Chapter 110: Old Soldiers Never Die

Divine offices and divine powers carry both duties and responsibilities. One cannot simply reap the benefits without giving back; the power of faith is not so easily trifled with.

The root of this matter was simple: Lanruo Temple, seeking to line its pockets, had produced a batch of Buddhist amulets. They then began to advertise: "Possess our amulets, and you shall be spared from great disasters in life and escape the torments of hell in death."

It was nothing more than a marketing slogan designed to empty people's purses. Even if a buyer found them ineffective and encountered disaster, such cases would be in the absolute minority. When that happened, the temple could easily deflect blame by accusing the victim of lacking sincerity or harboring evil deeds. The other believers would invariably side with the temple.

But fate had other plans. Last year, the Western Xia forces invaded, pushing their advance all the way to Zhejiang. When the scourge of war arrives, it does not strike just one or two individuals—it consumes entire villages, cities, and counties. So many people had bought these amulets, yet received no protection. Naturally, they came seeking redress.

"Master, it would be best to return this money." Shen Shi not only understood the situation but also realized that Lanruo Temple’s gamble had collapsed. The power of faith is never without its price.

"Insolent! Audacious! Who are you to act so recklessly? You dare demand the Buddha’s incense money?" Before Shen Shi could say much more, the other monks grew agitated on the spot.

Selling amulets was their trade—a simple and lucrative business. They would buy wood, split it into tablets, carve a few Buddhist scriptures or verses onto them, and collect the coin. What? They didn't work? You want a refund? Are you joking? We are the monks of Lanruo Temple.

"Why wouldn't I dare? You sold these amulets claiming they would protect all living beings. Now, you cannot. They are merely trying to survive and asking for their own money back. Is that not fair?" Shen Shi gestured toward the crowd behind him.

"Nonsense! Leave at once! If you won't leave, we will help you along!" Several warrior monks lunged forward, their expressions fierce and menacing. The abbot did not intervene; instead, he remained silent, watching the spectacle like a play.

Are these monks really this arrogant? Or have they finally revealed their true colors?

"Master, I beg you. I only need twenty strings of cash to buy a simple coffin to bury my late husband." A woman stepped forward. Faced with the monks' aggression, she knelt and pleaded. Without her husband, she could not even afford a funeral.

Her kneeling ignited the fury of the villagers. They had been living in stifling resentment for days. They were devout believers; when the Western Xia forces arrived, they had fought to protect the temple. It was precisely because of their efforts that Lanruo Temple remained unscathed. But having blocked the path of the Western Xia army, did they think the invaders would let them off easily? They spent months protecting the temple, only to return home to find their own houses destroyed.

Was it not promised that buying amulets and protecting the Buddha would keep their homes safe? They could not argue with these monks, nor did they have the words to do so. So they said nothing; they only prayed to the gods, to the Divine Tree, for help. These were the faithful of Guobei County—their belief was genuine, their sincerity profound. This was the karmic debt of the monks, and it was the Divine Tree’s as well.

However, the temple's warrior monks were essentially private soldiers tasked with protecting the temple's assets. They were prepared to use violence against anyone who threatened their wealth. Without a word, a young monk swung his staff, striking with a *crack* that knocked the woman’s headscarf loose. Had she not been mid-kowtow, the blow would have struck her head directly, and the consequences would have been dire.

Shen Shi’s expression turned cold. It seemed there was no chance for a peaceful resolution today.

Shen Shi had indeed hoped for a peaceful end. As a man of his own origins, he understood the common people; as long as they could survive, they would never stir up trouble. Like this group, they prayed to the Divine Tree simply to stay alive. Shen Shi believed Lanruo Temple possessed the power to sustain them—it was only a matter of whether they chose to act. Clearly, the warrior monk’s blow had provided the answer.

Seeing the monks resort to violence, the other villagers forgot their piety and were instantly consumed by rage. "What are you doing!" They had not struck first; the monks had. This was completely unexpected.

As one monk attacked, another, a man in his twenties, swung his staff again, aiming at the woman. At this moment, a villager stepped forward, raising his wooden staff to parry. *Clang!* The staffs collided. Though the villager knew a thing or two about combat, he had not eaten a full meal since the previous year; his body was frail, and he was no match for the warrior monk. As soon as he parried the blow, the young monk’s staff recoiled and struck him in the stomach, sending him flying!

"Ah!" The other villagers scrambled to catch him, preventing him from hitting the ground. They were among the poorest of the Song Dynasty—perhaps not before the war, but certainly after. If they were injured, they had no money for doctors or medicine. More importantly, they were the very believers who had bled to protect Lanruo Temple.

"You’re hitting people?"

"Her husband died protecting you, and you dare to strike her?"

"Master, we have worshipped the Buddha since we were children. How can you hit people? Are you even true members of the Buddhist faith?"

Everyone was disillusioned. The remaining shards of reverence they held for the Buddha and the high monks vanished in an instant. With a roar, many surged forward!

The warrior monks looked at them, unfazed by the collective anger. With utter contempt, they sneered: "I told you to leave at once! You refused to listen! Do not blame us for being impolite! You bunch of beggars, lingering in the temple just to swindle us for porridge and rice!"

"I say it again! Withdraw at once!" Their faces twisted in hideous expressions; they looked more like common bandits than monks.

A villager stepped forward, chest out: "And if we don't?"

Before he could finish his words, a monk launched a sneak attack, swinging his staff into the villager’s face. *Thud!* The man flew sideways—the sheer force of the blow was evident.

"Little Zhao!"

"Damn it!"

"These bald donkeys!"

The blow ignited the fury of the entire crowd. They realized that if they retreated any further before these monks, they would be beaten to death. No one wanted to die; even if they believed in the Buddha, that did not mean they wanted to perish.

With a surge, the villagers grabbed whatever they could use as weapons. They might not be as skilled in martial arts as the monks, but they were no slouches. To protect the temple, they had fought the Western Xia soldiers hand-to-hand. Having survived those battles, if they weren't elite troops, they were at least seasoned veterans.

"Apologize! You’re beating women—are you even human?" The veterans led the charge, their anger emboldening the others. Faced with men who were willing to die, even the warrior monks hesitated, stammering, "In the eyes of those who have left the secular world, there is no distinction between men and women!"