Offending the Deity

As Yang Fan pondered this, his gaze swept across the surroundings, eventually landing on an old beggar, hunched on the ground at the entrance of the temple, clad in tattered garments.

"Ah, it's you!" Yang Fan's eyes gleamed with a sudden inspiration, solidifying his decision.

"Esteemed lords, please show mercy and grant this poor soul a few coins! Consider it a way to accumulate virtue…" The old beggar prostrated on the ground, extending a battered iron bowl as he beseeched passersby.

Occasionally, a traveler would toss him a few coins. Despite his ragged attire, dirt-smeared face, and unkempt hair, the old man's eyes lit up like a thief's whenever coins clinked into his bowl.

**Clang!**

Suddenly, a hefty silver ingot fell, sending his iron bowl tumbling over.

Silver! A grand piece of silver!

The old beggar's excitement surged, his eyes sparkling as they fixated solely on the sizable ingot.

Such a treasure could sustain him for years—how could he not be exhilarated?

"Thank you, kind sir! Thank you!" the old beggar exclaimed, scrambling to retrieve the silver ingot.

But just then, a young man reached out, snatching the silver for himself.

"Ah! My silver!" The beggar's fury ignited as he glared at the young man.

"Do you desire this ingot?" Yang Fan replied with a smiling demeanor. "If you assist me in a small task, I'll give you ten more!"

There's no such thing as free gifts from the heavens!

The old beggar sighed, a hint of wariness in his tone. "What is it that you want me to do?"

"Rest assured, it's not perilous, merely requires a bit of audacity," Yang Fan replied nonchalantly.

"Audacity?" The beggar pounded his chest, speaking with conviction. "Fear not, good sir! That is my forte—absolutely no problem."

"Very well, lean closer…" Yang Fan chuckled, lowering his voice to whisper a few instructions into the old beggar's ear.

"This… is it really that simple?" The beggar asked, incredulous.

"Indeed, as simple as that. But you must follow my instructions precisely. If you succeed, you'll have no worries for the rest of your life…" Yang Fan stated with an air of indifference.

"Agreed, it's a deal!" The old beggar nodded eagerly, pocketing the silver ingot before swaggering toward the temple.

Yang Fan trailed leisurely behind him.

"Stop! Halt!" Soon, a monk intercepted them.

"This is a pure land of Buddhism. Unauthorized individuals must depart promptly to avoid desecrating this sacred temple!"

"Pah! Pah! Pah!" The old beggar erupted in fury. "How dare you discriminate against me? Buddhism preaches the salvation of all beings—are beggars not worthy to enter the temple or be practitioners of the faith?"

"Fellow townsfolk, come forth and judge!" The old beggar clamored.

Before long, a crowd gathered, echoing the beggar's sentiments. "Little monk, let him in! Who says a beggar cannot pay respects to the Buddha?" someone encouraged.

"But…" The young monk hesitated, caught in a dilemma.

"Do you doubt that I can afford incense? Open your eyes and see what I hold!" The beggar displayed the impressive silver ingot in his palm.

What a magnificent piece of silver!

Gasps of astonishment rippled through the crowd.

"Do you see this? Open your eyes wide!" The old beggar proclaimed, strutting about like a nouveau riche.

"Um…" The monk was left speechless, grappling with the absurdity of the situation—how could a beggar possess more wealth than himself?

"Hmph! You lowly creature!" The beggar strutted past, entering the temple as the monk sighed, contemplating whether he should consider begging himself.

Upon entering the temple, the old beggar went through some motions, purchasing candles and incense before, at Yang Fan's behest, making his way to the statue of Guanyin, the Goddess of Mercy.

Before the statue, two rows of devotees formed, allowing two individuals to kneel simultaneously in worship.

The old beggar joined the line to pay his respects, struck by the revelation that even he could worship at the altar.

The altar had two cushions, enabling the common folk, even a beggar, to burn incense and pray to the Buddha!

The monk overseeing the altar glanced at the old beggar, noticing the incense he held. He said nothing, allowing the old man to proceed without obstruction.

With a thud, the old beggar knelt, his expression one of heartfelt sincerity as he lit a stick of incense and lamented, "Oh great and compassionate Guanyin, please grant me relief from hunger and worry. Woe is me…"

Though onlookers found the scene peculiar, they could empathize with his plight.

