Yang Guang's Ruthlessness, Cihang Monastery Spitting Blood (End)

"A tyrant, a tyrant indeed."

In the square before the largest and most luxurious temple in Yangzhou, where worshippers usually streamed endlessly and incense coils were everywhere, countless monks now lay in pools of blood. The abbot's pristine white kasaya had been dyed crimson. Looking around at his fallen disciples, the abbot pointed at Yuwen Huaji not far away and roared unwillingly.

"Kong Xing, the Buddhist sect truly has some nerve. You actually dared to claim you would choose the emperor on Heaven's behalf. How utterly absurd." Yuwen Huaji snorted coldly and did not strike again. His opponent was already gravely wounded and would not survive. There was no need to finish him off.

"Oh? Look at this. Kong Xing, is this what your Buddhist sect calls the Fourfold Emptiness?" Just as Yuwen Huaji was about to say more, he spotted the contents of the numerous chests soldiers were carrying out of the temple. A deeply mocking smile appeared on his face.

At the same time, Kong Xing naturally saw the scene as well. The man who had just been loudly calling Yang Guang a tyrant shut his eyes and continuously murmured Buddhist chants under his breath. Though he might have had a thousand words to say, none could leave his mouth now.

The chests carried out by the soldiers were all filled with gold, silver, and treasures. Entire chests of gold, silver, and gemstones of every color were arranged across the square, instantly making it glitter dazzlingly. The stench of blood was greatly overwhelmed by the gleaming wealth.

The surrounding soldiers, officers, and even Yuwen Huaji could not help revealing greedy expressions as they looked at those riches. If not for his concern over a certain person's presence, Yuwen Huaji would likely have pocketed all that wealth himself.

Likewise,