know how long it takes for a purple-gold bamboo shoot to grow?”

“How long?”

The boy looked down at the spear-shaped tip glowing with purple light and faintly adorned with gold patterns in his hand, smelling its wonderful fragrance as he couldn’t help but take a sniff, then he took a bite of the juicy bottom in front of the young monk who was glaring at him.

“Hmm, it tastes really good. Don’t you want a bite? I can help you pick one!”

Feng Qing’an overflowed with delight from the scent of bamboo shoot in his mouth, as if he didn’t notice the monk with a Demon Subduing Pestle in his hand.

“A single purple-gold bamboo shoot takes ten years to sprout, a hundred years to grow, and a thousand years to mature. You dare to waste it like this. Aren’t you afraid of heavenly retribution?”

The reddened eyes of the young monk later turned watery, his voice choked as if he was about to cry an ocean.

“Don’t you ever read, little monk? How could eating a bamboo shoot when hungry bring down the wrath of heaven?”

Feng Qing’an bit another chunk off and chewed it slowly. A satisfied expression appeared on his face as he did so.

“If this brings down divine retribution, then there won’t be much life left in this world.”

“This is a purple-gold bamboo!”

“Shoots are meant to be eaten. It’s gone to all this trouble to taste so delicious, how can we disappoint that intention?”

Feng Qing’an stated, unashamed, despite the fact that the young monk looked ready to swing his pestle at him at any moment.

“Demon, you are deserving of a million deaths!”

The monk, upon hearing Feng Qing’an show no remorse, angrily lifted his pestle that was taller than him, and swung it directly at Feng Qing’an’s face.

“You’re being a little petty, little monk. It’s just eating a bamboo shoot. How did it become an unforgivable crime or warrant a death sentence in your mouth?”

Feng Qing’an barely glanced at the pestle coming toward him before casually swinging his hand. A strong and steady wind formed an impenetrable wall which deflected the impact of the powerful Buddhist tool.

Undeterred, he reached out his hand and gestured to the ground nearby. The soil potentially shaped itself into a large hand, and offered another fresh bamboo shoot right up to him.

“Here, try some for yourself.”

Feng Qing’an, the gracious host, with the fresh bamboo shoot just torn from the ground, directly stuffed the juicy and tender root into the monk’s mouth.

The monk, straining against the pestle resisting his wind wall, watched helplessly as Feng Qing’an pulled out another bamboo shoot. As a caretaker of the purple bamboo forest for decades, the monk tasted the purple-gold bamboo shoot for the very first time.

Gulp!

The sweet aroma compelled the young monk to take a bite without thinking. After two chews, he realized the delicious taste of the purple-gold bamboo shoot and snapped back to his senses.

“You…”

The young monk glared at Feng Qing’an while showing an expression of shame and embarrassment. He was at a loss, not knowing what to do, as he found the delicious bamboo in his mouth that was neither fit to spit out nor swallow.

“How is it? Doesn’t it taste amazing?”

Feng Qing’an asked cheerily, looking at the monk whose face was a mixture of expressions.

“Yes… No, demon, you’re tempting me to break my precepts!”

The monk instinctively nodded but then immediately burst out in anger. The Demon Subduing Pestle in his hand began to shine brightly and an image of an ancient Buddha even appeared behind him.

Despite this, he couldn’t break the wind wall that stood between him and Feng Qing’an. Even when he regretted it and tried to pull away, his pestle remained stuck within the wall, unable to move.

“Break the precepts? What precepts have I led you to break?”

Feng Qing’an asked, munching on his bamboo shoot, looking like a villain who enjoys tormenting others.

“Doesn’t taking a bite of a bamboo shoot count as killing?”

“I’m not eating out of schedule!”

The young monk, who didn’t seem too old, had tears in his clear and bright eyes, his face filled with indignation and discontent.

“Oh? Little monk, you’re keeping all Eight Precepts? Just keeping the Five Precepts isn’t tough enough for you?”

Upon hearing this, Feng Qing’an broke into laughter.

The Five Precepts are the basic precepts: not to kill, not to steal, not to commit sexual misconduct, not to tell lies, and not to drink alcohol. The Eight Precepts, however, add three more: not to use makeup, perfume, or adorn one’s body with anything that adds to its beauty, not to watch shows or performances meant for amusement, not to eat at the wrong time.

They sound fine, but even among the simplest Five Precepts, how many monks can actually abide by them? Let’s not talk about anything else, but the one about not lying – beside his eldest brother, wouldn’t most of the bald thieves be lying through their teeth?