Chapter 169: Not Necessary

Chapter 169: Not to That Extent

"Master He, the Abbot requests your presence."

"Many thanks, Reverend."

He Zangjia cupped his fists in thanks, reining in his usual slovenly, devil-may-care aura, and followed Huitong into Luohan Temple.

His days in Chongqing Prefecture had not been short, yet this was his first time setting foot on Buddhist territory.

The reason was simple: ordinarily, business dealings between the two houses were far too few, and there were even points of friction.

The casinos of the Sichuan-Chongqing Gambling Association also engaged in moneylending, but their clientele consisted mostly of gamblers who had lost until their eyes bled red, and the interest rates they charged were exorbitant; "borrow nine, repay thirteen" was merely standard practice.

In comparison, Luohan Temple's "Incense Money Loans" were far gentler, so many a shrewd gambler would rather go to Luohan Temple to "seek merit" than borrow money inside a casino.

Night had fallen on Luohan Temple, and though it was shrouded in warm yellow lamplight, it was vast, empty, and desolate.

He Zangjia followed behind the monk, passing several monastic courtyards, yet he did not encounter a single moving monk.

It was as if within this grand temple, only he and Huitong existed.

No matter how lightly he placed his feet, the sound of his footsteps remained crisp and clear.

No matter how gentle the lamplight, it cast not a shred of warmth.

Suddenly, a pang of regret stirred in He Zangjia's heart; coming alone into the temple to retrieve someone was, after all, a bit too reckless.

But by now, regret was useless.

Since ancient times, wealth and honor are sought amidst danger; having already crossed Luohan Temple's threshold, he could only walk this path to its end.

He Zangjia drew a deep breath of the biting night wind, gazing at Huitong's broad back.

"Reverend, I wonder how Zhou You fares now?"

"Benefactor, please rest assured. Though that youth committed a heinous sin, the Buddha is merciful and did not take his life. He is currently in the Dharma Hall, awaiting the Abbot's judgment."

It seems these baldies also fear the Sichuan-Chongqing Gambling Association's signboard, daring not to act rashly.

He Zangjia breathed a sigh of relief, then asked: "Pardon the blunt question, but what is the Abbot's stance on this matter?"

"What does the Benefactor mean?"

He Zangjia grinned, "I'm an unrefined roughneck, used to speaking plainly. I'll put it straight: what conditions must be met for your temple to release him?"

Huitong's steps faltered; he turned back to fix He Zangjia with a stare. "That depends entirely on the sincerity of Master He."

"And if the sincerity isn't enough?"

Huitong's face was expressionless. "Then next time, the threshold of Luohan Temple... only the 'Eight Generals of the Thousand Gates' will be qualified to cross it."

Words laced with threat fell into He Zangjia's ears, yet he tasted a different flavor.

These baldies dare not kill me.

He Zangjia's heart settled completely, and he hurriedly said: "Understood, understood. This time, I truly come with a heart full of sincerity to atone before the Buddha."

"To have such a thought, Benefactor, is a great virtue!"

Amidst this exchange, the two had already stepped into the temple's core area; the imposing Dharma Hall stood right before them.

"Master He, please enter."

The instant he crossed the hall's threshold, He Zangjia felt a mountain-like, majestic pressure crash into him face-on.

Robes fluttered, sideburns danced. A tangible pressure pressed down until every bone in his body crackled and popped.

Instinctively, He Zangjia activated the Yinlingquan and Yanglingquan acupoints on both legs.

Instantly, his two legs swelled a full circle, bulging muscles straining his trouser legs tight, locking his body firmly in place.

"Is this Luohan Temple's way of receiving guests?"

He Zangjia wore a half-smile, narrowing his eyes at the Abbot of the Dharma Hall, who sat cross-legged in the center, his expression awe-inspiring without anger.

As his words fell, that overwhelming pressure came to an abrupt, jarringly sudden halt.

He Zangjia, his body leaning slightly forward, was caught off guard and stumbled forward, his right foot crushing a floor tile carved with intricate patterns into powder.

At once, a roar of hearty laughter erupted in the hall; the crowd of warrior monks made no effort to hide the mockery and derision on their faces.

"May I ask what urgent business brings Master He to Luohan Temple in the dead of night?"

Facing the Abbot who asked despite knowing full well, He Zangjia naturally understood the man's intent: he wanted to win back the face he had lost from He Zangjia's hide.

