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

"Cheating!!"

"This is absolutely cheating!!"

"Mind reading! It must have mind-reading techniques!"

"Referee! Where is the referee?! Aren't you going to do anything about this?! Is there any fairness left in this game?!"

The investigators from each branch were indignant, slamming their fists on the table and glaring, shouting louder and louder than the last, as if they had suffered a great injustice.

But if you look closely, you'll see that deep in the eyes of many people, besides anger, there is also a hint of relief and even a little bit of smugness.

fine……

Thank goodness this dead dog was cheating!

This idea arose spontaneously in the minds of many "academic superstars" and "high achievers".

Imagine if this dog truly possessed the solid knowledge of "knowing a thousand characters at three and reciting Tang poems at five," and utterly crushed these elites from various departments...

The scene was too beautiful for them to imagine.

The Dao Heart?

It would probably shatter on the spot, beyond repair, and the person would live the rest of their life in the psychological shadow of "I'm not even as good as a dog."

Now it's confirmed, the cheating is real!

Although the defeat was frustrating, at least it wasn't due to a lack of intelligence or knowledge! We lost face, but saved face! Not a loss... maybe even a small profit?

The spirit of Ah Q achieved a triumphant convergence across species at this moment.

However, while some were relieved, others were devastated.

Moreover, it collapsed quite completely.

The audience seating area, specifically for Buddhist representatives.

The serene and peaceful expressions on the faces of the several elderly monks, dressed in kasayas and with solemn appearances, had vanished.

Their eyes were wide open, staring intently at the black dog in the center of the arena, which was clinging to its front legs and acting arrogantly. Their lips trembled, their fingers shook, and they could barely hold onto their prayer beads.

Buddha's heart?

The Buddha's heart is about to crumble into a QR code; scanning it only results in "Holy crap!"

They possessed profound knowledge of Buddhism and had progressed extremely far in the three studies of "precepts, concentration, and wisdom." Their spiritual awareness was far more acute than that of ordinary practitioners.

At this moment, they finally saw clearly the two traces of supernatural power flowing within the black dog's body.

Although faint, one of them even felt brittle, as if it were underdeveloped.

But that feeling is definitely not wrong!

The Six Supernatural Powers of Buddhism!

Moreover, it is one of the two most profound and mysterious of them—telepathy and precognition!

Six supernatural powers!

That is the state that countless Buddhist disciples pursue throughout their lives; it is a necessary condition for perfect enlightenment and the attainment of Buddhahood!

Which of these old monks didn't enter the temple from childhood, spending countless years in quiet contemplation, chanting sutras and reciting Buddhist scriptures, meditating and practicing Zen?

The results of it?

As a result, a dog, a seemingly carefree dog, quietly cultivated the six supernatural powers they had always dreamed of?!

And they repaired two of them at once!

One of the elderly monks, of extremely high seniority and great prestige, was now weeping uncontrollably. The murky tears streamed down his deep wrinkles, and his lips trembled as he murmured to himself, his voice filled with a sense of disillusionment after centuries of spiritual practice:

"Amitabha... This old monk... This old monk has spent his whole life practicing Buddhism and Zen, and I pride myself on my profound knowledge of Buddhist teachings and strict adherence to the precepts..."

He raised his trembling hand, pointed at Dog Master in the arena, and burst into tears:

"Looking back now, it really was... really a waste of time and effort!"

"Waaaaah... Buddha, please open your eyes! A dog has cultivated the six supernatural powers! This old monk chants Buddhist scriptures every day, carefully contemplates and observes all sentient beings, but I... I haven't grasped even a single thing! Not a single thing!"

Beside them, an old Taoist priest, dressed in a shabby robe, reeking of alcohol, and with hazy, drunken eyes, was dozing against a pillar when he was awakened by the commotion.

He squinted his drunken eyes, glanced at the old monk who was crying his eyes out, and then looked at the arrogant Dog Master in the arena. He seemed to understand something, and suddenly laughed out loud.

