Taoist Master, wishing for a sacrifice-based system

Chapter 54 Spending three million to blow up his own lair?! Abbot Jueyuan woke up in the middle of the night, watching the towering flames and spitting out black blood.

The bald man put the canvas bag on the ground.

Unzip the zipper.

Inside the canvas bag were four rectangular objects wrapped with black tape.

Each piece is about the size of two bricks.

He moved very quickly.

Very professional.

Two pieces were affixed to the base of the largest Buddha statue in the center of the main hall.

What he saw was a Taoist deity statue.

In fact, it is a seated statue of Shakyamuni Buddha made of pure gilded bronze.

The temple's prized possession.

Worth eight million.

A sticker was placed on the back of the donation box.

What he saw was a rusty tin box.

In reality, it was a carved sandalwood donation box that had been empty for three months.

The cost was 120,000.

The last piece was affixed to the load-bearing pillar on the east side of the main hall.

The leads are gathered together.

It is connected to a remote detonator.

The effective range of the detonator is 500 meters.

The bald man stood up.

I checked all the connections.

no problem.

"withdraw."

The three people left the main hall.

Walk back the way you came.

This time I didn't get lost.

Because their mission was already accomplished.

The malice has been released.

The formation no longer hindered them.

The three people walked out of the building complex.

We walked to a hillside about 500 meters away.

The bald man glanced back at the building.

under the moonlight.

The outlines of the upturned eaves are clearly visible.

In his eyes, it was a dilapidated Taoist temple.

He raised the remote-controlled detonator.

My thumb is on the button.

Goodbye, little Taoist temple.

66

Press.

Boom!!!

A loud bang.

It tore apart the night sky over Qingyun Mountain.

The explosives were far more powerful than needed to destroy a small Taoist temple of 200 square meters.

Because the items bought for three million are indeed of excellent quality.

Flames shot into the sky.

Gravel flew everywhere.

The shockwave, carrying scorching heat, spread in all directions.

Half of the main hall of Daen Temple was blown into the air during the explosion.

The golden Buddha statue, worth eight million, was blown to pieces.

Copper sheets and gold foil danced in the night sky like fireworks for a few seconds before falling to the ground.

It crashed onto the granite ground in Myanmar.

Ding ding ding.

It was like a shower of metal falling from the sky.

The sandalwood donation box vaporized instantly.

Not even a crumb was left.

The load-bearing column on the east side is broken.

After losing its support, the eastern half of the main hall, like a giant whose spine has been removed, slowly and irreversibly tilted eastward.

Then it collapsed.

boom.

It kicked up dust tens of meters high.

The glazed tiles on the eaves were shattered and scattered all over the ground.

The upturned corner lay crookedly on the ruins like a broken finger.

The entire Mahavira Hall.

Half of it is destroyed.

The sound of the explosion echoed through the valley.

again and again.

Like thunder.

Like a drum.

It sounded like something was roaring underground.

The abbot's room is less than 50 meters away from the main hall.

Jueyuan was awakened by the shock.

I wasn't woken up by the noise.

It was awakened by the shockwave.

His body sprang up from the bed.

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.

Like a fish that has been electrocuted.

Then he fell heavily to the ground.

He braced himself on the ground with his left hand.

He instinctively covered his head with his right hand.

My ears are ringing.

I can't hear anything.

There was only one continuous buzzing sound, like ten thousand bees flying in my ear canal.

He struggled to get up.

Push open the door to the abbot's room.

Then he saw it.

The direction of the Mahavira Hall.

Firelight.

Thick smoke.

ruins.

His main hall.

His gilded Buddha statue.

His temple.

Everything about him.

It is burning.

Jueyuan stood at the door.

Bare feet.

She was wearing a wrinkled white bra.

Hair is disheveled.

His mouth was open.

His eyes were wide open.

The firelight was reflected in his pupils.

It's pulsating.

Distorted.

The color of hell.

His mind went blank at that moment.

Completely blank.

All thoughts, judgments, calculations, and weighings are reduced to zero in that instant.

Only one thought remained.

A burning, searing thought surged up from the depths of my soul.

Why was my temple bombed?!

I spent three million to blow up that dilapidated Taoist temple at the foot of the mountain!

It's not my own temple!

Why was it my turn to be blown up?!

Why?!

The thought raced through his mind three times.

Then a surge of heat welled up in his chest.

It's not blood.

It's something hotter than blood.

It is the destructive burning sensation produced when twenty years of hard work, fifteen years of management, and a lifetime of ambition and greed are ignited in an instant.

Jueyuan opened his mouth.

With a "poof" sound.

A mouthful of blood spurted from his throat.

The blood was dark red.

It has a slightly fishy-sweet smell.

It splashed onto the stone slab at the entrance of the abbot's room.

Under the moonlight, it looked like a blooming, deformed flower.

Then everything went black before his eyes.

My knees buckled.

He fell forward.

Face down.

It hit the cold stone slab.

There was no buffer.

"Bang."

A muffled thud.

It was like a sandbag being thrown on top.

Wu fainted.

Bloodstains slowly seeped onto the stone slab beneath him.

Under the alternating light of fire and moonlight, it was sometimes bright and sometimes dark.

It's like breathing.

It also sounded like a sigh.

On the hillside 500 meters away.

The bald man stared at the direction of the explosion.

Wu looked very satisfied.

"All done. Let's go."

The three of them turned around and walked down the mountain path.

The fog has lifted.

The mountain road was clearly visible.

The moonlight shone on every stone beneath our feet.

They reached the foot of the mountain in less than ten minutes.

I got into the black van that had no license plates.

The engine is started.

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 car lights came on.

The bread truck disappeared into the night along the dirt road.

The bald man sat in the passenger seat.

I lit a cigarette.

I took a deep breath.

Spitting and coming.

Smoke filled the car.

Wu was in a good mood.

Three million in hand.

mission completed.

I'm sorry I went to Thailand.

Wu had no idea what he had exploded.

Wu thought he was bombing that "most insightful business philosophy on the entire internet".

What's truly worth mentioning is that "famous temple with an annual income of nearly 100 million".

Wu believed he had completed his employer's task.

In fact, Wu had completed the arrangements of Heaven.

Wu thought he had received three million.

In fact, the three million was paid by Jueyuan.

It was used to bomb their own temple.

Jueyuan spent three million.

They hired three ruthless thugs.

Crossing mountains and ridges.

They endured many hardships.

All for the purpose of blowing up Qingyunyi.

In the end, it was their own house that was blown up.

Cause and effect, retribution.

Tianye was brought back.

Exactly.

at the foot of the mountain.

Qingyun Temple.

Quietly.

Not a single blade of grass was missing.

The crooked Buddha tree swayed slightly in the moonlight.

The fallen leaves were gently supported by the airflow of the Tranquil Mind Array as they drifted into the air, and carried to the corner of the wall.

The enamel tea mug was placed on a small table next to the armchair.

The tea has gone cold.

The lights in the side hall were off.

Su Nian was still asleep.

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.

She rolled over.

He muttered something.

Then I went back to sleep.

Inside the main hall.

Qin Du was also asleep.

I'm sleeping very soundly.

Breathing evenly.

Wu heard the loud noise that came from halfway up the mountain.

But Wu did not open his eyes.

He just rolled over.

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

I don't know if I'm dreaming.

He was still smiling.