There were likely devices recording his discomfiture all around, intending to use his embarrassment as material to intimidate others in the future.

Look, the Sichuan-Chongqing Gambling Association's 'Tiger Head' doesn't dare act presumptuously before Luohan Temple's warrior monks.

Such petty tricks, He Zangjia knew them inside out.

He merely smiled faintly, pulled his sunken right foot free, dusted off his trouser legs, and said, "We are all reasonable people; let's not speak muddled words. I came today to take Zhou You with me."

Seeing the man's neither-humble-nor-arrogant demeanor, a flame of anger rose in the Abbot's heart, incensed that this 'Tiger Head' still refused to bow and submit even now.

But then he recalled the three million ransom Huitong had mentioned earlier, and he suppressed his ire, his voice deep: "Monks hold compassion in their hearts; though the world disturbs us with evil, we still repay it with goodness."

"You may take the man, but it depends on your sincerity."

He Zangjia laughed loudly, pointing a finger at the youth lying on the floor, his voice ringing out: "Your Luohan Temple disregards the rules, indulging your guest monks in fleecing the helpless."

"And you even laid hands on my Sichuan-Chongqing Gambling Association's man, beating him to this state. Two debts settled together—I'll only charge you one million."

At this moment, the man no longer suppressed that unruly, domineering arrogance on his person; he tilted his chin at the Abbot, whose face had suddenly turned iron-black.

"Does that count as sincere enough?"

"Brazen madman!"

"To dare speak wild words at the Buddhist gate, this poor monk sees you are courting death!"

The Abbot slowly raised a hand, pressing down into the void.

The surrounding warrior monks, boiling with rage, only then swallowed their curses, their eyes still bulging round, glaring viciously at He Zangjia.

"He Zangjia, what is the meaning of this?"

He Zangjia spread his hands, smirking: "Can't even understand human speech now?"

The Abbot frowned tightly. "I permitted you entry just now, which was already giving the Sichuan-Chongqing Gambling Association ample face. I advise you not to refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit."

He Zangjia shook his head. "A pity, I never drink with people who aren't friends."

"Which of the 'Eight Generals' is backing you, giving you the gall to run wild in Luohan Temple?"

The more arrogant He Zangjia acted, the more cautious this Abbot became.

In his view, this 'Tiger Head' card must have been authorized by one of the 'Eight Generals'; otherwise, he would absolutely not dare to clamor so before him.

"Don't chicken out, Big Baldy."

He Zangjia laughed: "No 'Eight Generals'—just me, your grandpa!"

Who the hell are you fooling, a bunch of old cheats!

The Abbot's face darkened with storm clouds. "I don't care what attitude that backer of yours holds; if the Sichuan-Chongqing Gambling Association doesn't apologize, Luohan Temple will absolutely not let this rest!"

"Don't spout that ruthless talk in front of your grandpa. Either pay up and release the man now, or you beat me to death right here."

"Don't you lot push your luck too far!"

The Chief Seat of the Dharma Hall felt a stifling frustration; why did it feel as if he were the one arresting people on the turf of the Sichuan-Chongqing Gambling Guild?

How dare a mere 'Tiger Head' act so arrogantly?

"Cut the crap. If you've got the guts, come and get me!"

He Zangjia slapped his chest, cursing up a storm, "Are all the warrior monks of Luohan Temple this cowardly?"

The surrounding monks were all dumbfounded; no wonder a mere minion dared storm the temple to seize someone—so they were all a damn bunch of suicidal maniacs.

Abruptly, the atmosphere inside the Sutra Hall turned bizarrely eerie.

The Luohan Temple monks, holding every conceivable advantage, fell silent, quietly watching He Zangjia—who should have been a lamb walking into the tiger's maw—jump and rant.

Boom!

From the direction of the temple gate came an earth-shattering boom.

The lights within the temple, once the same hue as the Buddha's radiance, abruptly shifted to a blinding crimson; the alarm bells rang deafeningly, echoing through the entire silent night.

An anxious look crossed He Zangjia's face, and he roared urgently, "Quick, hit me!"

Listening to the rolling thunderous roars approaching from afar, and that soul-shaking, sky-piercing bandit aura, the Chief Seat of the Dharma Hall's expression fell into a stupor, a trace of grievance welling in his heart.

"For such a trivial matter, an 'Eight General'-level figure actually shows up at our doorstep. Is that really necessary?"