Volume One, Chapter 347
The white-haired old man invited Zhao Fu into a room and asked, "May I ask where you come from, sir?"
Zhao Fu smiled. "There's no need for you to know that. Also, is all of Extreme Yang Land this barren?"
The white-haired old man nodded. "Most places in Extreme Yang Land are desolate regions, with relatively few plants and animals. We sometimes go hungry, and we also have to regularly offer supplies to the temple."
Zhao Fu asked doubtfully, "You're already like this, yet you still have to offer supplies?"
The white-haired old man said, "Yes. If we fail to hand over a certain amount of supplies, the people of our village must suffer the agony of sun scorching."
Zhao Fu asked again, "Has your temple ever helped you?"
The white-haired old man sighed and shook his head.
Zhao Fu felt that this temple was an evil force that squeezed the people dry and oppressed them, rather than a temple that helped the people and led them toward growth and strength. No wonder Extreme Yang Land had declined; such a temple was nothing less than a malignant tumor.
Zhao Fu asked again, "Have you ever thought about leaving this place?"
The white-haired old man thought for a moment before answering, "No. Our families have lived here for generations. We are used to this place and have deep feelings for it. We are unwilling to go elsewhere to live."
Zhao Fu nodded and said seriously, "If I become the master of the temple, I will certainly change all of this."
A sharp gleam burst from the white-haired old man's eyes as he asked, "Could it be, sir, that you are the one from the prophecy?"
Zhao Fu asked in confusion, "What?"
The white-haired old man said excitedly,