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

Inside Jinshan Temple, things are bustling with activity right now.

More than thirty great demons, like more than thirty mountains, pinned down all the old monks and abbots of Jinshan Temple who had some spiritual power and had originally intended to jump out and subdue demons.

They were all red-faced and bulging-necked, wanting to move? No way!

The oppressive aura was like the Five Finger Mountain pressing down on Sun Wukong, so heavy it could make someone faint.

With those old guys out of the way, the group of "mahjong bandits" wearing mahjong hoods below really had a blast.

Good heavens, they really scoured the ground thoroughly!

The Great Buddha Hall?

Empty it out!

Library?

Bookshelves and scriptures, whether palm-leaf manuscripts or handwritten copies, were all stuffed into the storage bag!

Those heavy-looking golden Buddha statues in the Medicine Buddha Hall?

Pry! With a "crack," the crowbar was used to lift the entire Buddha statue, base and all!

What about the five hundred Arhats in the Arhat Hall?

Hey, they all left after their downfall.

Wherever it passed, it left a spot cleaner than if a dog had licked it; not even the bronze incense burners on the altar were left.

The ancient temple, which had stood for thousands of years, was bald in the blink of an eye, just like a wheat field that had been ravaged by locusts.

No, it's even worse than that.

At least in a wheat field, some stubble can be left, but here even the paving stones have been pried up.

Jin Xiaoman said that thing is thousands of years old. Don't underestimate it just because it's a brick; it's an antique and valuable!

The entire Jinshan Temple looks like a bare-bones house that has just been plastered.

Empty and deserted, with only a few load-bearing pillars standing there forlornly, telling the story of the lively scene just moments before.

"Report to the authorities...report to the government!!"

An old monk with white eyebrows and beard, wearing a purple kasaya, slumped on the ruins of the former Mahavira Hall.

He slapped his thigh and cried his heart out, tears streaming down his face, his voice cracking.

"Lawless! Absolutely lawless!! In broad daylight... no, in the dead of night, they're robbing a temple! Is there no justice left?!"

He cried while keeping a close eye on the distance out of the corner of his eye.

There, several "bandits" were running out of his meditation room in high spirits, one of them carrying a heavy satchel embroidered with gold thread.

He knows that satchel very well!

That was his savings that he had accumulated over nearly two hundred years!

Inside are gold leaves, spirit stones, and several treasured magical artifacts!

He kept it a secret so well that he didn't even tell his most trusted apprentice.

"My money! My baby!!"

The old monk recognized him at a glance, and his heart ached terribly, more painful than if he had been stabbed in the heart.

My blood rushed upwards, my vision went black, I let out a "uh" sound, and my body leaned back, almost passing out.

Fortunately, a young monk nearby reacted quickly and caught him.

"Hey! You old bald monk, what are you howling about?"

One of the demon race's great saints, who was surrounding them, became unhappy.

He stepped forward, stretched out his large, fan-like hand, and gave the old monk a light but firm flick on the forehead.

"You dare report me to the authorities? If you keep talking, believe me, I'll break all your old teeth out as souvenirs!"

"You...you all!!" The old monk's head was buzzing from the flick, he was both angry and scared, and his finger was trembling as he pointed at the Black Wind Great Sage.

"What do you mean, 'you'?" Black Wind Great Sage glared, raising his hand. "Looking for a beating?"

The old monk immediately shrank his neck and dared not utter a sound, only letting out soft sobs, like a young wife who had suffered a great injustice.

Another older monk, dressed in a yellow robe and looking slightly younger, couldn't bear to watch any longer.

My fellow disciples were so humiliated, and the pure land of Buddhism suffered such a calamity. A surge of righteous indignation welled up in my heart.

He suddenly straightened his back, his face contorted with rage, and shouted sharply, "You! You are simply..."

The rest of the sentence, "simply," hadn't even been uttered yet.

"Bang!"

A thick, bronze rod, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, landed squarely in his mouth.

"Ugh!!" The old monk in yellow robes groaned as two of his front teeth, mixed with blood and saliva, flew out.

He was so hit that he spun around on the spot, seeing stars. Before he could even stand up, several impatient demon saints rushed at him.

"Serves you right for being so talkative!"

"Beat him up!"

"I've disliked this bald monk for a long time; he's got that sanctimonious face!"

The punches and kicks rained down like raindrops, carrying no demonic power, just pure physical attacks, but they couldn't withstand the heavy blows of these great saints.

"Ouch!"

"Don't hit me in the face!"

"Buddha... oh no, sir, spare my life!"

The old monk in yellow was instantly knocked down, clutching his head and curling up on the ground.

His monk's robes were covered in footprints, and he was no longer the dignified monk he once was. His screams were worse than those of a pig being slaughtered.

The young monks and novices around them were all terrified, their faces ashen. They lowered their heads, keeping their eyes down and not daring to breathe.

