Thomas Grant subconsciously took the steaming hot bun, listening to Brian Cooper's old and hoarse voice. For some reason, a sourness welled up in his heart, and he thought of his own elderly father whom he hadn't seen in years.

He hurriedly took a bite of the bun, barely holding back his tears.

After slurping down two mouthfuls of hot porridge, he finally managed to suppress the bitterness in his chest.

Only then did he say to Brian Cooper, “Thank you, Mr. Cooper, for looking after this humble monk.

We, the menial monks, are insignificant and unworthy of being called masters.

Mr. Cooper, you have the care of the eminent monks of the Xuming Institute. Today you are participating in the true enlightenment trial, and you are sure to awaken the true seed. You are the real master.

If you don't mind, you can just call me by my Dharma name from now on.”

“In that case, this old man will respectfully accept.

I'll take the liberty of calling you little brother Thomas Grant.”

A glimmer flashed in Brian Cooper's clouded old eyes as he asked Thomas Grant, who was burying his head in the porridge, “Lately, I've often heard that our temple worships many sacred beings—Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, Arhats, Dharma Protectors, and so on.

Each sacred being has a dedicated temple for veneration.

If one awakens to the true seed corresponding to a particular sacred being, one will become a disciple under that temple.

With so many temples, countless in number, the competition must be fierce.

So, in this light, perhaps not awakening the true seed and becoming a menial monk isn't such a bad thing after all?

Though the status is low, at least one can live out their life in peace, which is a great fortune.”

Those assigned to the laymen's courtyard could only move about within the compound, cut off from news.

The things Brian Cooper had heard were only gradually learned after interacting with the monks in charge of menial affairs in the laymen's courtyard.

However, he could only glean these surface-level facts.

Deeper matters, like the question he was now asking, were always met with silence when brought up among the menial monks outside.

It was only because he now shared meals daily with Thomas Grant, and their relationship had deepened, that he felt comfortable asking such a question.

When Thomas Grant heard his question, he was silent for a moment. Just as Brian Cooper was about to change the subject, Thomas Grant spoke: “Mr. Cooper, our temple bestows Dharma names to disciples using these twenty characters: ‘Wisdom, True Suchness, Dharma, Profound, Tranquil, Root, Pure, Enlighten, Samadhi, True, Origin, Void, Treasury.’

Do you know who is the highest-ranking monk in the menial courtyard?”

“Who is it?”

Brian Cooper looked at Thomas Grant's expressionless face, a faint premonition rising in his heart.

Thomas Grant grinned, making Brian Cooper's heart tighten: “It's George Allen, who has been the steward of the laymen's dining hall for twenty years, and every time there's a rotation, he goes to great lengths to pull strings and ensure he stays here!”

He buried his head and took a sip of porridge, saying indifferently, “Every month, our temple holds four true enlightenment trials. Each time, there are no fewer than a hundred disciples from the laymen's courtyard participating.

Of these three hundred, less than one in ten receives the true seed.

The rest are all sent to the menial courtyard.

Yet even so, from the time the ‘Ben’ generation Dharma names were sealed, and the ‘Xu’ generation began to be bestowed, there has only ever been George Allen left as a menial monk in the menial courtyard.

All others of higher seniority were transferred from the main practice institutes to supervise the menial courtyard.

There are plenty of ‘Xu’ generation menial monks.

Cut down one crop, and another always grows back...” Brian Cooper was horrified by what he heard!

He had seen that steward monk George Allen in the dining hall, and had heard stories about him from other menial monks—everyone said he was cowardly, afraid of trouble, lazy, and always currying favor with superiors while bullying those below.

He never expected that such a monk would be the only remaining ‘Ben’ generation menial monk in the entire Xin Fo Temple!

The ‘Ben’ generation Dharma names had been sealed for over forty years, and George Allen was among the last batch to receive one.

In forty years, if Xin Fo Temple held four true enlightenment trials every month, how many hundreds or thousands of monks would have failed to receive the true seed and been sent to the menial courtyard?

Yet with so many menial monks, not a single ripple was ever made—they all disappeared quietly...

What kind of temple was Xin Fo Temple, really?

! Brian Cooper's heart trembled in fear, yet he still held onto a sliver of hope and asked Thomas Grant, “So many menial monks...

Where did they all go?”

Thomas Grant met his gaze and gave a strange smile: “A master in the Military Lord Institute recently lost a magical artifact, which was made from the leg bone of a spiritually rich creature.

Yesterday, a menial monk who shared my dormitory fell while feeding pigs in the pigsty and was trampled to death by the herd.

His body was mangled, but one leg bone remained intact; in the corpse forest built by Wangsheng Mountain, recently, corpses have been rotting away completely, leaving nothing usable.

The menial branch at the foot of the mountain was recently struck by a plague, and ninety percent have already died; the Sanwang Institute...” Thomas Grant listed off one incident after another that he had personally witnessed.

The more Brian Cooper listened, the more silent he became.

He felt that every word from Thomas Grant's mouth was soaked in blood!

In this temple, people were no different from pigs, sheep, or even a bench or a table—they were all ‘objects’ to be used up at will!

“With such danger in the temple, why don't you escape?”

Brian Cooper blurted out.

But as soon as he spoke, he felt he had been too rash.