Monks Are Hard to Kill

"That Flower Monk."

The driver spoke.

"Flower Monk? Oh, I know. The one who came back from the dead."

Liu Zheng suddenly understood.

Every chop sent lotus flowers drifting all over him. Calling him Flower Monk did seem fitting enough.

"Can he move now?"

He asked.

"No. He was just glaring at me, probably trying to kill me with his eyes."

The driver teased.

"What? He dared glare at you, Colonel? I'll go teach him a lesson right away."

Liu Zheng said indignantly, then climbed out of the tank.

Gripping the Cleaver, he stepped across the lava-scorched ground and walked toward Monk Dade one step at a time.

Monk Dade was still seated cross-legged, but there was none of the usual serenity on his face. It was utterly twisted with fury.

"Already getting worked up? Your Buddhist cultivation isn't up to scratch."

Liu Zheng mocked.

Monk Dade had a thousand cutting retorts in his heart, but aside from chanting sutras, he could not speak. Liu Zheng could not receive electronic communications either, so he could only bottle them up in his artificial vocal cords, furious enough that his CPU was about to burn out.

"At that time, the holy maiden employed many expedient means to persuade and guide her mother, causing her to form right views. Yet the maiden's mother had not yet developed complete faith. Before long, her life ended, and her soul fell into Avīci Hell."

He was anxious, but the Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva's Fundamental Vow Sutra pouring from his mouth did not falter in the slightest, displaying his formidable skill at chanting scriptures.

"I don't know whether you'll fall into Avīci Hell, but your life is definitely about to end."

Liu Zheng raised the Cleaver, scraped it twice against a tentacle, and aimed it at Monk Dade's neck.