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

A surge of anger suddenly rose in his heart, burning him so badly that his internal organs ached.

But the next second, that fire was suddenly suppressed by another, darker, more twisted thought.

Hey!

Sure!

If I'm having a hard time, then nobody else should have a good time either!

It's better to be unlucky together than to be unlucky alone. If we're going to be poor, we'll be poor together. When we're begging for food, we'll all sit in a row, holding broken bowls and singing lotus flower ballads. That's what makes it lively!

With this thought in mind, the old monk Jinchi actually managed to force out a few abnormal, weak colors from the ashen face by channeling his spiritual power.

The expression on his face, so full of sorrow that it seemed as if he could wring out bile, was like crumpled rice paper being smoothed out, gradually unfolding until it finally revealed a standard, warm smile, the kind of smile that belongs to an enlightened monk.

"please."

The old monk Jinchi's voice was so steady that even he was surprised.

"Please invite the abbot of Baoguang Temple to serve tea in the front hall."

He straightened his old, patched but remarkably clean robe and walked out with steady steps to greet them.

Abbot Huiming of Baoguang Temple was a large, fat monk with a round face that always wore a smile. He strode in, his squinty eyes habitually scanning his surroundings first—

Good guy!

The vermilion paint was peeling off, the walls were yellowing, the old locust tree in the courtyard was half dead, and a few pale-faced monks were sweeping away the fallen leaves with bald brooms...

This situation was not much better than the most dilapidated beggar's den in the back alley of his Baoguang Courtyard.

Abbot Huiming was taken aback at first, then burst out laughing, pointing at Jinchi and shaking his head with a smile:

"Senior Brother Jinchi, Senior Brother Jinchi! You keep acting! Keep acting! Yesterday, when the investigator came, you could have just dealt with him casually. Did you really have to go to such lengths? Look at this temple, you've practically turned it into the Beggars' Sect's Jinghai branch!"

He leaned closer, lowered his voice, and winked:

"Let me tell you something, junior brother. That person who came yesterday... I've heard he has a fearsome reputation and is not easy to deal with. What kind of person is he? Did he cause you any trouble, senior brother?"

coming.

The old monk Jinchi sneered inwardly, but his smile became even more amiable. He pulled Huiming to sit down at the limping offering table and personally poured him a bowl of water.

Tea? Dog-Master had already snatched it away, tea canister and all.

"Oh, I thought it was something serious. Thank you for your concern, Senior Brother Huiming."

"That Investigator Ji..."

He deliberately dragged out his words, as if carefully choosing his phrases, before shaking his head with a knowing look and lowering his voice:

"Young man, you look intimidating, I've heard you have a fearsome reputation outside. But—"

"He's just a greenhorn who came down here to get some experience and qualifications. He looks serious, but actually..."

"Heh, someone from Jinghai 749, you know, a brute, never seen the world, very easy to fool."

He picked up the bowl of water, took a sip as if savoring tea, smacked his lips, and continued his "heart-to-heart" conversation:

"Look, he came with a follower, carrying a booklet, and pretended to register all the junk in our temple. He asked a few meaningless questions, didn't even drink a sip of tea, and then left politely. He was very well-behaved and didn't make things difficult for us at all."

"If you ask me, most of those rumors outside are just hearsay and exaggerations. We're a legitimate temple. As long as our accounts are clean, our paperwork is complete, and we keep a low profile, what can he do to us? In the end, even the 749 Bureau has to act according to the law, right?"

The old monk Jinchi spoke with utmost sincerity, his tone almost overflowing with the sense of superiority that came from his "experienced advice."

Abbot Huiming listened carefully, observing Jinchi's expression. Seeing that he looked relaxed and spoke with disdain for the living Yama, the last bit of doubt in his heart completely disappeared.

It seems it was just a false alarm.

Although this old man Jinchi acted exaggeratedly, making himself look like a beggar, he was still experienced and easily dealt with that young upstart.

Indeed, what would a brute who establishes his authority through killing know about the profound mysteries of Buddhism or economic exchanges?

With a little superficial work, wouldn't it be easy to fool them?

"Amitabha Buddha, this is good, this is good."

Abbot Huiming's face broke into a smile again, completely relieved.

"With your words, senior brother, I feel much more at ease. It seems that we can all get through this year's ordeal safely."

After exchanging a few more insincere pleasantries, Abbot Huiming rose to take his leave.

As he walked to the front yard and passed the donation box, he habitually glanced into the coin slot—

This is an unspoken tactic among industry peers—to see what other companies are "reaping."

At that glance, he paused again.

Good heavens, it's completely empty.

There wasn't even a single coin to put at the bottom of the box!

He couldn't help but shake his head and chuckle, patting the shoulder of the old monk Jinchi who had seen him out, his tone laced with familiar teasing:

"Brother Jinchi, no offense, but you're being way too honest! At least leave a few coins in the donation box; it's completely empty, which looks very unlucky!"

After saying that, he seemed to have really relaxed, and casually pulled out a few crumpled coins from his sleeve—the change he got from buying sesame cakes on the way here.

Without even glancing at the denomination, and with a hint of joking, he casually stuffed it into the coin slot of the donation box.

"Alright, junior brother, I'll add some incense for you, just in case! Consider this a small token of my appreciation, like adding oil to the Buddha's lamp. I'm off!"

Having said that, he laughed heartily and, feeling completely relaxed, strode out of the mountain gate.

In the past, the old monk Jinchi wouldn't even bother to lift his eyelids at such a paltry amount of incense that wouldn't even be enough to fill a tooth gap.

But now...

Out of the corner of his eye, he kept watching the few bills fall into the empty box, and his Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily.

As soon as Abbot Huiming's figure disappeared outside the dilapidated mountain gate, the old monk Jinchi practically rushed to the donation box.

With trembling hands, he opened the rusty lock, grabbed the few loose bills inside, and clutched them tightly in his palm.

Feeling the slight sense of security brought by the rough paper surface, I quickly stuffed it into my inner pocket.

After doing all this, he leaned against the cold box and let out a long sigh of relief.

There's nothing we can do; it's not that he's useless.

I'm really poor right now.

They're so poor that even a thief would probably leave crying if he came in. And during holidays, they might even throw a couple of bags of rice at him.

He touched the few thin banknotes in the inner pocket, still smelling of the wood from the donation box, and recalled Huiming's relaxed demeanor of "don't worry" and "nothing to fear" just now.

Then think of the desolate scene in your own cellar, scripture library, release pond, and kitchen—so clean you could run a mouse in them…

Slowly, a smile, a mixture of resentment and glee, slowly appeared on the face of the old monk Jinchi.

Huiming, Huiming, and all my fellow disciples from Jialan Temple and Miaoyin Nunnery...

You're laughing at my poor acting now, mocking me for making Jin Chi look like a beggar.

It's okay.

Really, it's okay.

In a few days...

He gazed towards Jinghai City outside the mountain gate, as if he could already see those still magnificent temples, which, in the near future, would become just like his Golden Summit Temple—

The Bodhisattva sheds tears, the pond is emptied, there is no garlic in the kitchen, and an echo can be heard in the donation box.

Thinking about it that way...

The old monk Jinchi touched the few precious bills in his inner pocket, and suddenly felt something in his heart...

Why does it feel so comfortable and great?

He was even a little impatient to see that day come.