I rolled my eyes at him. “What are you so anxious about, kid? You’re always on lookout duty anyway, so what’s the point in telling you?”

The most timid one in the gang, Henry Walker, hesitated and said, “Second Brother, there are so many monks in White Horse Temple. Isn’t it too risky for us to go steal money?”

“Coward, what do you know!” I snapped viciously. “Today, Magistrate Zhou is holding a ritual for his dead old man, so most of the monks in the temple have gone to the yamen. There are only a few left. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Didn’t you notice? There weren’t even any patrol officers on the streets this afternoon!”

Jack Foster said admiringly, “Second Brother’s right. I just sneaked a look—there are only three or four baldies left in White Horse Temple.”

I said smugly, “So, my plan is: Henry Walker, Little Clark, and Samuel Brooks will go first. Your target is the temple’s vegetable garden. Pretend you’re there to steal cabbages and lure the baldies over. Richard Walker, you’re the fastest, so you’ll go in the second wave. Enter the Mahavira Hall first, then dash like mad toward the rear hall. That way, the baldy in charge of receiving incense-offering guests will definitely chase you, and the Mahavira Hall will be empty.”

Jack Foster shouted excitedly, “I get it! Then we’ll go in as the third wave, grab the donation box, and run. I’m the strongest—I can carry it by myself!”

I nodded. “No need for everyone to go in. Leave a few people outside to cover us, just in case. Now, I’ll count to three—everyone scatter and start the operation!”

A dozen or so brothers immediately scattered like birds and beasts. I followed Henry Walker and the other two, circled around to the south wall, and let them climb over one by one by stepping on my shoulders, flipping into the vegetable patch. I lay on top of the wall, nervously peeking over. Soon, the monks heard the commotion and all came running. In an instant, chickens and dogs were flying, monks were shouting and cursing, and Henry Walker and the others were running in all directions—a total mess.

Step one, success!

I pulled out the short flute from my chest and blew three loud bird calls.

The plan was unfolding exactly as I’d predicted.

Henry Walker and the others got beaten up pretty badly by the monks, but they were still let go. Even though they’re monks, they sure weren’t merciful with their fists. Looking at Henry Walker’s swollen panda eyes, I couldn’t help but laugh with delight.

Seeing others in trouble always makes me happy. It’s my only joy besides peeking at the Wang family’s young lady.

Before long, I heard a series of frantic footsteps running from the temple gate.

We did it!

I raised my arms and cheered, but lost my balance and fell off the wall, landing face-first in the dirt.

Damn it!

I actually fell right into the White Horse Temple’s vegetable patch!

Clutching my mouth in pain, I was just about to get up when a pair of straw sandals suddenly appeared before my eyes.

Crap!

I looked up—and oh my god, it was the abbot of White Horse Temple, Master Foster!

All of Luoyang knows that Edward Foster is a legendary baldy—even Emperor Xuanzong in the palace calls him a Living Buddha.

Because Edward Foster is a master of prophecy, the greatest seer in history.

His predictions have never been wrong.

But this big shot rarely shows his face, always shrouded in mystery. Maybe he knows he’s ugly—just skin and bones, looking like a skeleton.

Desperate to escape, I forced a fawning smile. “Master Foster, I’ve long admired your great name! My respect for you is as boundless as the surging Luo River, endless and unbroken, just like—”

“Sixteen years. You only have sixteen years of life.” Edward Foster stared at me in shock, his pupils flashing with the seven colors of a rainbow.

A shiver ran through my whole body.

The blazing sun was suddenly swallowed by dark clouds, plunging everything into gloom.

Boom! A thunderclap exploded in the sky, a blinding blue bolt of lightning split the clouds and struck down. Edward Foster didn’t move a muscle, frozen like a wooden chicken, instantly turned into a charred lump of charcoal, giving off the mouthwatering smell of roast meat.

Edward Foster was struck dead by lightning.

I stared at him in a daze, then suddenly let out a wild scream and bolted out of White Horse Temple.

Torrential rain poured down.

That year, I was sixteen.

The rain came down in sheets, thunder and lightning raging.

Raindrops the size of soybeans pelted down, splashing up like arrows. The pitch-black sky looked as if it had been whipped into countless white streaks.

Everything was a blur of white in my vision. All the passersby had taken shelter under the eaves. Only I, like a madman, was running wildly through the empty streets, trembling with fear.

I knew I was doomed.

Edward Foster’s prophecies were always accurate, and his death by lightning only proved the old saying: “He who reveals the secrets of heaven will be punished by heaven!”

Damn Edward Foster’s ancestors for eighteen generations! Damn the heavens! I’m only sixteen!

I don’t know how long I ran. With a thud, my legs gave out and I collapsed to my knees, the world spinning around me. I was already outside the city. The Luo River flowed gently, like a blue silk ribbon. Mist rose from the rain over the water, empty and desolate. I wiped my face hard—I couldn’t tell if it was rain or tears.

I was going to die soon. It wasn’t until late at night that I finally accepted this cruel fact.

Chapter 002: What Do People Do Before They Die (Part 2)

The rain stopped. Curled up by the Luo River, I was still shivering, but at least I’d calmed down a lot.

My dead old man used to say, don’t cry over broken eggs—it’s useless.

Anyway, there’s only one road left.

What should a person do before they die?

I, for one, am going to have a damn good time!