Take control of Wei Zhongxian at the start and confiscate 100 million from him!

Chapter 265 Shocking! The biggest deadbeat in Jinling was actually him, and his final fate caused extreme satisfaction.

The mountain wind has stopped.

The entire Jiming Temple was completely silent.

Only the silence itself resounded with a deafening roar, pounding on everyone's eardrums and heart.

On the steps of the main hall, Abbot Liaofan stood there, like a stone statue weathered by time for thousands of years.

His monk's robes were disheveled from running around, and his once dignified face was now deathly pale, devoid of any color.

His mind went blank.

All luck, all reliance, all connections, all ties—all vanished without a trace in this darkness.

Liao Fan knew he had to do something.

He saw Zhu Youjian's gaze, a gaze like that of someone inspecting a livestock pen, slowly sweeping over the officials, gentry, and wealthy merchants who were slumped on the ground.

Liao Fan could even clearly see that when that gaze swept over the retired Vice Minister of Revenue, the Nanjing official's body convulsed like a sick chicken doused with ice water, and he collapsed completely, the last glimmer of light in his eyes dimming.

Can't wait any longer.

A survival instinct, mixed with the dignity of the abbot of the first temple in the Southern Dynasty for thirty years, squeezed out the last bit of strength from the depths of his already frozen marrow.

Liao Fan forcefully suppressed the trembling that came from his kneecaps, the urge to kneel and kowtow, and slowly clasped his hands together in front of him.

This action, which he had performed tens of thousands of times, now seemed to have exhausted all his strength.

His fingertips were as cold as a dead person's.

"Amitabha..."

A Buddhist chant escaped from his dry lips, his voice so hoarse that even he himself felt unfamiliar with it.

He took a step.

One step, two steps
Liao Fan descended the high steps, stepped down from the lotus throne that symbolized the dignity and purity of Buddhism, and walked towards the black-robed emperor who represented the highest power in the human world.

He forced himself to lift his head and look directly into those abyss-like eyes, trying to find even the slightest trace of emotion within them.

But he failed.

There was nothing in those eyes.

Finally, Liao Fan stopped five steps away from Zhu Youjian.

This distance signifies both submission and the preservation of a mere shred of dignity befitting an outsider.

Liao Fan slowly bent down, and the moon-white monk's robe that had been admired by countless people now humbly fell to the ground.

"This humble monk, Liaofan, was unaware of Your Majesty's arrival and has failed to greet you properly; I deserve to die for this sin."

Liao Fan tried his best to keep his voice steady and clear, just as composed as he had been when facing thousands of believers at sermons in the past.

He lowered his head deeply, using the most respectful posture to conceal the uncontrollable fear in his eyes.

Liao Fan still clung to that sliver of hope.

A faint, fleeting fantasy, like a candle flickering in the wind.

He thought, perhaps this was just the emperor's way of demonstrating his power.

After all, Jiming Temple has enjoyed a distinguished reputation for over a century.

If you handle the situation appropriately and adopt a humble attitude, there may still be room for maneuver.

He had even prepared his explanations on how to interpret the temple's illegal activities as acts of convenience, and how to embellish those shady financial transactions as acts of merit by believers.

He believed in his silver tongue, honed over the past thirty years.

However, what he received was neither questioning nor rebuke.

What Liao Fan was met with was a suffocating silence.

Time passed by, one breath at a time.

Liao Fan remained in the posture of bowing and pressing his palms together, like a stone sculpture.

He could feel the cold sweat soaking through his monk's robe, trickling down his back like tiny snakes.

He could hear his heartbeat growing increasingly rapid, each beat feeling like a countdown to his death.

Liao Fan didn't even dare to look up.

A long time, a long time.

So long that everyone present thought time had stopped.

A flat, emotionless voice finally rang out.

"I've come to collect debts."

His voice was unhurried, as if he were talking about something perfectly ordinary, like an ordinary merchant walking into a shop that owed him money.

Abbot Liaofan was startled, almost thinking he had misheard.

Collecting debts?

Is it not about questioning someone? Is it not about condemning someone?
Liao Fan slowly raised his head, his face full of astonishment and confusion. His pupils, constricted by fear, stared blankly at the emperor before him.

"Collecting...collecting debts?"

A faint smile appeared on Zhu Youjian's lips, but it seemed to be nothing more than a mocking frost.

He did not answer Fan's question, but instead looked over Fan's shoulder and towards the magnificent and solemn Mahavira Hall in the distance.

