Volume One: The Young Monk Returns to Secular Life Chapter Fifty-Three: The Lin Residence

On the day Xiao Yan returned to the temple, the abbot finally enjoyed a peaceful meal, and the weight that had hung heavy on his heart eased considerably. Gazing at the room overflowing with gold and silver treasures, his heart bloomed with joy. He counted them several times, meticulously tallying every piece. When Xiao Yan mentioned there would be two more carriages arriving tomorrow, it was a surprise beyond belief—the young man truly kept his word.

Yet, as this thought crossed his mind, the abbot could not help but feel a tinge of worry. The sheer amount of money was unsettling, weighing heavily on his conscience. How had Xiao Yan managed to acquire such wealth? Surely he hadn’t done anything untoward? It seemed impossible to amass so much money in just a few days away from the mountain, even more than a bandit’s spoils.

Had he truly strayed from the righteous path? The abbot grew concerned. Nevertheless, with the northern drought worsening and rumors of famine filling the land, he could not afford to dwell on it; he needed to get the money to the afflicted as soon as possible. Xiao Yan’s affairs would have to wait.

Thus, the abbot spent the night composing a letter. Its contents were as follows:

“To the Minister of Revenue, Qin Shirong, personally.

Today, Golden Mountain Temple received charitable donations, counted in person.

Gold: Two thousand nine hundred and forty taels.
Silver: Two thousand four hundred taels.
Tomorrow an even greater sum shall arrive; once the donations are complete, I will immediately order Hui Ren to personally deliver them to the north with utmost urgency.”

The abbot paused here, frowning in thought, then continued:

“Donor of the above funds: Xiao Yan.
Golden Mountain Temple, Abbot De Wu, respectfully.”

Having finished, he breathed out softly. Though this sum could not resolve the entire disaster, it would save thousands of lives—a deed of immeasurable merit. Few elders of Golden Mountain Temple could rival such virtue. With this thought, he opened a small ledger and recorded the event within—a ledger kept to guide the selection of the temple’s next abbot.

“Yet... is he truly suited for the role of abbot?” The abbot shook his head, recalling Xiao Yan’s characteristic smile. He sighed, ready to extinguish the lamp and retire.

Just then, Elder Hui Ren slipped through the window of the meditation chamber, accidentally landing on the abbot’s bed.

“Hehe... sorry, the door was locked,” Elder Hui Ren scratched his bald head in embarrassment.

“Hui Ren, how are things in the north?” The abbot showed no anger, instead asking with genuine concern.

As the abbot could not leave the temple, Elder Hui Ren had gone in his stead to assist in the disaster area.

“It’s dire... We can only care for the old, the weak, the sick, and the disabled. The young haven’t had a grain of rice for days... Even so, the food won’t last much longer. The court’s relief grain has yet to arrive; Minister Qin is beside himself with worry...”

Elder Hui Ren’s eyes grew moist as he spoke.

“Then... you must depart at once, take this money and buy grain to send north!” The abbot nodded, his face still shadowed by concern.

“It’s useless... What Lin Dong brought barely scratches the surface—the number of refugees is overwhelming. Many have begun organizing to flee south...” Elder Hui Ren shook his head, but then his eyes fell on the mountains of gold and silver filling the abbot’s room.

He was stunned.

The abbot stood, dusting off his robes with pride, about to speak when Hui Ren interrupted.

“Abbot... Did you return to your old ways? But even your backside couldn’t be worth this much... Perhaps you should take me along...” Elder Hui Ren was bewildered.

“Fool! This... see for yourself,” the abbot nearly fainted with anger and handed over the letter he had just written for the Minister of Revenue.

Elder Hui Ren took the missive and read it carefully. The text was brief and clear; he finished quickly. His eyes lingered on the line, “Donor: Xiao Yan.”

“Xiao Yan?” Elder Hui Ren, having been in the north for disaster relief, knew little of recent events at Golden Mountain Temple.

“Yes.” The abbot nodded. “In fact, what Lin Dong brought was also at Xiao Yan’s direction—you should know that, right?”

“Yes, that much is clear. But this Xiao Yan... I never would have guessed...” Elder Hui Ren fell silent, gazing at the gold and silver before him, tears streaming down his face.

Only those who had witnessed the disaster firsthand knew it for the hell on earth it was... Not a root nor blade of grass could be found. Passing through some streets, he had seen people with mouths stuffed full of clay, eyes wide open, dying as they walked. Many had begun to exchange children for food... Each night, Elder Hui Ren awoke from nightmares of these scenes.

“Good! Good!” was all Elder Hui Ren could utter, his mind heavy with thought.

No one knew the complexity of his feelings at that moment. The silver brought happiness, but the thought that some would still starve robbed it away.

The meditation chamber fell silent for a long while.

At last, the abbot drew a paper from his sleeve and handed it over. “There’s also this... It was brought by Xiao Yan as well. I hear it’s a reliable message.”

Elder Hui Ren frowned and took the paper, glancing down. On the white sheet was a strange skull emblem and a few short lines:

“Order from the Demon Heaven Alliance! On the first day of September, forces from east, south, west, and north will assemble to slaughter Golden Mountain Temple and seize Fahai’s remains!”

“Hmph! These scoundrels! Even now... Fahai’s remains! So the secret has fallen into the hands of the curious... Fahai... Alas...” Elder Hui Ren scowled and spoke angrily.

“Just make some quiet preparations for this. No need to worry—merely clowns. Focus on disaster relief.” The abbot nodded.

“Understood.” Elder Hui Ren nodded and began to prepare for his urgent journey north.

That same night, at the Lin family estate.

A servant rushed in through the front gate, clutching a letter.

“Li Si! You’ve returned? Did you find Young Master Lin Dong?” An old man with a white beard sat in the main hall and called out as the servant entered.

“Yes... I found him... But... Young Master Lin Dong...” Li Si struggled to find words.

“Why hasn’t that boy come home yet?” Lin Chen, the Grand General who guarded the state, spoke with commanding authority.

“He said there’s something important to do at Golden Mountain Temple, and he won’t return home for now...” Li Si hesitated, unsure whether to reveal that Lin Dong had become a monk.

“Foolish child! With the northern drought, the court needs every able hand, and he’s off seeking matchmaking instead of coming home? Does he have no regard for his old father?” Lin Chen, known for his fiery temper, was enraged.

He recalled that morning at court, how the old fox Lu Yiping kept recommending his own son to accompany Minister Qin Shirong north for disaster relief...

Bah!

Worst of all, Lu Yiping kept glancing over at him in the assembly—a blatant provocation.

His son had merely passed the imperial exam as a scholar—was that something to flaunt?

Thinking of this, and then of his own dim-witted son Lin Dong...

He was nearly beside himself with anger.

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