Chapter 791: Smiling Buddha

Red Lotus Temple.

Behind the temple, deep in the mountains, a solitary bronze great hall like a monster lay couched among the mountains.

This single great hall is extremely huge, a thousand zhang high, ten thousand zhang long and wide, and its aura is vague throughout; the interior definitely uses an extremely exquisite spatial formation, vastly expanding its internal space.

Before the hall, a stone-paved road a hundred zhang wide leads straight to the front mountain. On the spotlessly clean stone path, a turtle with a carapace two chi square, entirely bluish-gray, crawls slowly left and right.

He crawled from the left side of the stone path to the right, then turned around and crawled back to the left.

Back and forth, never stopping.

On the turtle's back lay a thatch mat three chi in diameter.

On the mat sat a big monk, white and plump, with red lips and white teeth, his whole body delicate and tender skin that could be blown apart, his round face full of smiles.

This monk…… he sat cross-legged on that mat, still over three zhang tall, his waist nearly three zhang as well—a white mountain of flesh, so astonishingly seated on such a small mat, pressing on such a small turtle's back.

Such a huge, fat big monk, with two snow-white delicate large hands, held a one-chi-square scripture, reciting it earnestly. He occasionally moistened his finger with saliva, carefully turning the withered, ancient pages.

Such a small book with such a big monk—together they really feel a bit off.

After the turtle had crawled back and forth an unknown number of times, the big monk nodded and said leisurely, 'Enough, today's ascetic practice lacks only the final step… shall we send the little monk into the hall?'

The turtle strained to stretch its neck, took a heavy breath, a flash of extreme ferocity flickered in its eyes, then slowly turned its body and crawled toward the great hall. He crawled forward step by step, his steps very heavy, very heavy.

'You, you harbor resentment.' The big monk set down his scripture and sighed softly, 'Having resentment is not good.'

'Look, the sky is so azure; the trees, so verdant; the peaks, so beautiful; the sunset, so lovely… this world, beautiful and splendid, the air flowing with the fragrance of 'love'.'

'You must constantly feel the presence of 'love'; you must fill your heart with love for this world, for all its myriad things, for all living beings. Use love to wash away the resentment in your heart, use love to dispel the hatred in your heart, use love to wear down the ferocity in your blood.'

'As long as you one day feel the 'great love of the world,' then you will have boundless seas and open skies, a fine day for the turtle to roam.'

The big monk chuckled, his stout arms strangely elongating as he reached under the mat and gently patted the turtle's head: 'Imagine, freely wandering and playing in the vast expanse of the sea—what a scene full of 'love'!'

The turtle's eyes burst with feral light, and he finally couldn't help but roar: 'You bald bastard… if it weren't for you, I'd be enjoying myself in the sea now! I'll fuck your mother… someday I'll lead the Eastern Sea navy and slaughter your Red Lotus Temple!'

The big monk's smile didn't change; he merely clenched his right hand's five fingers, and with a 'crack,' he forcibly squeezed the turtle's neck, over a chi long, into seven or eight segments.

The turtle's body jerked violently; the big monk's right hand slowly released, and the turtle's neck fell to the ground with a 'pop,' twitching a few times. Then strands of Blood Light flickered on its neck, and the broken bones, meridians, etc., rapidly reconnected, soon returning to normal.

'Come, follow the little monk and say: the air is so fresh, the world so beautiful, our hearts filled with warm love!'

The big monk chuckled slowly: 'Come, follow the little monk and say… hurry, hurry, do you still want the little monk to remove your carapace and use it as an iron pot?'

The turtle, with a grim face, gritted his teeth and muttered: 'The air is so fresh, the world so beautiful… my heart… is filled with love for your old mother!'

The big monk's right hand moved suddenly.

The turtle let out a mournful howl, dark-green blood spraying, its entire shell appearing intact in the big monk's hand, the mat pressing directly onto his flesh, and the turtle's body shuddered violently.

Blood Light surged, and after a breath, the turtle regenerated a piece of carapace on its body.

His body trembling slightly, he carried the big monk step by step toward the great hall.

The big monk stuffed the turtle's shell from his hand into his sleeve, muttering lowly: 'Mm, in the temple's storeroom kitchen, you bastard's shell-pot already has over three thousand servings—really more than enough. Hey, they say turtle shells are useful for divination?'

Especially you, a million-year-old turtle, your shell has even more miraculous uses. Mm, collect more, sell them to those who specialize in divination and fortune-telling—that would also be a good income.

Mm, Red Lotus Temple is big and prosperous, expenses are high. The little monk had wanted to build another hall a few years ago to enshrine his fifty-third patriarch ancestor… but he was penniless for a moment… this, it all relies on you!

The big monk chuckled, lowered his head, and smiled at the turtle gritting its teeth and struggling forward: 'A turtle shell sells for one ingot of gold; I've calculated that a million gold ingots would be enough to construct that hall properly.'

The turtle's body shuddered violently, he closed his mouth and made no further sound.

From the big monk's meaning, they would forcibly excavate a million turtle shells from this turtle's body.

Even though the turtle had some confidence in its own supernatural abilities, facing that terrifying number, it dared not provoke the smiling yet ruthless big monk.

A hero doesn't take an immediate loss, right?

The big monk gave a slight smile, nodded slowly: 'A child can be taught, great goodness… I suppose you have already felt the little monk's affection for you. Hmm, crawl faster.'

The turtle sped up, carrying the big monk in a rush to the hall's gate; he rammed his head into the heavy bronze doors, then made a light hop, leaping over the three-chi-high threshold, and darted into the hall.

Inside the hall, towering bronze lamp stands stood in neat rows, each point of light on the stands flickering, each representing a disciple of the Red Lotus Temple.

Here there are at least ten thousand bronze lamp stands, each bearing tens of thousands of points of light.

All of Red Lotus Temple, including the main temple and its branch institutes, has over a hundred million disciples; such power, it is no surprise it is one of the three guardian sects of the Suichao dynasty.

The turtle carried the big monk as they walked among the lamp stands, the big monk earnestly examining each point of light on the stands.

This is what the big monk does every day.

Seeing these blazing flames, the big monk felt reassured.

Gradually, the turtle reached the hall's depths; with a 'puff,' a point of flame on a lamp stand suddenly extinguished, a wisp of green smoke rising from the wick, like a dying person's spirit bidding the world farewell.

The turtle stared, then burst out laughing: 'Smiling Buddha, your little thief baldy has died!'

The face of the Smiling Buddha, one of the three living Buddhas of Red Lotus Temple, twitched slightly, and the entire hall instantly plunged into darkness.