Chapter 150: Severed Hand in the Buddha Hall

I looked at Jiese’s disbelieving face and said, “Trust me. Just think about the problem now, and you’ll soon see how capable I am.” Jiese walked while pondering, arriving at a high-level meditation room where several monks were already busy preparing cushions, tea, and some fruit. For monks who smoked, cigarettes were also laid out.

At exactly eight o’clock, the senior monks from Famen Temple and the eminent monk from Shaolin Temple appeared. I had a strange feeling about the Shaolin monk—after all, they were the pinnacle of the martial arts world, renowned for their 72 unique skills—so I took a few extra glances. The Shaolin monk walked with steady steps, his hands bony and dry. Unlike the plump, round-faced monks often seen on TV, he seemed to possess genuine spiritual power, capable of exorcising evil and defending righteousness.

A row of middle-aged monks followed, and at the end were a few young, innocent-looking novice monks. I chose the most secluded spot to observe. Later, a few lay disciples—supposedly folk authorities on the *Diamond Sutra*—also entered. A monk with exceptionally long eyebrows gave a brief welcome speech, and then it was Jiese’s turn to step forward for his defense.

The first round was simple: recitation. The long-eyebrowed monk would say a line, and Jiese would respond with the next. They went back and forth for over a dozen exchanges.

The long-eyebrowed monk looked at Jiese approvingly. “Jiese, what do you think about ‘all appearances are non-appearances’? Share your thoughts.” Jiese paled. He had expected free discussion, and my strategy for him was to raise a controversial question that would spark debate among the senior monks. But the plan backfired when the long-eyebrowed monk posed a direct question instead.

Jiese thought for a moment. “All that has form is illusory. The Buddha said that in this world, only the self is real. Everything else—lovers, sons, friends, youth—these identities are all illusions.”

The long-eyebrowed monk glanced at the Shaolin monk, who wore a cryptic smile, and pressed harder, “Is that all?”

A lay disciple beside me shook his head. “This monk’s insight is too shallow. He’s unfit for greater responsibilities.” Jiese, already pale from nerves, was now drenched in sweat, his face glistening under the lights. His eyes, once bright with youthful vigor, now seemed dull.

The senior monks’ sharp eyes noticed the sweat—undeniable proof that he had eaten meat. While novice monks sneaking meat wasn’t unusual, the long-eyebrowed monk, seeing the Shaolin monk’s smirk, felt deeply embarrassed.

“Did you break any precepts during your trip to Guiyuan Temple?” the long-eyebrowed monk suddenly thundered, his voice so forceful it startled even me.

The Shaolin monk stretched out his bony hand. “Amitabha. Eating meat is a minor transgression. But if one aspires to be an abbot in the future…” He trailed off with a sigh.

Jiese dropped to his knees with a thud. “This disciple has broken the precepts.”

*Damn it, Jiese’s really in trouble now*, I thought, silently willing him to just admit to eating meat and leave it at that.

“Jiese, speak truthfully before the Buddha. No lies,” the long-eyebrowed monk roared. Monastic discipline had grown lax—monks could even marry now—but given the conversation between the long-eyebrowed monk and the Shaolin monk, it seemed they were grooming Jiese to become an abbot.

With the Hua family’s influence in Shaanxi, making him an abbot or even the head of the Buddhist Association would be easy. Hence, the strict standards.

Jiese clenched his teeth. “To be honest, Venerable Uncle, in Jiangcheng, I not only broke the precept against meat but also drank alcohol. And… I broke the precept of chastity too.”

*Holy hell, Jiese actually slept with Zhongli?!*

The Shaolin monk feigned shock. “Ah, even the chastity precept?”

The long-eyebrowed monk looked furious. “You’ve truly failed the abbot’s expectations…”

“It wasn’t just chastity. I also… broke the precept against killing… I killed a…” Jiese stammered.

Before he could finish, a scream echoed from outside. A young monk rushed in. “Something terrible has happened! The abbot—the abbot is in trouble!”

The long-eyebrowed monk stood abruptly. “You even broke the precept against killing? After facing temple discipline, you’ll be handed over to the police!”

With that, he led the group toward the abbot’s quarters.

I helped Jiese up. “Relax. You just killed a pig. Let’s see what happened to the abbot—maybe you can redeem yourself.” I glared at him. “You really shouldn’t have mentioned Zhongli.”