"Oh my, I had no idea who was wailing here, it's you, you old bald monk."

The drunken old Taoist priest swayed over, let out a burp reeking of alcohol, wiped his mouth with his greasy sleeve, and said mockingly:

"Tsk, it's been a century. Why are you crying like a baby whose candied hawthorn was stolen? Let me guess... Did you see someone achieve what you've always dreamed of, and your Dao heart... oh no, your Buddha heart collapsed?"

The old monk simply closed his eyes and wept, his prayer beads spinning rapidly in his hand as he muttered incantations, suppressing his turbulent emotions and ignoring the drunkard.

The drunken old Taoist priest wouldn't let him go, moving closer and breathing heavily on the wound, continuing to rub salt into it.

"Ah, I remember when we were discussing Taoism at Longhu Mountain a hundred years ago, you said it yourself, that the opportunity for the six supernatural powers had appeared and the attainment of Buddhahood was in sight. You were so full of vigor that even our Celestial Master thought that Buddhism was about to produce another Buddha to reside in the world!"

He counted on his fingers, feigning surprise:

"That's all in the past... one, two, three... wow, a whole hundred years! Where has that opportunity you had already presented gone? How many supernatural powers have you cultivated? Tell us about it, so we can open our eyes and learn something!"

The old monk's face flushed red and then turned pale, his lips pressed tightly together, unable to utter a single word.

A century ago, he did indeed sense a subtle opportunity.

That feeling was so real that it convinced him he was on the right path, just one step away from success.

Despite a century of arduous cultivation, the opportunity has not become clearer; instead, it has grown weaker and weaker, like a candle flickering in the wind, until it is now barely perceptible and almost nonexistent.

Being exposed in public by this drunkard is like rubbing salt into a wound, causing immense shame and indignation.

Seeing that the old monk remained silent, the drunken Taoist priest became even more enthusiastic, shaking his head and swaying his body with an expression that said, "I'm doing this for your own good."

"If you ask me, you bald monks in Buddhism simply haven't accumulated enough merit in your daily lives; you lack true virtue!"

"All they do is shut themselves in their rooms chanting scriptures and meditating, engaging in empty rhetoric and debates. What's the use? They don't care about the world's affairs or the people's suffering, but they're quite quick to collect donations."

"Take my advice: if you truly want to become a Buddha, stop thinking about sitting in meditation facing a wall. Learn from others and do something practical!"

"For example, melt down all those glittering, heavy, useless golden Buddha statues in your temple!"

"Let's raise the money! Let's donate it! Let's build bridges and roads, schools, welfare homes, help the elderly and orphans, and benefit society!"

"Who knows, the very next day you'll achieve perfect merit, and in a flash, the six supernatural powers will come to you! You'll instantly become a Buddha!"

He patted his chest, drunkenly promising, "Trust me, you won't go wrong!"

"Absurd! Heresy!" The old monk trembled with rage, his beard bristling. "Destroying the golden statue is a grave sin of blasphemy against the Buddha! How can it be considered meritorious?!"

"Alas, rotten wood cannot be carved, and a wall of dung cannot be plastered."

The drunken old Taoist shook his head and swayed, spouting a profound sentence before reverting to his drunken state, muttering, "I've told you the shortcut to Buddhahood, but you don't believe me, so there's nothing I can do."

As he spoke, he cast his hazy, drunken eyes toward the culprit that had caused all the chaos in the room.

"How strange, how bizarre... What kind of nonsense is this? It's crooked and twisted, all oddly shaped, and why does it have so many eyes?"

"But it's precisely this strangely shaped thing that possesses a certain Buddhist nature... that seems to be even purer than some monks who constantly chant 'Amitabha' and have solemn appearances?"

"Tsk tsk, some people worship Buddha their whole lives, but in the end they're not even as good as a dog."

"By the way, is this thing really a dog?"

"Can't see clearly, can't see clearly, damn it, I'm not looking anymore, what does this have to do with the old Taoist priest?"