Mui Ran was the heir of the Mui clan, a talented man who had been given everything he desired on a silver platter.
His position as the main heir was essentially confird, and he was all but destined to beco the next clan head.
His cultivation talent was solid, having reached the Fourth Tribulation Stage of the Immortal Realm in less than seven thousand years. While his prowess was far from the likes of Crown Prince Feng Shun, Daoist Chu, or Lin Mu's other companions, it was considered respectable within clan circles.
The Mui clan itself was one of the prominent noble clans of the Lotus Prefecture. With nurous businesses both within and beyond the region, their influence was notable. They paid annual tributes to the Green Lotus Temple and frequently sent auxiliary clan mbers to serve as monks, maintaining strong ties with the Temple.
At least, until today.
Mui Ran had made a mistake—a grave one. One that would not only cost him dearly, but tarnish the reputation of his entire clan.
He didn't understand the weight of his actions yet, nor did his followers.
"Unhand the young lord!" Mui Ran's attendants shouted, rushing forward.
They had been waiting nearby, unable to stand in line with him due to the temple's strict guest policy. That restriction had already soured Mui Ran's mood, leaving him stewing in resentnt.
Seeing commoners admitted before him had only worsened his temper. But it was the sight of Lin Mu being greeted with honor and allowed imdiate entry that pushed him past his breaking point.
"My father will hear of this!" Mui Ran shouted, struggling against the monks holding him.
But the monks were no ordinary guardians. They were all at the Third or Fourth Tribulation Stage, appointed specifically to maintain order at the gates. This wasn't the first outburst they'd witnessed in the past few days. Tensions had risen as thousands of cultivators queued for entry, many of them knowing they might have to wait weeks or even months.
Mui Ran, in fact, was relatively close to the front of the line. Had he waited just a few more hours, he would have been admitted without issue.
But his arrogance had undone all that.
SHING! SHING! SHING!
"Didn't you hear!? Let go of our young lord!" his followers yelled, drawing weapons.
The atmosphere instantly grew tense. People nearby held their breath, knowing things were about to get ugly. So had seen scenes like this before—and how quickly the monks acted.
"Damn."
"He's done it now."
"No way they'll let him in after this."
"They're protecting that man... Who is he?"
Before the confrontation escalated further, a serene yet powerful voice rang out.
"Amitabha."
All eyes turned.
An ancient-looking man in flowing saffron robes appeared, accompanied by several other elders. His presence was like a calm wave crashing through the area, his steps light but resonating.
"The Abbot!" the senior monks imdiately greeted him with a bow.
Gasps echoed through the crowd.
"That's the Abbot!?"
"This is my first ti seeing him... He looks old, but his aura is terrifying."
The Abbot stopped before the scene, his expression unreadable.
"What is happening here?" he asked, voice calm, yet firm.
"It's nothing of note, Abbot," Lin Mu replied respectfully, attempting to de-escalate.
"Forgive us, Bearer, but this matter cannot be dismissed so lightly," one of the senior monks said.
Lin Mu frowned but stayed silent. He knew what this ant. He had hoped to keep things simple, but the temple clearly wouldn't.
The elders turned to the senior monks. "Explain."
The monks recounted everything—from the insult to the attempt to strike Lin Mu, to the arrogance and defiance shown by Mui Ran.
The air turned heavy.
A palpable pressure descended upon the area. Cultivators of all stages began to sweat as the spiritual might of the Abbot and elders surged.
"Amitabha," the Abbot said softly. "This is indeed a grave offense."
"It is more than that," an elder added, his tone sharp. "It is a taboo—an offense against the very Temple itself."
"What offense?!" Mui Ran barked, trembling but unyielding. Despite the pressure, he refused to hold his tongue. "Why are you all defending this random bastard?!"
THUD!
The crowd watched in stunned silence as Mui Ran's head slamd into the ground—not by physical force, but from the sheer weight of the aura pressing down on him.
"Amitabha. A child who does not learn to control his tongue will lose his way," the Abbot murmured, eyes closed.
Lin Mu looked up, sensing the abbot's aura ripple with sothing far more intense than what he had expected.
'Why does his aura feel so... angry?' he wondered.
The Abbot opened his eyes. "This child ca to join our Temple as a guest. So be it. He shall stay here... forever."
Gasps erupted around them.
"However," the Abbot continued, "his offenses are many. Elders, his tongue is forfeit."
SQUELCH!
"Yes, Abbot!"
Without hesitation, one elder restrained Mui Ran while another grabbed his jaw.
With brutal efficiency, they tore out his tongue.
Blood splattered across the stone pathway. A muffled scream of agony echoed as Mui Ran writhed, silenced at last.
No one dared move. Even those who had previously questioned Lin Mu's status remained still, their eyes wide with horror and awe.
Lin Mu said nothing. He simply sighed, his heart rippled but soon cald despite everything.
Justice had been served.
But peace ca at a cost.
Lin Mu would've wanted it to all be swept away into the wind.
Was he insulted?
Yes.
Did he care?
No.
He had been through such instances many tis and had grown used to it. Even more so now, that he had upgraded the Calming Heart Sutra to the Fourth Stage of the True Internal Resonance.
While he was keeping his aura restrained, the passive effects of it were still present, keeping him calm through everything.
Had Mui Ran and the monks let it be, this would not have progressed further. At most Mui Ran might have been kicked out along with his followers. But now it had taken a serious turn.
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