A heretical cultivator in Bureau 749, I'm the fiercest at pulling out tendons and skinning peop

Then, Li Shuwen began his performance on the stage.

He took a pen and a form and followed the Venerable Jinchi, starting from the main hall, registering everything in detail.

"A damaged clay Buddha statue, about six feet tall, with cracks in its arms."

"A wooden altar table with peeling paint, about eight feet long, with unstable legs."

"Thirty-seven old prayer cushions, with clumps of cotton inside."

"A bronze incense burner, severely corroded, with one handle missing."

……

He read out one, and the old monk Jinchi nodded in confirmation, his expression sincere, but inwardly he was overjoyed.

Yes, that's how you remember it! The more worn and tattered, the better; the older, the better!

It would be safest to just remember Jinding Temple as a branch of the Beggars' Sect!

Li Shuwen kept writing while also asking "thoughtfully" about details from time to time, his attitude was incredibly kind.

But when those eyes hidden behind the glasses occasionally glance at a seemingly ordinary corner tile that is actually hastily covered up, or a beam with an obviously different paint color, a fleeting, almost imperceptible glint will flash across them.

Ji Zuodao, on the other hand, acted like a true leader on an inspection tour, with his hands behind his back, following Li Shuwen and the old monk Jinchi at a distance, rarely speaking, just watching.

Look at the stone platform beside the release pond, which was hastily wiped but still has water stains.

Look under those ancient cypress trees, which have clearly been turned over recently and whose soil is still fresh.

Look at that spot on the dome of the main hall; the colors seem a bit out of place, as if it's been newly painted...

He observed very carefully, but the slight smile on his lips never changed.

Meanwhile, Dog Master had already wandered off and disappeared.

It's just a dog, who would care?

It wagged its tail, sniffing here and there, sometimes sneaking into the side hall, sometimes strolling to the meditation room in the backyard, and sometimes raising its hind leg to leave a "I was here" mark in a certain patch of grass.

The monks, seeing this, simply regarded it as a pet brought by Ji Zuodao and were too lazy to chase it away.

Dog was happy to have some peace and quiet, but Dog Nose was never idle.

Hmm... There are quite a few good things sunk to the bottom of the release pond; even an oilcloth can't contain the fragrance of sandalwood.

Tsk, the entrance to this cellar is even less well hidden than the pit where I bury my bones. Besides the scriptures, there are probably quite a few other valuable items buried inside, right?

Oh my? There's a hidden compartment under the bed in this meditation room? The workmanship is a bit rough; the ash wasn't even spread evenly.

And that library... behind the innermost row of bookshelves on the third floor, the smell is off, there's a hidden wall.

Dog Lord investigated while mentally complaining.

These bald monks are far less adept at hiding things than the fox spirits in their ancestral home in the mountains behind the village.

You think you can hide this from your master?

It wobbled along and eventually wandered into a secluded bamboo grove in the temple.

There was no one around, only the rustling of the wind through the bamboo leaves.

Dog stopped and looked around, a hint of human-like disdain flashing in its eyes.

Then it opened its mouth and made a soft, nauseating "gurgling" sound in its throat.

The next second, it vomited!

What came out was not filth, but a half-sticky, wet, shapeless, dark red lump of flesh that faintly emitted a strange fluctuation.

The lump of flesh began to wriggle slightly as soon as it hit the ground.

Dog stretched out its paw, disgustedly pawing at the fleshy lump a few times, then kicked it into the roots of a clump of lush green plants nearby, hastily covering it with fallen leaves.

After doing all that, it licked its nose, reverted to its silly, goofy dog ​​self, wagged its tail, and strolled back home.

It was as if that bizarre scene had never happened.

The bamboo forest was silent, save for the sound of the wind.

As the sun gradually rose higher, it illuminated the deliberately aged and dilapidated appearance of the Golden Summit Temple, making it appear even clearer and more comical.

Li Shuwen finally closed the booklet filled with notes, tapped his finger lightly on the cover, and wore a satisfied expression of having successfully completed his task.

"Master Jinchi, look, everything has been clearly registered. Large and small items alike, nothing is missing."

He handed over the booklet with both hands, his posture respectful.

