Killing Monks

These men were burly and heavy-footed, with bulging waists, clearly hiding weapons.

Their faces were dark and rough, and their eyes carried a wild and fierce air.

Upon entering, he swept his gaze across the shop with the domineering air of a hawk, his eyes sweeping over the few tables of merchants with undisguised scrutiny and oppression.

When their gaze fell on Guangyuan and Lu Fei in the corner, the burly men paused only slightly.

Although the two men looked young, one was dressed as a monk and the other as a wandering swordsman, so they weren't particularly conspicuous in this place, but they stood out against the bounty posted at the entrance.

He then quickly moved away and continued his search.

Their target was not these two newly arrested "fugitives".

Although the county government offered a generous reward, in the world of martial arts, apart from those "knife catchers" and "public servants" who made a living by capturing fugitives and exchanging rewards, ordinary people who traveled the martial arts world would not want to cause trouble for no reason unless they had a deep-seated grudge or were absolutely certain of success.

Especially since the other party was a ruthless character who dared to storm the county prison and kill the constables.

This explains why Guangyuan and Lufei could swagger into the inn, and why the waiter was unfazed and served them as usual.

The silver of a wanted criminal felt no different from that of an ordinary customer.

The burly men scanned the area, seemingly unable to find the person they were looking for. The leader, a man with a thick beard, strode to the counter and asked the waiter in a gruff voice:

"Shopkeeper, have you seen a man dressed in a gray cloth jacket with a black mole on his left cheek? He's with a boy who's about a teenager."

The waiter was a clever fellow. He was all smiles and kept saying, "I didn't notice" and "There are too many customers to remember."

The bearded man calmly pushed a small ingot of silver, worth about a few coins, into his hand.

He immediately changed the subject, a more enthusiastic smile spreading across his face. He gestured for the other person to come closer and whispered a few words in a low voice.

Although Guangyuan was sitting far away, his inner strength was profound and his hearing was exceptional; he could vaguely make out a few fragmented words:

"...Before noon...he went west along the main road...with a little girl...for about two or three hours..."

After listening, the burly men exchanged glances, said no more, turned around and hurriedly left the inn. The sound of horses' hooves rang out again and soon disappeared into the distance.

After Lu Fei and the others walked away, his curiosity resurfaced.

He was by nature a busybody, itching to get to the bottom of things, so he immediately beckoned the waiter over and asked in a low voice:

"Young man, who were those menacing figures just now? Were they seeking revenge or collecting a debt?"

The waiter looked around, leaned closer, and lowered his voice even further: "Sir, those are people from the 'Demon Gang,' who have come specifically to collect a debt."

"The Demon Gang? Debt collectors?" Guangyuan raised his eyes and repeated the question, his tone devoid of emotion.

Lu Fei said "Oh," as if suddenly realizing something, and turned to Guangyuan to explain, "This Demon Luo Gang is a group that specializes in 'doing things' for several large temples in the surrounding area."

"You know, there are some accounts that the temple can't directly pursue, lest... well, it damages its image of compassion. So it leaves them to handle."

He didn't finish his sentence, but Guangyuan already understood.

Temples lend money by using morality and faith as shackles, emphasizing merit and blessings, and relying on incense offerings and the belief in retribution in the afterlife. Ordinary people with even a little reverence will always repay the debt.

But there are always exceptions.

Some people are truly at their wits' end, unable to squeeze out even a penny...

Guangyuan has encountered this.

Therefore, some people come to collect debts, and the Moro Gang is the one who collects debts.

Guangyuan didn't say anything more. He just lowered his head, tore into the mutton on the plate, picked up the wine that Lu Fei pushed over, and gulped down a big mouthful.

He put down his wine bowl, wiped his mouth, and said to Lu Fei, "After we finish eating and check out of the room, let's go up and take a look."

Lu Fei was chewing peanuts when he heard this, and he was taken aback. He looked up at him:

"You like to meddle in other people's business too?"

The use of the word "also" here is quite ingenious.

He himself was a natural troublemaker; otherwise, he wouldn't have dared to break into Wuxiang Temple and snatch people after hearing a few complaints from the villagers.

Seeing Guangyuan willingly getting involved in this mess, I felt a sense of kinship with him.

This bald monk isn't that extreme!

Guangyuan shook his head, his gaze fixed on the direction where the group of people had disappeared outside the inn:

"I'm not a busybody, I'm a busybody."

A difference of just one word can have completely different implications.

Lu Fei considered the weight of those words, then didn't ask any more questions, only speeding up his chewing.

The two quickly finished their meal and got up to pay the bill at the counter.

When the waiter heard that the two had checked into the inn, he felt a little sorry for them, but he still promptly returned part of the money.

Guangyuan glanced at him, but didn't take the silver coins. Instead, he extended his right hand and casually patted the thick wooden countertop.

A soft "click" sound.

As he raised his hand, a clear and deep palm print was left on the hard wooden tabletop, with smooth edges and broken texture.

It was as if it were not flesh and blood, but branded by a red-hot iron.

The waiter's face turned pale instantly, and his legs trembled slightly.

Guangyuan said calmly, "You make your money, but I don't want you to make money off us. You know the consequences!"

The waiter nodded vigorously, cold sweat sliding down his forehead.

"Yes, I understand! Don't worry, Master! I... I know nothing!"

This kind of ruthless individual, who was wanted by the government and dared to break into prison and kill people, revealed his true colors by coveting money.

If they hold a grudge, you might not even know how you died!

Guangyuan stopped looking at him and turned to leave the inn with Lu Fei.

It was nearly dusk outside the gate, and the dust on the official road was half-dry.

After a quick identification, the two followed the hoofprints westward.

The hoofprints, sometimes deep, sometimes shallow, stretched along the official road before turning into a secluded side road.

The two used their lightness skills to move swiftly through the forest and wilderness.

As the moon rose high in the sky, a dark forest appeared ahead.

Flickering firelight could be seen in the woods, mingled with suppressed sobs and harsh curses.

The two concealed their presence and quietly approached.

In a small clearing in the woods, a campfire crackled and burned, illuminating several fierce faces gathered in a circle.

It was the same group of burly men from the Demon Gang who had been at the inn during the day.

Their horses were tethered to several trees nearby.

A ragged man was bound across the back of one of the horses' saddles, his mouth stuffed with rags, struggling in vain.

On another horse, a small figure was tied up. Judging from the shape, it was a child. He was motionless, and it was unclear whether he was unconscious or awake.

Guangyuan stopped amidst their wary, scrutinizing, and even somewhat fierce gazes, and leaned closer to say:

"Esteemed benefactors, it is getting late. I am passing through this area and am feeling hungry and thirsty. Would you be so kind as to grant me some alms?"

One of the men was about to say something, but the leader stopped him.

"I wonder what kind of alms the master is seeking?" the leading man said with a slightly menacing air.

"Amitabha. Ordinary vegetarian meals are tasteless. This humble monk practices unorthodox Zen and has a strange peculiar fondness for offerings of blood and flesh."

He paused, staring at the leading man, and spoke each word clearly and distinctly:

"I see that you have people readily available here, benefactor."

"How about... you have mercy and give me two people so I can eat my fill?"

"how?"