Catch Them All in One Net and Kill Every Last One-Grass Already Grows on the Provincial Governors' Graves!

The Fortune and Prosperity Zen Temple stood atop a mountain, its red walls and upturned eaves stretching for five miles. Halls crowded its grounds, its grandeur reaching the very pinnacle.

The morning bell rang, its echoes lingering for miles around.

Inside the resplendent abbot's quarters, two hall pillars had been forged from gold, and even the floor was paved with gold. Luxury had been taken to its utmost extreme.

Eight girls in disheveled dresses cowered in a corner, their cheeks covered in whip marks.

The kindly-looking abbot held a long whip and declared with righteous solemnity:

"Our Buddha is merciful and has granted you the privilege of enjoying this humble monk's immaculate body. Serve me well, and I shall ensure you receive the blessings of a bond with the Buddha and live as long as heaven itself."

"Quickly, crawl over here like dogs. This is an act of devout worship."

Driven half-mad by torture, the girls began writhing across the floor.

The abbot closed his eyes, raised his whip, and lashed them.

"Abbot, disaster has struck!"

A panicked voice came from outside the hall.

Looking displeased, the abbot draped a red kasaya over himself and went outside.

The chief seat was deathly pale. Forgetting even to invoke Amitabha, he said in a trembling voice:

"The major Jianghu factions have all come up to the temple. There are more than eight hundred martial fighters..."

"What sort of conduct is this, panicking like that?" The abbot cut him off at once, then said with composed assurance:

"Have they come begging for vegetarian meals? Give them alms!"

"If they dare force their way in, have our eight thousand warrior monks resist with their staffs. Then go to the Governor's Yamen and report that the Jianghu factions are openly rebelling!"

He kept the skies