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Home > The Monk That Wanted To Renounce Asceticism

1081 Treatmen

 However, the Eight-armed God didn't stop his attacks. Instead, he lowered his head, meeting Xiaoxun's fingers with his forehead! Although Xiaoxun's fingers contained an immense force, this was reality, not a fantasy novel. How could the hardness of fingers win in a collision with the frontal bone of the skull?

It was already too late for Xiaoxun to try changing her aim. She never expected that she and her grandfather combined would be defeated the moment they clashed! Once her grandfather was defeated, how would she be able to fend off the Eight-armed God? She was doomed!

Yet, at that moment, Xiaoxun saw a divine halo light up behind the Eight-armed God! Xiaoxun's heart palpitated. Could this be the legendary godly halo?

However, when she carefully looked at it, her face blackened. It was the reflection of a bald head!

"This fellow? Your courage is commendable, but what can an ordinary person like you do? You will probably be knocked out in one punch." Xiaoxun reeled in despair.

At that moment, a Buddhist proclamation sounded. "Amitabha. Patron, the stewardess has gone over already. Don't be a busybody and crowd around. Take a seat..."

As he spoke, the monk reached out his hands towards the Eight-armed God's shoulders.

Xiaoxun hurriedly cried out. "Be careful!"

To touch a warrior at such a time? Regardless if you had any malefic intentions or not, the warrior would definitely treat it as if you did. And the outcome would be... Thank your lucky stars if you aren't beaten to death!

Indeed, the Eight-armed God's brows trembled as he quickly struck backwards with his left elbow, straight for the monk's throat! How much strength did a martial master like him have? His strike to one's weak throat would instantly kill even a martial arts expert!

Xiaoxun could already imagine the monk's death.

But all she saw was the monk suddenly pressing down with his hands, perfectly blocking the elbow before he used the momentum to push forward! Xiaoxun was alarmed to see the powerful Eight-armed God's elbow ripple when pushed by the monk. He clearly received a blow with a force numbering in the hundreds of pounds!

The Eight-armed God was alarmed as well. He had been trained in Muay Thai his entire life. In terms of strength, he believed that no one could easily parry a strike he delivered with his full strength. Furthermore, this monk was obviously not someone who practiced martial arts! And even if he did, how old was he? Even if he had started training in his mother's womb, how long could his training have been?

But the fact of the matter was that his elbow came to a violent halt as his arm was thrown back in an irrefutable manner.

With a gentle press from the monk, the Eight-armed God felt as though his bones were about to break. His left arm was rippling so much that it was almost becoming mush. If he hadn't practiced jiu jitsu all these years, his arm would have been broken already. But even if it hadn't yet, the pain brought him to the brink of tears.

The monk pressed him down with his arm, locking his shoulders, and chuckled. "Don't give the stewardesses more trouble. Take a seat."

As this was said, the Eight-armed God felt as though a truck had fallen over his head. He couldn't help but sit down. Following that, he heard a buckling sound. The friendly monk had helped him fasten his seatbelt and was now smiling at him. "Patron Stewardess previously recommended we keep our seatbelts fastened during the entire flight. This Penniless Monk will help you. Just sit still and don't move about." Then, the monk stroked his head and said, "Good boy."

The Eight-armed God suddenly had the urge to cry! Who was he? A former martial arts king in Southeast Asia! Yet now, he was subdued by a random monk and had his head stroked by him. He was even called a good boy!

Good boy, my a**! The Eight-armed God yearned to resist, but the moment he recalled the monk's insurmountable strength, he cowered in fear.

The fight had happened in a split second, and everyone's attention had been on the person behind who was feigning sickness. Hence, by the time people realized something wasn't right on Fangzheng's side and looked over, the Eight-armed God was already sitting down because of Fangzheng.

Xiaoxun's grandfather straightened his back and looked at Fangzheng with a look of shock.

Xiaoxun was completely dumbfounded. She kept rubbing her face before pinching herself. Grimacing in pain, she looked at Fangzheng like he was a monster.

"Old Sir, you are quite healthy for your age. However, it's best not to perform such actions of high-difficulty on a plane. Sit well and fasten your seatbelt." The monk grinned at the elder.

The elder subconsciously nodded, sat down, and fastened his seatbelt.

"What about me?" Xiaoxun immediately felt aggrieved as though she had been forgotten when Fangzheng ignored her. Was her presence that lacking? And so, she inquired unhappily.

Fangzheng looked at the man tumbling around a distance away. "Go help him."

"Help him? Are you mistaken? I can beat up people, and I can help if they are suffering from some superficial wounds, but things like this... I really have no idea how to help." Xiaoxun looked bitterly at Fangzheng. In martial arts, the accomplished were the masters. People with strength were naturally worthy of respect. Xiaoxun, who had been indoctrinated in such a manner and wholly believed in it, was utterly convinced of Fangzheng's strength. She naturally didn't make things difficult for Fangzheng anymore.

Fangzheng seriously nodded. "That's right. Go help him."

"How?" Xiaoxun asked.

"Just kick him with all your might."

"Ah." Xiaoxun was dumbfounded.

Xiaoxun's grandfather brightened up. "Xiaoxun, listen to Master. Kick him!"

Xiaoxun jolted to her senses and looked at the furious Eight-armed God before looking back at Fangzheng and her grandfather. She was immediately enlightened as she stretched her feet and grunted. "I might not be the old one's match, but I can easily deal with the young one!"

With that said, Xiaoxun walked off.

The stewardess was busy checking on the man when Xiaoxun suddenly rushed over. She yelled, "I'm here to provide treatment!"

At the same time, Fangzheng pressed his palms together and silently chanted. "Amitabha."

"Ouch!" A tragic cry sounded before there were quarreling sounds. Following that, there was a doubtful voice from a stewardess.

"Sir, isn't your stomach hurting?"

"Uh, I... feel good suddenly." The person was dumbfounded before realizing what was happening. He was supposed to be acting ill, so he was immediately placed in an awkward situation.

"Look, I said I was here to treat him. But you didn't believe me. See? Isn't he well now? Alright, don't look at me or kneel down. I don't like to be thanked for doing good deeds." With that said, Xiaoxun threw her plait at them and walked off.

The man looked at her with a dark cloud hanging over him. Without the Eight-armed God's directions, he was at a loss what to do. So all he could do when he saw the Eight-armed God being suppressed by Fangzheng was return to his seat and pretend as though nothing had happened.

When Xiaoxun came in front of Fangzheng, she gave him a thumbs up. "Awesome!"

Fangzheng smiled without a word.

Seeing that all was well and it was a false alarm, the stewardesses left and went back to their own stations.

"Monk, how dare you spoil my plans? This isn't the end of it!" The Eight-armed God glared at Fangzheng angrily.

Fangzheng shrugged. "Alright."

"Do you know who I am?" The Eight-armed God leaned over and said with a ferocious look.

Fangzheng glanced at him. "A lost lamb pretending to be a starving wolf."