"Zhao Zhilong, the Earl of Xincheng, donated 3,000 mu of paddy fields to your temple in the third year of the Tianqi reign. He donated another 5,000 mu in the fifth year of the Tianqi reign. The total of 8,000 mu of high-quality paddy fields are all located near Yingtian Prefecture. Are the land deeds and documents still in the temple?"

Liao Fan's mind went completely blank for a moment. He felt as if all the blood in his body had frozen in that instant!

Zhao Zhilong!
That hereditary nobleman who was arrogant and domineering in Nanjing, and even the Prefect of Yingtian Prefecture had to give him some leeway!

He is indeed one of the biggest "benefactors" of Jiming Temple!

Those eight thousand acres of paddy fields were nominally owned by the temple, but in reality, they were just using the name of a Buddhist sanctuary to evade the increasingly heavy taxes levied by the imperial court!

This is an unspoken secret that has long been known between the major temples and powerful families in Jiangnan!
It is the most important link that maintains their collusion of interests!
How could the emperor know?! How could he know so clearly?! Even the year and the acreage were accurate to the last detail!

The emperor had already firmly grasped all the evidence of the crimes!
Zhu Youjian seemed completely oblivious to Liao Fan's face, which had instantly turned ashen. He continued in his calm tone:

"Regarding these eight thousand mu of paddy fields, according to the imperial court's policy, I am very curious about the grain tribute and taxes that should have been paid over the past thirteen years. Did the Earl of Xincheng give this money to your temple, or did your temple pay it back to the imperial court on his behalf?"

Zhu Youjian paused, his gaze finally shifting from the main hall back to Liao Fan's pale face.

"And what about all these people? How many are like Zhao Zhilong, these kind-hearted individuals? How much land have they donated? How much shady money have they given you as offerings?"

"These are all accounts."

"I have come here today to settle these scores with you one by one."

"Bring out the ledgers for me to see."

Each word, like an icicle or a steel needle, pierced deeply into Liao Fan's heart.

At this moment, all his defenses crumbled completely. His Zen-like composure, his inner strength, his eloquence—all became a joke in front of the emperor.

Cold sweat poured out of every pore of his body!
Liao Fan felt dizzy and disoriented. The black-robed emperor in front of him seemed to have transformed into Yama, the King of Hell, holding a soul-snatching pen, while he himself was the undeniable evil ghost kneeling before the Yama Palace!

It’s over.

It's all over.

Liao Fan knew that once the real ledger was handed over, every name recorded in the ledger represented a prominent family.

That will be a bloody storm that sweeps across the entire Southern Zhili region!
Those people won't let him live!
And this emperor before us... will not let him live!

It’s death anyway!
In despair, a crazy idea sprouted from the bottom of Liao Fan's heart like a poisonous weed.

He can't just die like this! He has to stall! Buy time!
The emperor only brought these personal guards with him on his southern tour. The garrisons inside and outside Nanjing, the six ministries and nine ministers in Nanjing, and those officials, gentry and nobles who had intricate connections with Jiming Temple would never sit idly by and wait for their doom!
If we can stall until they get the news and organize enough forces, perhaps... perhaps there is still a glimmer of hope!
Thinking of this, Liao Fan bit his tongue hard, and the intense pain brought his almost scattered mind back together.

He looked up, and a smile that looked more like a grimace appeared on his face.

"Your Majesty... Your Majesty is wise."

His voice became shrill due to extreme fear and tension.

"The temple's accounts are numerous and detailed, all for the purpose of offering to the Buddhas of the ten directions, repairing the temple, and providing relief to disaster victims. They are all records of meritorious deeds, not... and are not ordinary accounts."

"If Your Majesty wishes to know, this is the greatest honor for this humble monk and Jiming Temple. However... however, there are simply too many accounts. This humble monk needs to gather the temple's guest master, storekeeper, and others to carefully organize them before presenting them to Your Majesty. Please... please Your Majesty, please wait a moment in the meditation room. This humble monk will be right back!"

He spoke with utmost sincerity, concealing his true intention to delay beneath a facade of respectful accounting for the king.

He even turned slightly to the side, making a gesture of invitation.

He's gambling.

I'm betting that this young emperor will at least consider the dignity of an emperor.

I'm betting that this young emperor will believe his final lie.

However, what Liaofan saw was the emperor smiling.

That smile was warm and innocent, yet it was more terrifying than any form of torture.

Zhu Youjian stopped looking at Fan.

He simply turned his gaze slightly to the side of him, to the Imperial Guard Commander Zhou Quan, who had remained motionless like an iron statue from beginning to end.

That was an extremely subtle movement.

There were no words, no gestures, and no nods.

Just a look.

