"Senior brother!"
Two monks wearing gray short jackets and with shaved heads squeezed out of the crowd.
They moved with lightning speed, rushing to the mad monk from the left and right! One person covered his mouth, while the other twisted his arms behind his back!
"I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry everyone!" The monk who had been covering his mouth looked up, forcing an apologetic smile. "This fellow monk suffered some trauma a few days ago and his mind isn't clear! He's just talking nonsense! He's disturbed you all!"
"Yes, yes! You're just causing trouble for the temple!" the monk with his arms tied behind his back chided, his tone impatient and scolding. "I'll drag you back to take your medicine!" The two worked together seamlessly, their strength immense.
The mad monk's frail body was firmly restrained, and he could only let out muffled groans. His bloodshot eyes held even deeper fear and pleading!
He struggled desperately, his withered feet leaving several gray marks on the ground.
Two monks grabbed the madman and dragged him toward the side gate of the temple, completely ignoring his struggles.
The people of Liushutun breathed a sigh of relief.
"So he's gone mad..."
"You scared me..."
"Poor thing..."
At this moment, several people walked out of the temple gate.
He was also wearing old gray clothes, had a shaved head, and a gentle smile on his face.
"Esteemed guests, you must be tired from your journey!" A middle-aged monk, who was leading the group, bowed slightly and said in a kind tone, "Please come in! The temple has prepared some light porridge for you to eat and relieve your fatigue!"
"You must be exhausted! Come in and rest!"
"Coming to Ciyun Temple is like arriving home! The Bodhisattva is merciful and will surely protect you and help you escape from suffering!"
The tense nerves of the people in Liushutun instantly relaxed with these warm smiles and the comforting words, "You're home!"
A wave of exhaustion and the bitterness of surviving a disaster washed over me.
"Thank you... thank you, Master!" Aunt Zhao's voice choked with emotion.
"May the Bodhisattva protect me..." Old Wang breathed a long sigh of relief, feeling the aches and pains all over his body lessen.
Even the village chief, who had been on high alert, relaxed as he watched the disaster victims moving about in an orderly fashion in the temple and heard their kind words.
Upon entering the temple, a mixture of cheap incense, sweat, and some indescribable stuffy smell hit you.
The procession walked along the smooth stone path.
Passing through a doorway, one enters a spacious courtyard with a covered walkway, where dim light suddenly descends.
It wasn't because it was dark, but because the tall walls on both sides of the corridor were covered with huge, intensely colored murals! The colors were distorted and bizarre, exuding an ominous aura in the dim light.
Left wall: A massive crater, shaped like a twisted coin eye! Inside the volcano, countless naked, emaciated people writhe! Burning golden lava pours over them! Scorched and smoking!
Beside it, in blood-red words: "Those who are stingy and unwilling to give will be consumed by karmic fire!"
On the right wall: a pot of boiling oil is churning! A row of people kneel beside it! Their mouths are agape, blood streaming from their empty eye sockets! Beside them, a hideous little demon uses red-hot iron tongs to clamp their tongues! It's about to pull them out!
The words, written in blood-red, read: "Those who utter evil words and question the Three Jewels will be eternally condemned to the boiling oil!"
The crowd fell silent instantly! Even the children's cries were silenced.
The murals extend all the way.
Ahead, the screen wall depicts cracked earth, withered forests, dead livestock, and crawling, emaciated human figures. A cold, giant eye stares from the sky.
Below, those crawling figures were half-buried in the burning, scorched earth! Bone claws stretched out from the scorched earth, scratching at them! The dead bodies were being dragged away by little devils!
Below the giant eye, the blood-red words were terrifyingly menacing: "All the suffering in the world is due to past karma! If you do not make offerings, hell will appear!"
In the center of the mural, at the feet of a person holding an empty bowl, two paths emerge: one narrow, glittering with gold, leading to a distant Buddhist temple with its gates slightly ajar and gleaming with golden light; the other wide, pitch black, leading straight to a cauldron of boiling oil, a mountain of knives, and an ice cave!
The team seemed to be nailed to the spot, unable to move.
The fear instilled by the mural far surpassed that of last night's battle! It was a harbinger of torture that pierced the soul!
"Amitabha..." The monk leading the way spoke calmly, as if he hadn't seen the murals at all. "Don't be misled by appearances, benefactors. The sea of suffering is boundless, offerings are the boat. Proceeding forward is liberation." He gestured for them to proceed, his gentle smile appearing strangely eerie against the backdrop of the murals.
Jiang Chan watched all of this with a blank expression.
The cold, overhead view from the probe last night was nothing compared to the immersive impact of being there right now.
Under immense psychological pressure, the team was propelled forward by an invisible force.
After passing through the suffocating, hellish corridor, a vast stone-paved square suddenly opens up before you.
At the end of the square, the majestic hall cast a heavy shadow in the dim light.
In the center of the square, a high platform stands.
On the platform, an old monk with a ruddy complexion and wearing a brand-new bright yellow robe sat cross-legged with his eyes slightly closed, his appearance solemn and dignified.
In front of him was a huge, dark red wooden donation box, its opening wide like a hungry mouth.
The area around the high platform was densely packed with disaster victims kneeling down!
They lay prostrate on the ground, their foreheads pressed against the cold stone slabs, their posture humble and extremely devout.
The entire square was silent, save for the old monk's deep and penetrating voice echoing:
"A single grain of rice, a drop of water, are seeds of blessings!" The old monk's voice was not loud, but it clearly penetrated everyone's ears. "If you give away a mouthful of food today, the Buddha will bestow a bushel of rice tomorrow!"
He slowly opened his eyes, his compassionate gaze sweeping over the disaster victims below the stage. "Don't say your stomach is empty now; it's because your granary was empty in your past life!"
His voice suddenly turned stern, “If you fill the granary before the Buddha in this life, you will have vast fields of rice and grain in the next!” He raised his withered finger, pointing it towards the sky, then abruptly pointed it at the disaster victims below the stage, “The Buddha sees all beings clearly; whoever gives, receives, without the slightest discrepancy!”
"By being stingy with a single seed now, you are cutting off the future of thousands of acres of seedlings! You are cutting off your own path to survival!"
The group from Liushutun stopped at the edge of the square, rooted to the spot by the blatant threat to their survival intertwined with illusory promises.
Jiang Chan looked at the disaster victims kneeling and prostrating below the stage.
Their expressions were peculiar; they lacked the sorrow, despair, or numbness commonly seen in disaster victims, instead displaying an almost stagnant calm! A hollow "serenity" as if they had been completely emptied of their senses, leaving only an unconditional response to the voices on stage.
Like a puppet controlled by invisible threads.
It's been a long time since I've heard such... "professional" brainwashing. A cold sneer flashed in Jiang Chan's eyes, and she even wanted to laugh a little.
In the apocalypse, the law of the jungle is written all over people's faces. But here, knives are wrapped in sugar, and promises are made with human blood.
The methods weren't sophisticated, but in the face of absolute despair and hunger, simplicity and brutality proved effective.
Her gaze swept over the people kneeling around the old monk, then glanced at the people from Liushutun beside her...
Aunt Zhao's eyes were glazed over as she looked at the "peaceful" disaster victims, then at the "compassionate" old monk on the platform, her lips moving slightly. Old Man Wang stared at the donation box, his fingers unconsciously stroking the grain sacks. Even the village chief's brow was deeply furrowed, as if he were struggling with something…
Perhaps... being deceived willingly in exchange for a moment of false peace isn't so bad...
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