Yang Fan concealed a smile. Although the old beggar cried with fervor, he felt no genuine devotion, fixated solely on receiving the promised silver from Yang Fan.

As the incense burned, Yang Fan carefully observed. Despite the old beggar's act of worship, there was no trace of the spiritual energy he had previously sensed.

"Just as I thought…" Yang Fan mused inwardly, affirming his earlier theory that insincere worship would not elicit the mystical energy from the divine.

"Unbelievable!" Suddenly, the old beggar erupted with fury. "I am so devout and respectful towards you—why do you still let me suffer? Do you honor the offerings I bring you?"

He trembled, pointing an accusatory finger at the dignified and gentle statue of Guanyin, cursing vehemently.

According to Yang Fan's previous instructions, he needed to unleash all his pent-up resentment or risk forfeiting the silver.

"You foul witch!" the old beggar spat at the statue.

During this outburst, Yang Fan concentrated intently, sensing a faint wave of spiritual energy that escaped and dissipated into the ether alongside the smoke from the incense.

In that moment, a strange phenomenon occurred.

Yang Fan perceived a change, lifting his gaze to the statue. The gentleness and wisdom that once resided in Guanyin's eyes vanished, replaced by a hint of displeasure as her flowing hair danced in the wind. She scrutinized the old beggar, a chilling smile gracing her lips.

This was merely a fleeting illusion that Yang Fan captured; the common folk remained oblivious, continuing to view the "Goddess of Mercy" as eternally benevolent and beautiful.

"That beggar is mad! How dare he offend the divine!" 

"Quickly, cast this madman out!" The crowd erupted in outrage, rushing towards the old beggar, preparing to strike him.

"Ah! Run!" The beggar's face turned ashen with fear as he fled in a panic.

Instantly, chaos erupted within the temple.

Yang Fan remained composed, his gaze fixed upon the graceful and radiant statue of Guanyin. A slight smirk graced his lips, revealing a faint disdain.

To mock the populace and extract power from the lowly mortals beneath her—was this the essence of divinity?

A profound contempt blossomed within Yang Fan's heart.

Strangely, as this feeling of derision took root, another wave of peculiar spiritual energy surged forth, intertwining with the incense smoke and vanishing into the void.

Boom!

In an instant, the statue of Guanyin transformed dramatically.

A bolt of lightning erupted from behind the statue, the azure strands of hair spiraling like a dragon through the heavens, conjuring a tempest that swept across the earth. From the lotus pedestal emerged a myriad of violet flames, and Guanyin's cold gaze pierced Yang Fan, revealing a flicker of rage and murderous intent.

An overwhelming pressure surged forth like a mighty river, causing Yang Fan's spirit to tremble, his expression shifting in alarm.

Yet, in the next moment, a cold smile crept onto his face as he glanced at the statue, sweeping his sleeve and departing.

"These are mere illusions; there's no need to fear… Throughout history, there are tales of ascension, yet there's scarcely any evidence of immortals descending to the mortal realm…"

Yang Fan scoffed inwardly, continuing his stroll toward the temple's exit.

At this moment, the attention of everyone inside the temple was fixated on the fleeing old beggar, leaving them oblivious to his actions.

Boom!

The sky suddenly brightened ominously, a streak of lightning illuminating the temple in flashes of light and shadow.

"Ah!" The common folk screamed, panic-stricken.

The lightning was real!

Yang Fan's heart sank, a chill coursing through him.

"It must be that beggar who offended the divine, provoking Guanyin's ire and summoning heavenly wrath!" 

The crowd seethed with anger, their loathing for the old beggar intensifying.

Yet the beggar had already vanished, merging into the throngs of humanity outside.

"Oh no, I've been tricked! This is terrible; I've offended the deities! How could I have been so foolish?" The old beggar lamented, horrified by the prospect of incurring divine wrath.

During daylight, thunderstorming was indeed an extraordinary occurrence.

Yang Fan remained unperturbed, quietly slipping away while his own trepidation mirrored that of the old beggar.

"This is utterly unfathomable! What kind of existence are the celestial beings from above?"

As Yang Fan hastened out of the temple, a bolt of lightning

 struck.

"Ah!" he cried out in shock, quickly making his way back into the temple to seek shelter.