The Secret of the Hidden Gold

I kept it, thinking it was a sign from God, showing me something the senior monks didn’t know. I had no idea that this map was the key to uncovering a treasure hidden for centuries.

Day by day, I trained in the temple, mastering animal forms. I sweated, breathless, practicing until I could barely stand. I trained like it was the only thing that mattered. No one seemed to notice anything unusual about me, other than my relentless dedication to kung fu.

I began to practice the Tiger form—a style known for its fierce claws, demanding both Yang power and speed. But I also combined it with the twisting movements of the Snake form, a Yin style that uses invisible force—so subtle that it can break a vase full of water with just a touch.

I grew stronger with every passing day, defeating the top fighters in nearby towns.

Then, one day, I overheard a man say, “If Master Yin were here, he would beat this tough guy.”

With a smile, I moved up to him. “I am Master Yin. Just watch me.”

I was up next to fight—not just one opponent, but two. I defeated them one after another, and the crowd went wild.

The whole time, I was thinking of the monk who had hidden the map behind the Buddha’s seat. The story begins with a noise in the background.

People argued over the cost of getting a shoe repaired, while others waited to purchase their items. Some were pushing others to the ground. Someone was being arrested, while someone else stole an egg right in front of the store owner, who was distracted by the arrest.

In our world, we didn’t have cell phones or a postal service. To communicate, we had to walk long distances to meet friends in the Bay Area, where people gathered to socialize.

Just the other day, Liu and I went to the market to buy fish, bread, and rice. We were low on tea—something we drank every morning. We made do with a few nuggets, just enough to buy what we needed.

Then word spread: the map of the hidden gold was stolen from the Temple.

The senior monk was placed under surveillance and forced into hard labor. I was baffled—how could someone steal the map from the well-guarded Temple?

What I didn’t know was that I was the one who had it.

How did they figure it out?

The young monk, who traveled with the senior monk, knew the steps required to reach the gold. The map’s movements aligned perfectly with the fighting forms I had been practicing. He noticed it while watching me fight. That’s when he realized I had the map. But he didn’t say anything—at least, not yet.

Now, the story truly begins.

The crazy monk, as always, ran by, shutting doors and looking around, shaking his head. A commotion broke out on the dirt road—people were fighting, and others were being arrested for being drunk. Dust filled the air.

The crazy monk, unnoticed by everyone, passed through the chaos, intent on finding out who had taken the map before stealing it for himself and fleeing the country. But he had no clue.

He lived in a filthy space no one dared enter, not even the senior monk. There, he planned and schemed to break into the 5th floor.

He had studied the monks’ schedules—their eating times, meditation periods, and shifts. He knew when to strike.

He wasn’t just “crazy”—he was a monk, and a skilled one at that.

The young monk had accidentally broken the crazy monk’s arm during a struggle when he slipped on the crazy monk’s robe. There was no fight—it was just an accident—but it left the crazy monk in excruciating pain.

Matthias, the herb doctor at the temple, took care of his arm. Matthias also oversaw meal times, making sure the grain, rice, and soup were prepared correctly—each meal designed to cleanse the body according to the weather and season.

The crazy monk’s arm was broken, and his pain was so intense that he howled in agony, a cry so loud that even the moon seemed to hear it.

The young monk had an older brother, Mr. Wong, who worked as part of the local police force. His job was to break up fights, but little did anyone know, Mr. Wong was also a member of a gang. He often broke up fights between his gang members, a secret no one suspected, not even the senior monk.

Every morning, Matthias and the monks would sweep the Temple, bringing fresh food and water inside, preparing for guests who would arrive soon. They would gather incense to pay their respects, and clothes were collected from the drying racks.

But soon, an alarm rang throughout the Temple. A red alert.

The Temple went into lockdown. Doors slammed shut, floors began collapsing, and the walls started to cave in. People ran for their lives, some crushed between walls, others falling to their deaths. It was chaos. A war within the Temple.

The stairs folded up like dominoes. The clanging of metal and the sound of screams filled the air. In the darkness, fire blazed, arrows flew, stones were thrown, and swords clashed.

Bodies lay scattered across the floors. Some fought for the gold, others for their lives. Smoke filled the air, making it impossible to see clearly. We had to fight whoever was in our way just to survive.

The teacher’s voice echoed in the chaos:

“The hidden gold is inside your heart.”

That was the secret.