Taoist Master, wishing for a sacrifice-based system

Chapter 30 Stealing My Business? The Buddhist Abbot Has Murderous Intent, and the Underground "Viper" Takes Over a Deadly Order to Smash His Signboard!

the same day.

The abbot's room at Da Ci'en Temple.

Jueyuan sat on a meditation chair, turning a string of old sandalwood prayer beads in his hand, his eyes slightly closed.

The tea in front of me has gone cold.

He didn't drink it.

Faming stood opposite him, holding a printed data report in his hand.

"Abbot."

"explain."

Faming turned to the first page, his tone even more unpleasant than before.

"This is the data for this month."

"The number of pilgrims has decreased by 61% year-on-year."

Jueyuan paused for a moment while turning the prayer beads.

Last month it was 28%.

In just one month, it more than doubled.

Faming continued reciting.

"Donation box revenue has dropped by 58%. The scripture copying class was directly suspended because there weren't enough applicants to start the class. The vegetarian restaurant only had four tables of customers last Wednesday at noon."

"Registration for meditation courses has almost completely stopped."

Faming put down the report, his voice very low.

"Abbot, at this rate—the temple's operating expenses for next quarter will be in trouble."

Da Ci'en Temple is no small temple.

With over sixty resident monks, plus on-staff employees in the kitchen, cleaning, security, and administration, the monthly labor costs alone exceed 800,000 yuan.

In addition, there are fixed expenses for building maintenance, water and electricity, landscaping, and public relations activities, totaling around 1.5 million per month.

When my annual income was nearly 100 million, this expense was nothing.

But now, if income continues to be halved, even paying salaries will become a problem.

Jueyuan opened his eyes.

He did not respond to Fa Ming's words.

Instead, he asked a seemingly unrelated question.

"What has that Taoist priest been doing lately?"

"Qindu?" Faming thought for a moment. "It's similar to before, live streaming and receiving individual customers every day. But recently—"

"What's wrong with you lately?"

"Recently there have been rumors that his Taoist temple seems to have undergone some physical changes."

Jueyuan's brow twitched almost imperceptibly.

"What changes?"

"I don't know the specifics. Several lay Buddhists who have been there said that the courtyard of the Taoist temple is exceptionally clean, and there is a particularly pleasant fragrance in the air. After entering, one's mind becomes particularly clear."

"Someone else said one."

Faming hesitated for a moment.

"Some people say that the fallen leaves in the yard move on their own."

The meditation room was quiet for five seconds.

"It will move on its own?"

"Yes. It's said that they automatically gather in the corner."

Jueyuan's hand stopped again.

This time, it stopped for a long time.

The prayer beads remained still between his fingers.

Faming felt a pang of anxiety as he looked at the abbot's expression. He had followed Jueyuan for fifteen years and had never seen such an emotion in the abbot's eyes before.

It's not anger.

It's not anxiety.

It is fear.

If a wish simply comes true, it can be explained as a coincidence, marketing, or luck.

But if the physical environment of that Taoist temple itself begins to undergo supernatural changes—

Then it's not just a matter of a "celebrity Taoist priest".

That's the real thing.

Jueyuan sat in the meditation chair and remained silent for a full three minutes.

Faming dared not utter a sound.

Three minutes later.

Jueyuan spoke.

The sound was very flat.

It's abnormally flat.

"Fa Ming."

"Disciple is here."

Do you know someone named Sun Hao?

Faming was taken aback.

Sun Hao.

In Yunzhou's underground circles, this name has another name: "Viper".

The operator of Yunzhou's largest underground casino.

Rumor has it that this person is proficient in all kinds of gambling tricks and cheating techniques, from poker to dice to dominoes, he is skilled in none of them.

But what truly earned him the nickname "Viper" was not his gambling skills.

It's not his methods, but his tactics.

None of the people who gambled with him and won ever escaped unscathed.

At the very least, a few fingers were broken.

The most serious one has gone missing.

Faming's back was covered in a layer of cold sweat.

"Abbot—do you know this person?"

"I don't know him," Jueyuan shook his head, "but I do know Fajing."

Fa Jing.

He's the young monk with glasses who we visited Qingyun Temple undercover last time.

Faming vaguely remembered that Fajing did seem to have some dealings with some gray areas in Yunzhou before he became a monk.

"What the abbot means is—"

"I didn't mean anything by it."

Jueyuan closed his eyes again.

The prayer beads began to spin between his fingers again.

"I just feel that the biggest selling point of Qingyun Temple is the phrase 'always granting wishes.'"

"If one day, someone makes a wish..."

"But it failed to achieve one."

"Those four words are no longer valid."

"When the signboard is broken, people's hearts also scatter."

Jueyuan's voice was like a cup of tea that had gone cold.

As for who will make this wish...

"That's not something this humble monk can decide."

"This humble monk is merely a Buddhist monk."

"I can't control the cause and effect of this mundane world."

Faming stood there, his back soaked with cold sweat.

He understood.

I understood every single word.

three days later.

Two o'clock in the afternoon.

An inconspicuous black Volkswagen Passat slowly drove towards Qingyun Temple along the cement road that had been repaired by the municipal government.

The car window was rolled down a crack.

A hand holding a cigarette rested on the car window, the ash scattered by the wind.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The man in the driver's seat looked to be in his early forties, lean, and wearing a dark gray turtleneck sweater with a thin black trench coat over it.

His facial features are very ordinary.

She has the kind of face that you would never notice if you threw her into a crowd.

But his eyes are unusual.

It is an extremely pale, almost transparent gray.

It's like the underlying color left after something has washed away all emotions.

It's cold.

empty.

This person is Sun Hao.

Venomous snake.

He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and got out of the car.

There are no unnecessary movements when walking.

Do not look left or right, do not peek or scrutinize.

They walked straight toward the gate of the Taoist temple.

It's like I've been here a hundred times.

But it was actually his first time here.

Fajing met him three days ago in a very secluded private tea room.

There was no third person in the tea room.

Fajing did not mention Jueyuan's name.

He only said one sentence—

"Brother Sun, there's a place that's been doing incredibly well lately, almost too well. Its biggest selling point is 'every wish can be granted.' Do you think that signboard can still stand if someone makes a wish that can't be fulfilled?"

Sun Hao didn't say anything at the time.

I just smiled.

The smile was faint, like a snake licking the scent left by its prey.

Then he asked a question.

"Free wishes?"

"free."

"Can a prestigious brand be ruined without spending money?"

Sun Hao flicked his cigarette ash.

"I'll go if this is a good thing."

His purpose in coming was very clear: he was not there to make a wish.

It's to ruin the brand.

Make an impossible wish. Let the whole internet see that the "wish fulfillment" claim is fake.

If it fails even once, the myth of Qingyun Temple will be shattered.

Once it's broken, it can never be put back together.

When Sun Hao entered the courtyard of Qingyun Temple, the first thing he noticed was the air.

-

Very clean.

It's abnormally clean.

It's as if the entire courtyard is encased in an invisible glass dome, isolated from the outside world.

He subconsciously took a deep breath.

Then he frowned.

A very faint feeling of discomfort spread from my chest.

It doesn't hurt.

It's boring.

It felt as if an invisible hand was gently pressing on his chest.

not heavy.

But it does indeed exist.