Thorough understanding, grasped instantly!
"bass--"

A faint, almost inaudible scraping sound rang out.

Those were Zhou Quan's hands, gripping the hilt of the knife.

The next moment!

He seemed to transform into a bolt of lightning, taking a sudden step forward!
fast!
Almost reaching the extreme!
No one present saw his movements clearly!
They only saw a fleeting afterimage!

Only the sunlight captured a trace of it!
It was an arc like a blood-red crescent moon!
It's the flash of a knife!
At this moment, the imperial sword, with the resolute determination to sever all cause and effect in the world, sliced ​​across Abbot Liaofan's neck!
Liao Fan was unable to react at all.

His expression was still frozen on that forced, humble smile.

Liao Fan's eyes still held a hint of confusion and astonishment, as if he didn't understand why the emperor was laughing.

Then, his world began to spin.

Liao Fan saw a familiar headless body dressed in a moon-white monk's robe, still in a bowed and clasped-hands posture.

He saw that the severed neck was a bloody mess, with white tendons and red blood vessels clearly visible.

A stream of warm, scarlet liquid shot up from the broken surface!

Under the midday sun, the blood fountain reflected an eerie and dazzling light, splashing out several steps away!
"Pfft!"

Only at this moment did the sound of the blade slicing through flesh and bone finally reach everyone's ears, seemingly belatedly.

Hot blood splattered all over the ground.

A few drops of scalding blood even traveled five steps to splash onto Zhu Youjian's black casual clothes, but he didn't even frown, as if it wasn't blood, but just a few annoying raindrops.

More blood was splashed onto the gilded Buddha statue behind Liaofan, whose kind eyes looked down upon all living beings!
The Buddha statue, which had cost countless amounts of gold and silver and received offerings from countless people, now had its eternally smiling face, radiating compassion and wisdom, completely covered by a thick, warm, scarlet red.
Liao Fan's head, still filled with astonishment and disbelief, tumbled several times in the air before crashing heavily to the ground.

"Thump... gurgle..."

Like a ball carelessly discarded by a child, it bounced and rolled on the smooth bluestone slab, eventually rolling into the group of officials, gentry, and wealthy merchants huddled on the ground, stopping precisely at the feet of the retired Vice Minister of Revenue.

Those unseeing eyes stared directly into the Vice Minister's eyes, which had instantly lost all their luster.

The old official, who had spent his life navigating the ups and downs of officialdom and considered himself a seasoned veteran, let out a gurgling sound that sounded inhuman. He wanted to scream, but found that the air in his lungs had already been sucked out; he wanted to back away, but found that his limbs felt as if they were filled with lead, so heavy that he could not control them.

His eyes rolled upwards, revealing a horrifying white. He couldn't even manage to faint as a way to escape; his body convulsed violently, and a warm, foul-smelling liquid uncontrollably spread from beneath his luxurious silk trousers, leaving a humiliating stain on the bluestone slab.

He is not the only one.

The other officials and gentry around him displayed even more disgraceful behavior, completely shattering their usual decorum and dignity.

Some desperately rubbed their elbows and heels backward, but their movements were distorted by extreme fear, and they just spun around in a sorry state. Others buried their heads in their arms and let out beast-like howls, as if they could isolate themselves from this hellish scene that had turned the Buddha's presence into a carnage.

Many others, like that vice minister, completely collapsed, collapsing like a lump of mud, tears streaming down their faces, muttering incomprehensible ravings.

All their lifelong honor, power, and cunning were crushed into the most lowly dust before this head that rolled to their feet.

After a brief but terrifying silence, the entire Jiming Temple finally erupted in a hysterical scream!

However, the screams were firmly blocked by the soldiers who stood like a wall, and could only echo in vain in the small courtyard, adding to the sense of despair.

Amidst the background noise of chaos and fear, the emperor slowly moved.

He lifted his foot without any expression.

His black boots lightly stepped over the headless corpse that was still gushing blood, and over Fan's cold hand that was still in a clasped-hands position, as if he were just stepping on a stone blocking his way.

He walked step by step toward the group of monks who were terrified.

The emperor stopped in his tracks.

The screams in the courtyard seemed to be abruptly stopped, as if choked by an invisible hand.

All eyes were focused on the emperor in black robes.

His voice remained as calm as ever.

"My words always seem to cause some unnecessary misunderstandings. Fortunately, Abbot Fan is compassionate and willing to sacrifice himself to provide the clearest explanation for everyone."

The emperor paused, and that brief silence carried more weight than any roar.

"Now, is there anyone else who needs me to clarify their doubts again?"

(End of this chapter)