The Buddha says all beings are equal.
He says that's bullshit.
A tyrant seizes a widow's fields, and you say nothing.
A corrupt official takes the people's land, and you say nothing.
The Pure World Cult cuts out the hearts of ninety-nine boys to make an elixir, and still you say nothing.
“Then this humble monk, Han Feng, will do it himself.”
With a black-gold staff in hand, he fought from Fengqiao to Lin'an, taking on half the Song Empire.
His staff swept away river bandits, knocked corrupt officials from their posts, and smashed altars.
Grand Tutor Hong Xi offered ten thousand taels for his head.
He took the entire reward and gave it to the refugees.
In the imperial hall, the emperor personally offered him wine.
“I name you Imperial Preceptor, with rank among the Three Excellencies.”
The entire court knelt before him.
He lifted the wine and poured it on the ground.
“Your Majesty, this humble monk is a Buddhist.”
“So what if you're a monk? I'll make you my son-in-law!”
“A son-in-law cannot save the world.”
“What is it you want?”
“This humble monk wants a world without suffering, without unjust cases!”
He turned and left, crossing the river on a reed boat.
From then on, a legend spread through the martial world.
When you face the hardest obstacle, the cruelest person, or the darkest night, you look up and see him crouched at your door: a poor monk in a blue cloth robe,
chewing on half a flatbread and smiling at you.
He is no Buddha.
In this troubled age,
he is the only one who still believes in a little justice.