He silently prayed, "May Buddha protect me from seeing me," fearing that if he looked at them wrong, he might anger these evil spirits and be beaten up next.

The entire scene of the raid was filled with a strange harmony amidst the heated atmosphere.

The bandits had a clear division of labor and were extremely efficient.

"Hurry, hurry! Get moving! That group over there, go check out the pagoda forest on the back mountain! I heard some eminent monks' relics are buried there!"

"Have you finished cleaning the library? If you're done, let's go to the bell tower! That bronze bell looks quite old!"

"Hey! You over there with the 'Nine of Bamboo' badge! I'm talking to you! That's enough, stop stuffing everything into your pockets! Good grief, your belt's about to burst! Your underwear's practically showing!"

A monster was holding a tin megaphone that he had somehow acquired, shouting orders and giving commands with an air of authority.

It had the air of a construction foreman urging his men to move bricks.

"call--!"

Xiong Meng carried the last, largest, and heaviest gilded seated statue of Buddha out of the ruins.

Carefully placing the Buddha statue next to the small mountain of spoils piled on the open ground, he wiped non-existent sweat from his forehead and said in a simple, honest voice to Jin Xiaoman beside him:

"Xiaoman, I think... it's about time, right? It seems like everything that could be moved has been moved."

Jin Xiaoman, wearing his "get rich" hood, had his small eyes flashing with golden light, like two searchlights, still relentlessly scanning around.

He smacked his lips and shook his head with a hint of regret:

"Brother Meng, I have a feeling... there are still some fish that have escaped the net in this temple, and there are still some good things that haven't been dug out yet."

"But there are so many treasures here, the smells are all mixed up. It's like I've entered a vegetable market, there are smells everywhere, and I can't accurately pinpoint which cabbage is the freshest."

His treasure-hunting talent also has limitations; when there are many or a variety of treasures, it's like signal interference, making it less effective.

"well……"

Just as Xiong Meng and Jin Xiaoman were staring at each other, a voice, both playful and incredibly familiar, slowly came from behind them.

"They're still young after all."

"He has little skill and is easily fooled."

The voice wasn't loud, but it seemed to have a magical power, instantly silencing the bustling scene of the house raid for a moment.

All the monsters, whether they were prying up floor tiles or packing scriptures, turned their heads in unison to look at the source of the sound.

From the direction of the woods, Ji Zuodao swayed and walked out.

He was holding something in his arms.

No, to be precise, it was holding a dog.

An old black dog with jet-black fur, but now bald patches and missing clumps, looking as if it had been gnawed by ten thousand mad dogs, its body covered in blood and scorch marks.

Dog Lord!

"Dog Lord!!"

After a brief silence came a roar of almost earth-shattering jubilation!

"Dogman! Are you alright?!"

"Dog Lord!! We've missed you so much!"

"Your...your style is quite unique!"

A group of monsters swarmed around it, their eyes shining, even more excited than if they had seen the treasures of Jinshan Temple.

Several emotional and sentimental monsters' eyes immediately welled up with tears. Looking at Dog Master's pitiful state, like a tattered rag doll, their voices even trembled with sobs.

"Dog Master...how...how did you get like this? Who the hell beat you up like this? We'll go avenge you!"

Holding Ji Zuodao, Doggy lifted his eyelids, glanced at the group of "bandits" surrounding him, and grinned, revealing a look of disgust:

"Get out of here! What are you crying for? Are you wailing at a funeral?"

"You guys don't know anything!"

Dog struggled to jump down from Ji Zuodao's arms, landing on all fours. Although he looked a little unsteady, his reckless spirit remained undiminished.

It even deliberately raised its head and puffed out its chest, which had hardly any good skin left, although this action made it wince in pain.

"This is trendy! You know what? The latest war-damaged style! Retro and distressed! You young people have absolutely no taste!"

It flicked its tail, trying to shake off a dead leaf stuck to it, but it failed.

"What are you all standing there for?"

Dog Lord raised his head, his dog eyes sweeping over the group of monsters still in a daze, and he snorted in dissatisfaction:

"Have you finished your work? Why are you all staring at me like that? Do I have something precious on my face?"

"Look at your pathetic ambitions! You're satisfied with just scraping the land three feet deep? You're so short-sighted!"

"Listen to me! Go! Drain that merit pool! There are always stupid pilgrims throwing gold and silver into the mud at the bottom, and monks secretly hiding their own stuff!"

"And over there, see those old, crooked trees that look quite old? Especially the one in front of the Abbot's Temple! Go, dig three feet deep under its roots!"

"The area under these old trees is often a good place to hide things! Those old monks used to love playing this game of hiding treasure in tree hollows!"

"Also, knock down that wall behind the outhouse and take a look! And under that old stove in the kitchen... tsk tsk, there's a lot more to it than meets the eye! You guys are still too young!"