Chapter 227: The Downfallen Fusheng
Xuzhou, Picheng, Golden Buddha Temple in the city.
The sound of a door slamming shut left Monk Fusheng outside.
Monk Fusheng looked at the jujube red gate studded with gold nails. He raised his hand, wanting to knock on the door, but then put it down again.
What could he say?
Anything he said would only be self-humiliating.
Kicked out of the temple he had grown up in, he felt like a stray dog.
He stood by the gate for a long time, thinking about many, many things. Finally, he sighed, tears welling up in his eyes. Carrying his bundle, wearing his old monk robes, he turned and left the entrance of the Golden Buddha Temple.
He left the temple he had lived in for over thirty years.
Recalling the experiences of recent years, he felt it was all a bit surreal.
The Golden Buddha Temple’s influence was mainly in Yong, Ji, and Yan Provinces. In a place like Xuzhou, they only had a small temple, and collecting alms was relatively easy.
Even though he was over thirty years old and not yet a See the Truth martial artist, with his status as a deacon of the Golden Buddha Temple, wherever he went, he was respectfully addressed as “Buddha Master.”
But in recent years, many monks from other Golden Buddha Temples in the north had arrived. It was said that the Yellow Heaven Path in the north was very powerful, and the monks of the Golden Buddha Temple could no longer stay in Yi and Yan Provinces.
They had to travel south, arriving in Qing and Xuzhou, places they once considered backwaters.
Those monks were all Qi Sea and Zhoutian cultivators. At first, the abbot of the Picheng Golden Buddha Temple was unwilling to accept them. But Master Eight Sufferings, the head abbot of the Golden Buddha Temple, personally issued a Buddhist decree, so their Picheng Golden Buddha Temple had to take them in.
It should be noted that the abbot of their Picheng Golden Buddha Temple was only a Qi Sea cultivator. With so many highly skilled martial artists arriving at once, it was like having a bunch of superiors descend upon them.
Having too many superiors is always a problem.
Because they felt they couldn’t just eat in the temple every day and do nothing.
They had to create value!
But they were all high-level martial artists. Discussing contracting street districts with the City Lord of Picheng?
That was too tiring, involved fighting and killing, carried risks, and required groveling. No, no, no!
Collecting alms themselves was too demeaning. No, no, no!
So they had to use their expertise, which was to spread mature and advanced temple management experience to peripheral temples like the one in Picheng.
Things like “group competition,” “alms collection assessments,” “elimination of the bottom performers,” strictly following attendance records, four roll calls a day, and evening meetings to share alms collection experiences.
In just half a month, these simple changes made everyone in the temple miserable.
Every day, they woke up at a quarter past Mao hour （around 5:15 am）, first ran ten laps around the temple, then had a meeting before breakfast in the dining hall, and finally finished eating at three quarters past Chen hour （around 8:00 am）.
Then came the morning’s exhaustive alms collection. After lunch and a half-hour nap, they continued their exhaustive alms collection.
Only when You hour was almost over （around 7:00 pm） could they return to the temple. After a simple meal, they would gather again, divided into teams, to hold meetings and share their alms collection experiences.
The meetings would continue until a quarter past Hai hour （around 10:00 pm）, after which they could finally go to sleep.
This was a complete day.
Day after day, day after day, it seemed endless.
A city is only so big, and there are only so many people to collect alms from.
Before, the Golden Buddha Temple only collected copper coins. After these superiors arrived, they put forward the slogan, “As long as you dare to think, you can collect.”
“We come from the north, where we all led teams to achieve alms collection targets of hundreds of taels of gold. We came here to help everyone grow together! We won’t cheat you!”
“If you don’t even dare to think about collecting gold, how can you collect gold?”
“As long as you dare to think, anything is possible!”
“You have to shout out loud, ‘I can!’ This will give you strength!”
I can your mother!
Fusheng cursed in his heart after hearing the bullshit from these idiotic monks.
✿✿✿
But he was no match for them.
So, a few months later, Fusheng was eliminated as a bottom performer.
But he had worked very hard to collect alms. However, he didn’t have the high cultivation level of his other senior brothers, who were full of energy every day and could ruthlessly extort money. Nor did he have the skills of other senior brothers who could flatter and curry favor with the wealthy families in the city.
He was just an ordinary monk who hadn’t even reached the See the Truth level. The monthly alms collection targets were too high. In just a few months, he had worked so hard that his hair had turned white and his face had aged considerably.
His originally slightly plump body had become so thin that his ribs were showing.
“Fusheng, it’s just a measly ten taels of gold alms collection target. You haven’t completed the task for three consecutive months. How can you let others see you, see your team members, like this?”
“Others are collecting dozens of taels of gold every month and can complete the target. You can’t even complete a ten taels of gold target. Fusheng, you are a burden!”
A burden, my ass!
Before you idiots came, we were collecting a few dozen or a few hundred wen every month and living a good life!
We never saw any of that alms money. Isn’t it all in your pockets?
But Fusheng could only say these things in his heart. If he said them out loud, he would be dead!
Recently, people had occasionally disappeared from the temple.
They didn’t ask, and there was no explanation from above. At first, they just thought they had gone out to collect alms. But Fusheng accidentally discovered… their clothes in the suburbs.
Their clothes were being worn by beggars.
Their fate was self-evident.
“I’ve worked very hard!” Fusheng knelt before the Zhoutian monk and said, “Please, Master, spare my life!”
Being a burden meant being useless.
“Sigh! I know you are an old member of this temple, having grown up here since childhood. But in our Golden Buddha Temple, everything is about money, everything is about profit.”
“Without money, how can we spread the Buddhist teachings? Without money, how can we reflect the value of us monks?”
“Fusheng, leave! This is all I can do for you!” the Zhoutian monk said slowly.
“Ah? Leave, where can I go?” Fusheng was struck by lightning upon hearing this news, tears streaming down his face.
He had grown up in the temple since he was a child. Where could he go?
“You can go anywhere! But don’t talk about anything that happened in the Golden Buddha Temple. If you do, no one will protect you!” the Zhoutian monk said.
“…” Fusheng fell silent for a moment, then kowtowed to the Zhoutian monk and said, “Thank you, Master! Thank you, Master!”
The Zhoutian monk hummed softly, and Fusheng was allowed to leave.
His savings in the temple were confiscated, said to be compensation for losing to the opposing team in the “group competition.”
His clothes were also gone, given to his teammates.
He only had one old robe, a Buddhist scripture, and a few worn-out clothes.
Thank you?
Walking down the road away from the Golden Buddha Temple, Fusheng lowered his head in thought.
What am I thanking him for?
What should I thank him for?
And he still has to say thank you!
