The huge watermelon split down the middle into two halves, which toppled to either side.
Its flesh was bright red and grainy, its black seeds like dots of ink.
Unripe? Not a chance.
Had this melon been picked two days later, it would have ripened enough to split open on its own.
Scarface held his knife, unable to advance or retreat.
The white-robed monk looked at the red-fleshed watermelon on the chopping board and pressed his palms together, his voice unruffled. "Amitabha Buddha. Benefactor, it seems this poor monk will not have to swallow this melon."
"You..." Scarface's face turned the color of pig liver.
He had run roughshod over the streets of Lin'an City, collecting protection money through sheer bluster and a reputation nobody dared challenge. If a melon-selling monk cornered him today, how could he keep leading his lackeys?
When reason failed, brute force would do.
"Fuck you!" Humiliated and furious, Scarface hurled the watermelon onto the ground.
There was a dull thud.
The bright red flesh, mingled with sweet juice, smashed to pulp on the dirt road, splashing red liquid everywhere.
"Monk!" Scarface planted one foot on the smashed melon and pointed the tip of his butcher's knife straight at the white-robed monk's nose. "My rules are the rules! If I say this melon isn't ripe, then it isn't ripe!"
Rather than growing angry at those words, the white-robed monk slowly raised his head.
"Very well."
"Since you insist this melon is unripe, benefactor, this poor monk will not argue. In that case, under our earlier agreement, I need not eat it. Now you must eat it instead."
"What?"
Scarface thought he had misheard and was about to raise his knife and lash out. "You dare tell me to-"
He never finished.
Something uncanny happened.
Scarface's eyes