My humble monastic name is God.

Chapter Title: 029 The Humble Monk’s Name is God

The next day dawned bright and clear, with spring sunlight and not a breath of wind. The magistrate’s court in the city of Shengjing opened its doors once again, but this time, it was not Miss Hong who came to beat the drum of grievance—it was Abbot Fang Rulai of Fahua Temple.

The magistrate, already having received the imperial order to “settle the matter with utmost speed,” let a cold glint flash through his eyes. He slammed the wooden block on his desk and barked, “Who stands before this court? Why do you not kneel upon seeing your magistrate?”

Fang Rulai chuckled inwardly. So, this was to be an intimidation? Unfortunately, he had chosen the wrong opponent.

“Amitabha,” Fang Rulai pressed his palms together and offered a slight nod. “The humble monk’s great name is God, with the childhood name Jesus, English name God, and the monastic name Rulai. As for why I do not kneel? Jie Tang.”

While the crowd was still dizzy from that string of bewildering names, Jie Tang stepped forward with the other young monks. They lined up in a single file, turned around, and revealed the backs of their robes, each embroidered with a single character. From left to right, it read: Homage-To-The-Buddha-Amitabha.

“Homage to Amitabha Buddha! The Buddha said: All beings have their nature; all lives are equal. Those who cultivate the path of Buddhism are without form or color, and naturally need not follow the customs of the secular world.” Fang Rulai’s bearing was solemn and dignified, exuding an air of supreme confidence. “This is common Buddhist knowledge known to all, regardless of dynasty or age. Surely, such an erudite magistrate is well aware of this, is he not?”

“You—!” The magistrate was momentarily speechless, yet he knew that he could not make an issue out of this refusal to kneel.

Behind the magistrate, the scribe tugged discreetly at his sleeve and whispered, “Your honor, haste makes waste. Let us hear what he has come to accuse before seeking a pretext to act.”

The magistrate drew a deep breath, forcing down his impatience, and asked, “Well then, Master Rulai, what matter brings you to beat the drum for justice today?”

“I have come to accuse the Qitian Taoist Temple before the mountain—”

“Insolent monk! How dare you bring charges against the imperial Taoist temple!” Before Fang Rulai could finish, the magistrate struck the gavel again and interrupted her. “Guards, give this monk who dares defy the imperial house twenty strokes of the rod for his disrespect.”

With that, he tossed a command token onto the floor.

Jie Tang immediately stepped forward, shielding Fang Rulai behind him. If anyone wished to lay a hand, they would first have to contend with his fists.

The magistrate grinned. If they resisted, all the better—for refusal would justify doubling the punishment.

Bang! The gavel cracked down again. “You dare refuse punishment in open court? According to the laws of Yao Tian, such defiance is likewise a crime against the court. Guards, seize both of them for immediate—”

He had not yet finished the word “arrest” when Fang Rulai’s voice rang out, loud and commanding. “Brazen and foolish official! This humble monk stands beneath the heavens and upon the earth of Yao Tian. I am raised by Yao Tian, and thus have the right to speak for Yao Tian! That Qitian Taoist Temple, under the pretense of serving the imperial house, turned around and in broad daylight pursued and killed a commoner, leading to her tragic death. By chance, we witnessed this ourselves and have come today to sound the drum and expose the crime. Why does your honor seek to punish me without even asking for the facts? Or is it that you are an accomplice of the temple, seeking to silence us first?”

In just a few sentences, emotion and logic were woven seamlessly together. Outside the hall, the easily swayed commoners were already more than eighty percent convinced.

“That makes perfect sense! They’re always claiming to love the people like their own children, always promising to listen carefully to any grievance from the common folk. But once you step into the court, if the case involves someone rich or powerful, there’s only one outcome: punishment!”

“Exactly! Last time I came to accuse Master Zhou of stealing half a year’s wages, I hadn’t even finished speaking before I was beaten with ten strokes of the rod—left me seeing stars and dizzy for days. Who’d dare try again after that? I was just glad to escape with my life!”

“Ha, this is getting interesting. That Taoist temple was just accused of arson and murder yesterday, and the case isn’t even settled yet—now there’s a new accusation. And the officials keep trying to cover it up… Hmph! Maybe all these rumors are true. Is the temple’s pure reputation just a façade hiding filth inside?”

“I think it’s possible. I heard that the two bodies recovered from the fire yesterday were so badly burned no one could tell who they were! If the only surviving maid dies too, who’s left to keep an eye on the verdict? After a while, when everyone’s forgotten, the authorities can make up any excuse to let them off.”

The murmurs grew louder and more numerous, and the magistrate’s face darkened. He was shocked not only by the boldness of the commoners speaking out in open court, but also by how close they came to the truth.

Arresting Sanfengzi had two purposes: first, to ensure that if another murder occurred, Sanfengzi would have an ironclad alibi, laying the groundwork for clearing his name later; and second, they had indeed sent people to hunt down Miss Hong, the accuser from yesterday. Once she died, with no living witness, the case would simply fade away.

However, none of those sent had yet returned. And after Miss Hong fled through his own back door, not a single rumor of her whereabouts had surfaced.

Could it be…? The magistrate’s sinister gaze locked onto Fang Rulai. Was the “commoner” she spoke of actually that little servant girl? If she had truly witnessed it, had she learned any secret details from that girl?

As the atmosphere in the hall grew ever more restless, the magistrate found himself regaining his composure.

“Esteemed monk, I have been remiss.” The magistrate forced a kindly smile, which so startled Jie Rou that he shrank behind Jie Tang. “I did not sleep well last night, and so my mind has wandered during today’s proceedings. If any words spoken in a moment of emotion have led to misunderstanding, I offer my sincerest apologies.”

“Bring a chair.”

At his command, a clerk brought over a wooden chair for Fang Rulai.

Fang Rulai brushed off the imaginary dust and sat down with easy grace, calmly watching the scribe go to the main doors to quiet the crowd.

The magistrate leaned halfway over his desk. “Revered monk, can you describe the victim?”

“She was a servant girl, who, before her death, told me her childhood name was Honghong.”

It really was her! The magistrate felt both relief and unease. Relief that she was finally dead; unease at what evidence the dispatched men may have left behind.

“And the group who chased her?” the magistrate pressed.

“They all escaped,” Fang Rulai replied.

At this, the magistrate relaxed a little—if they escaped, all the better. Then, with another sharp crack of the gavel, he demanded, “Since they all escaped, on what grounds do you claim they were from the Taoist temple? Young monk, consider carefully—do not try to trifle with this court!”

Thank you for the encouragement, and for the flowers, dear C Banxia / Ru Yan.

This book is first published here.