Killing Monks

In the past, Guangyuan was quite soft-hearted towards some people.

He felt that those people might not be inherently bad; perhaps they were simply doing what they were supposed to do in their positions.

Your position determines your thinking, your thinking determines your mouth, and what you say determines what you do.

If someone else were in that position, they would probably say the same things and do the same things.

It's not that the person is bad, it's that their position is bad. If the position is bad, just replace them. There's no need to kill them; killing them would be pointless.

Kill one, replace it with another, sit down, and it still tastes the same.

So he didn't kill them; he gave them a chance. A chance to repent and start anew. A chance to move from that position and sit somewhere cleaner.

He gave them. Some people changed after he gave them; others didn't. He let go of those who didn't change.

They were released, and they went back; they went back, and sat down in the same spot again; they sat down again, and did the same things again.

He did it once, twice, three times. Until the day he could no longer bear it.

Now, he's different.

He's changed. Not his heart, but his thoughts.

He used to think that people make mistakes because they don't understand; if they understood, they wouldn't make those mistakes. Now he knows that some people aren't ignorant, they're just pretending not to understand.

If you pretend for too long, you'll genuinely stop understanding. It's not that your mind doesn't understand, it's that your heart doesn't understand. If your heart doesn't understand, you can't reason with them; they won't listen.

You explain the pros and cons to him, and he listens, but he doesn't care.

He only cares about himself. He only cares about himself; he only cares about himself; he only cares about himself; he only cares about himself; he only cares about himself.

If you give this kind of person a chance, they'll just think you're easy to bully.

The easier you are to bully, the more aggressive he becomes. The more aggressive he becomes, the more unrestrained he gets. The more unrestrained he becomes, the less he respects you. And the less he respects you, the more he'll take advantage of you.

Once he's on, he won't get off. If he can't get off, you can only flip him over. Even if you flip him over, he'll get up. Once he gets up, he'll ride again. Once you're on, it's still the same old thing.

Guangyuan now understands that the thoughts in these people's minds are harder to eradicate than their physical bodies.

The body is soft; one cut and it's gone. Thoughts are hard; they can't be broken or burned. If you bury them in the soil, they'll grow back in a few years.

It grows back, but it's still the same. You cut it down, it grows back; you cut it down again, it grows back; you cut it down a hundred times, it grows back a hundred times.

If you can't cut it down anymore, it will grow into a forest.

The woods are full of those people—those you let go, those you thought would change, those you gave opportunities to, but they took those opportunities as a sign of your weakness.

They stood in the woods, looking at you, and laughing. Laughing at your foolishness, your naivety, and your belief in someone you shouldn't have.

If you don't believe them, they won't be laughing anymore.

If you can no longer laugh, then you should die. Death is not physical death, but the death of your thoughts. Once your thoughts die, they will never grow back.

If it stops growing, there's no need to cut it anymore. If we don't cut it anymore, our hands won't ache. And if our hands don't ache, we can do other things.

There are many other things as well.

After the purge, Guangyuan launched an offensive against Northern Zhou.

This isn't a test, it's not harassment, it's a full-scale attack. It's the kind of attack where you use all your strength, bet everything, and win or lose everything.

Standing in front of the map, looking at the markings indicating friend and foe, Xu Laoda felt uncertain.

It's not that I'm afraid of losing, it's that I'm afraid of winning but not being able to hold my ground. If I can't hold my ground, all the fighting will be for nothing. And if it's for nothing, it's better not to fight at all. If I don't fight, I can at least retain some strength.

Save your breath and wait until you're fully prepared before you fight.

Are we ready now? He didn't know. All he knew was that Guangyuan had said to fight.

Guangyuan said to fight, so he fought. He'd fight first and talk about it later.

He feared he would encounter fierce resistance from the people of Northern Zhou.

The Tang state killed so many nobles, so many sects, and so many powerful figures who were deeply rooted in the Northern Zhou, whose every move had far-reaching consequences.

Those people were not isolated; they had relatives, friends, students, former officials, and those who depended on them for food, for survival, and for clinging to life in the chaos of war.

Those people will hate the Tang Dynasty, hate Guangyuan, and hate everyone who has stepped over the land of the Northern Zhou.

They will resist. They will fight desperately. They will bite, scratch, ram their heads, and use anything they can to stop the Tang army from advancing an inch.

Xu Laoda is ready. He's ready to fight tough battles, fierce battles, the kind of battles where it's a fight to the death, a battle that won't end.

But the war never broke out.

When the Tang army crossed the border, they were not met with swords and spears, nor with a rain of arrows, nor with the overwhelming, desperate resistance they had anticipated.

They are the guides. They are those who come from villages, towns, and counties, dressed in tattered clothes, thin and pale, but with a bright light in their eyes.

They stood by the roadside, on the ridges of fields, and on the ruins scorched by war, guiding the Tang army.

This road leads to which place? That road has an ambush? The people of this village are loyal to the Tang Dynasty? The garrison of that town has already fled.

They described it in great detail, down to every fork in the road, every well, and every dilapidated temple that could be used to hide soldiers.

They weren't forced; they came voluntarily. They volunteered to lead the way, to deliver water, and to help push the supply wagons stuck in the mud.

When they did these things, there was no fear, no hesitation, and no sense of reluctance on their faces.

There's only one very simple, straightforward, and clean thing—a welcome. Welcome to our place. Now that you're here, we don't have to put up with those people's mistreatment anymore.

Some even surrendered voluntarily. Not soldiers, but officers.

Those who had served as officials in the Northern Zhou court their entire lives, ate the imperial salary their entire lives, and shouted "Long live the Emperor!" their entire lives, had already opened the city gates, changed to Tang flags, set up incense tables, and knelt by the roadside before the Tang army even arrived at the city, waiting for the Tang general to come and accept their surrender.

They knelt, heads bowed, holding the imperial seals in their hands, saying, "This sinful subject respectfully welcomes the royal army."

The expression on his face wasn't one of shame, but of relief.

I'm so glad I'm still alive, so glad I wasn't beaten to death by those mobs, and so glad I made the right choice at the last moment.

What is the right choice? To live is the right choice. To die is to lose everything.

When there's nothing left, what's the point of right or wrong?

Old Xu couldn't understand it.

He thought there would be resistance, a lot of bloodshed, and many deaths.

No blood was shed, no one died. The battle was over. Or rather, it was over. The Tang army was like a red-hot knife cutting into butter, sizzling as it went in.

What is the author up to? Personal recommendation: I hope you enjoy the story of "Killing the Monk" on Cola Novels.