Killing Monks

Killing someone is easy, but killing someone cannot change a person's mind.

To change people's minds, the first thing to do is to ensure they have enough to eat.

You'll only think about other things when you're full.

With that thought in mind, Guangyuan plunged headfirst into the pile of farm tools.

He first squatted down at the edge of the field and watched Wu Laosan and Ma Youcai use those old farm tools.

If the plowshare is dull, turning the soil becomes difficult. If the plowshare is too straight, turning corners becomes difficult.

The two of them worked all day and were so tired that they couldn't straighten their backs, but the ground they turned over was full of potholes.

He then traveled all over Qujiang County to look at other people's farming tools.

Wealthy families had better plows, but they were still the same old ones. Poor families were even worse off; some didn't even have plows and had to rely on a hoe to dig.

He also went to the blacksmith's shop to see how the blacksmith made farm tools.

The old blacksmith, seeing him asking so many questions, impatiently waved his hand and said, "Go away, what do you, a monk, know about farm tools?"

Guangyuan didn't say anything, but took out his money and bought an axe and a saw, then carried them back to the temple.

He started drawing blueprints.

Memories of my past life surged through my mind: illustrations from textbooks, scenes from documentaries, and long-faded impressions.

He drew it again and again, and revised it again and again.

He started sawing wood.

A martial artist's strength is a good thing.

What others could saw through in half a day, he could split in a few swings of his axe. But great strength doesn't equate to skill; he bent countless logs and ruined countless planks.

Ten days later, he finally produced two items.

One of them is a curved plow.

He modified the plowshare to be curved, making it more agile when turning. He adjusted the angle of the plowshare, making the tip sharper and the surface smoother.

When turning the soil, there is less resistance, and the plow goes deeper into the soil. What used to require two oxen to pull the plow can now be pulled by just one ox.

One of them is a treadle plow.

This is prepared for families without cattle.

A long pole with an iron plowshare at the bottom; a person stands on it and pushes it forward by stepping on it. Although slower than an ox-plow, it is much faster and less strenuous than a hoe.

Both pieces are made of wood and are still in their early stages.

He called Wu Laosan and Ma Youcai over.

"Give it a try."

The two men exchanged a glance and, without understanding why, took the two farm tools.

Neither of their families owned oxen, so they could only try using a treadle plow.

Ma Youcai planted the plow in the ground, stepped on it, leaned forward, and the plowshare dug into the soil. He walked forward step by step, the soil behind him churning up.

He took a few steps and then stopped.

He looked down at the treadmill, then looked up at Guangyuan, his face full of disbelief.

"Master, you...you can do this too?"

He thought monks only chanted scriptures!

Wu Laosan grabbed the plow and tried it out himself.

He was sweating profusely, but a smile played on his face as he muttered, "Fast, really fast! Much faster than a hoe!"

Guangyuan remained silent.

He knew that farm tools were very important to farmers.

Some temples provide tenant farmers with farm tools and oxen, and the harvest is split 60/40. This alone shows how important farm tools are.

"These won't do." Guangyuan pointed to the sled. "Some parts need to be replaced with iron."

He turned around and went to the blacksmith's shop.

This time, he brought the blueprints for both the treadle plow and the curved plow. The old blacksmith looked at them for a long time, then didn't chase him away, but just silently started hammering away.

A few days later, Guangyuan returned with the forged iron parts and reassembled the farm tools.

This time it's solid.

He handed the curved plow and the treadle plow to Wu Laosan and Ma Youcai.

The two men took the farm tools as if they were some rare treasure. The women and children of their family also gathered around, asking all sorts of questions.

In the following days, he went to Wu Laosan and Ma Youcai's place again, immersing himself in reading Chapter Ninety-Nine, "Eating Well," and telling them about "manure sheds" and "composting."

The two of them were stunned.

Guangyuan said that a manure house is a small shed with a pit, where human excrement, pig manure, cow manure, and sheep manure are collected and left to decompose for several months to become good fertilizer.

The only thing to be careful about is avoiding direct sunlight.

Composting is more troublesome. It requires layering straw, weeds, fallen leaves, and chaff, sprinkling manure on each layer, tamping it down, covering it with soil, and then letting it ferment for several months.

"When it's time to sow, we should plow deeply and fertilize," Guangyuan said, "that will increase yield."

Wu Laosan and Ma Youcai looked at each other in bewilderment.

That sounds so unreliable.

But when they looked at the two farm tools in the corner of the room, and then at the young abbot in front of them, they swallowed back the words that were on the tip of their tongues.

Although this Buddha is strange, the things he takes out are really useful.

"Master," Ma Youcai said cautiously, "the wheat has already been planted this year. We can only try your method after the wheat harvest and when the next crop is planted."

Guangyuan nodded.

"Indeed," he said. "Collecting excrement and composting it takes several months."

He paused, then suddenly changed the subject.

"I plan to open a small martial arts school in the temple," he said, "to teach the children some martial arts so they will have a skill to make a living in the future."

He pointed to a few children peeking out from not far away. They were Wu Laosan's two sons, and Ma Youcai's son and daughter.

The older one was a little over ten years old, and the younger one was only five or six. They were hiding in the corner, peering this way.

Wu Laosan was stunned for a moment.

"Master," he asked cautiously, "how much does it cost to learn martial arts?"

"It's free," Guangyuan said. "All we need is for the child to come."

Wu Laosan and Ma Youcai exchanged another glance.

Free of charge?

These days, you have to pay an apprenticeship fee to learn a trade, let alone martial arts. The money collected by those martial arts schools and academies could bankrupt a family.

But this Buddhist monk said he didn't want any money?

But children are also a source of labor.

Ma Youcai opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but didn't know how to say it.

Guangyuan seemed to have read his mind and added:

"On weekdays, I also provide a meal at noon."

The two fell silent.

One meal will be provided.

The children in the family, especially the boys around ten years old, are at their biggest eater. Another mouth to feed means another burden. If they could eat at the temple…

Wu Laosan spoke first.

"Then... I'll have to trouble you, Master."

He bent down and bowed to Guangyuan.

Ma Youcai also bowed.

"Yes, thank you for your trouble, Master."

Guangyuan nodded and didn't say anything more.

He turned and walked into the temple. Behind him, the children were still hiding in the corner, peeking out at him.

When Guangyuan returned to Prajna Temple, before he even entered the gate, he saw a familiar face standing outside.

The abbot of the small Buddhist temple.

The abbot, dressed in a brand-new monk's robe and carrying an oil paper package, greeted him with a smile and cupped his hands in greeting from afar.

"Junior Brother Guangyuan, we've been waiting for you!"

As Guangyuan approached, the aroma of sesame oil wrapped in oil paper wafted over, a specialty of the small Buddhist temple.

"Why is the abbot here?"

The abbot smiled and shoved the oil paper package into his hand: "It's just a little something, junior brother, have a taste. It's homemade, it's much better than what you buy outside."

Guangyuan took it without saying a word.

The abbot said, "Junior brother, I've come to discuss something with you."

"The abbot asked me to come and invite him, saying that he wanted to discuss the Ullambana Festival temple fair on the fifteenth of July this year with his junior brother."

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