Jiese sighed. “The night I left Famen Temple, I stayed in Xinglin Town. A woman in her forties knocked on my door… That’s how I broke the chastity precept. Afterward, she even gave me 78 yuan.”

I sighed. “Just tell me these things. Never mention them to the long-eyebrowed monk.”

Jiese nodded and followed the distant footsteps.

Outside the abbot’s room, guards blocked the entrance. Jiese, still shaken from the scolding, feared punishment—maybe even a beating with wooden rods.

“He’s with me,” I told the monks, pointing at Jiese.

Jiese numbly nodded. “Yes. We’re together.”

A metallic scent of blood filled the chamber. A white cloth covered something, revealing only a severed hand clutching the *Śūraṅgama Sūtra*.

Apart from the hand, there was nothing else. Whether the owner was alive or dead remained unknown.

“Venerable Abbot!” Jiese cried. The long-eyebrowed monk scanned the room but didn’t enter. “Search the premises for suspicious individuals. Call the police immediately—preserve the scene. Do not disturb anything. Venerable Yuantong, please rest for now.”

The Shaolin monk inspected the room and shook his head. “Abbot Donggua’s death is strange. This doesn’t seem like the work of an ordinary person. Given his lifelong battles against demons and ghosts, perhaps vengeful spirits have come for retribution—leaving his severed hand as a warning.”

So the Shaolin monk was named Shi Yuantong, and the abbot was called Donggua.

As Yuantong spoke, young monks began weeping. Jiese’s tears streamed down, though it was odd—how could they confirm Donggua’s death from just a hand? Did Yuantong know something?

The long-eyebrowed monk noticed this too. “Stop crying. Venerable Yuantong, how can we say my senior brother is dead based on just a hand? Besides, the Buddha’s relic safeguards this temple—how could evil spirits kill here?”

Yuantong chuckled awkwardly. “Perhaps I overthought it.” With that, he left.

The long-eyebrowed monk paced, waiting for the police. I studied the severed hand—the *Śūraṅgama Sūtra* in its grip was spotless, no blood staining its cover. The fingernails were clean too. I wanted to examine the wound, but the long-eyebrowed monk and burly monks stood guard.

Jiese, now out of favor, had to wait for the police. News of the abbot’s severed hand hadn’t spread yet—some monks remained unaware.

Outside, the grand boulevard blazed with lights, as if tonight’s death meant nothing.

A cold night wind blew, scattering the first heavy snow of winter—earlier than usual. The local police arrived swiftly. Given Famen Temple’s religious significance, the case was escalated from the township to the county, then to the city and provincial levels. If it involved religious issues, it might even reach the national bureau. But for now, local officers handled it.

The police conducted basic interviews, starting with the monks on duty near the abbot’s quarters. An older officer took notes.

The long-eyebrowed monk explained, “Tonight, my senior brother asked me to test Jiese’s progress. He returned to his room to study the *Śūraṅgama Sūtra*, contemplating the line, ‘Without meditation, there is no wisdom; without wisdom, no meditation.’ The examination began at eight. Fifteen minutes later, a disciple reported the incident. I left his room at 7:50. The crime must’ve occurred between then and 8:15.”

The officer asked, “Venerable, is this hand Abbot Donggua’s?”

The long-eyebrowed monk chanted “Amitabha” and examined it. “The nail size and arm shape match my senior brother’s. But similarities exist in the world. With modern technology, DNA testing from his hair—perhaps from his clothes or bedding—would be more accurate.”

The officer nodded. “Who was on duty? Who found the hand first?”

The duty monk replied, “The room was brightly lit. After the Venerable left, I assumed the abbot was absorbed in scripture and wouldn’t need me, so I used the restroom. When I returned, I heard noises inside. I opened the door and saw… the hand holding the sutra. The shock made me scream.”

“What time was that?” the officer asked.

The monk shook his head. “I didn’t check the exact time.”

After interviewing several monks, it seemed no one had seen the abbot leave his room or approach it after he entered.

Yuantong’s theory of a demonic murder gained traction among some novices. The long-eyebrowed monk strictly forbade such talk, threatening ten strikes of the rod for gossip. Jiese whispered to me, “That means ten broken rods.”

I noticed something odd—a page had been torn from the *Śūraṅgama Sūtra* in the hand.

The hand itself was strange. Based on my experience, the skin’s discoloration suggested it had been severed days ago. A freshly severed hand wouldn’t look like this.