The old monk Jinchi took the booklet and glanced at the pages full of "damaged," "old," and "rusted" words. The weight on his heart was lifted, and the wrinkles on his face smoothed out, revealing even more "sorrowful" folds.

"Thank you for your trouble, sir... Our humble temple is poor and has nothing to offer. Please forgive us."

As he spoke, he glanced quickly at Ji Zuodao, who hadn't said much, out of the corner of his eye.

The legendary living Yama stood in the shadows of the palace eaves, arms crossed, his face expressionless, seemingly bored with all the tedious registration.

He would only occasionally glance at the sky, or casually sweep his gaze over the desolate corners of the temple.

He didn't look like someone who came to investigate a case; he looked more like a junior who had been forced to come by his elders, impatient but had no choice but to go through with the task.

The last bit of wariness that the old monk Jinchi had was completely dispelled by Ji Zuodao's listless appearance.

It seems that most of the rumors circulating outside are exaggerated.

All that ruthlessness and deep scheming—he's just a young lad, impatient and lacking in real skill.

"Not at all, it's just my duty."

Ji Zuodao finally spoke, his voice flat and carrying a hint of laziness from having just finished his work.

"Now that the registration is complete, I won't bother you any longer. Master Jinchi, life at the temple is auspicious, please take care."

As he spoke, he even made a gesture of respect by bowing with his hands clasped.

"No, no, you've worked so hard, sir."

The old monk Jinchi quickly put his palms together in return, his face overflowing with gratitude and shame. "This old monk will see you two officials off."

"No need to see me off any further, please stay a while."

Ji Zuodao waved his hand, turned around and walked out, his steps decisive and without the slightest hesitation.

Li Shuwen quickly put away his paper and pen and jogged to catch up.

The two walked one after the other along the same bluestone path they had come from, and soon disappeared outside the mountain gate.

Only after the two figures had completely disappeared from sight did the old monk Jinchi slowly straighten his slightly hunched back.

The sorrow and timidity on his face vanished instantly, replaced by an expression that mixed mockery and smugness.

"Hmph, you brat."

He spat under his breath, turned around, and looked at the dilapidated temple he had personally decorated, a cold smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

A fearsome reputation? Nothing special.

He manipulated them, and they left satisfied with a tattered notebook full of notes.

"Abbot..."

A young novice monk timidly approached from the side.

"What's the panic?"

The old monk Jinchi glanced at him sideways, his voice regaining its usual majesty and mellowness.

"Go tell the kitchen to add more dishes tonight! And bring out that 50-year-old jar of vegetarian liquor from the cellar!"

"Huh?" The young novice was taken aback. "But...but the temple isn't..."

"What is it?"

The old monk Jinchi glared at him.

"The plague god is gone, shouldn't we celebrate? Hurry up! And keep a close watch on all those hidden things! No one is allowed to touch them without my permission!"

"Yes, yes!" The young novice dared not ask any more questions and quickly ran away.

The old monk Jinchi stood in the courtyard with his hands behind his back, looking in the direction Ji Zuodao had left, and then at the light registration book in his hand. He felt more relaxed than ever before.

Along with that, the dusty Buddha statue, the chipped rough pottery bowl, and even the few meager one-cent coins at the bottom of the donation box all seemed much more pleasing to the eye.

This play was well worth performing!

He could almost see it: the pilgrims would throng the streets again, and the donation boxes would be filled once more.

And that ridiculous register from Bureau 749 will forever serve as irrefutable evidence of his "poverty" at Golden Summit Temple.

A mountain breeze swept through the hall, bringing a touch of coolness and the faint, distant hustle and bustle of the city.

The old monk Jinchi took a deep breath of the free and rich air, and strolled slowly towards the meditation room in the backyard.

It's time to properly soothe my stomach, which has been feeling aggrieved these past few days for pretending to be poor.

As for the departing "plague god"...

He turned back and glanced at the empty mountain gate, letting out a barely audible hum.

He's probably slinking back to the station right now, handing over his worthless errand.

This is truly a case of: the plague god departs and hearts rejoice, while wine and meat waft from the depths of a dilapidated temple. The King of Hell turns away with a smile, unaware that the list is an epitaph, and that a treacherous plan has long been planted in his heart.