From God of Lies to Lord of All Worlds

Chapter 260: The Suffering of All Living Beings

At this moment, in Kachin State, within the northeastern base of the Kachin Independence Army.

"What does that mean? They lowered the transaction quota again?" Dakan glared at his subordinate in sheer displeasure. "Have those people in the east gone mad? We spent a whole year growing these leaves, and they just change the prices on a whim?"

"Boss, according to them, the recent crackdowns on the telecom fraud parks and the battles in Kokang have terrified everyone in those zones. Many are too scared to continue trading with us, terrified of being wiped out!"

The subordinate wiped the cold sweat dripping from his forehead, hurriedly explaining, "You know how it is. The north... has always had a problem with us!"

"Damn it..." Dakan cursed, raising the object in his hand to smash it against the floor. He hesitated and eventually lowered it. The item was quite expensive, and replacing it would be a logistical nightmare.

After all, Myanmar had suffered under sanctions for years. Many goods could only be smuggled in. Since his territory was located deep inland, any transported supplies had to pass through the domains of several other warlords—a severe hassle just thinking about it.

Therefore, Dakan opted for a different method to vent his frustrations. Grabbing his gun, he stormed downstairs into the park compound, randomly singled out a worker, and grabbed him by the collar!

"Why are you out here right now?" Dakan roared. "You should be inside the building making me money! What are you doing out here?!"

"G-General, I... I work the night shift..." the captive stammered, desperately trying to cling to any faint hope of survival.

"You dare talk back?""Bang!" Dakan fired a shot straight into the man's leg, eliciting a bloodcurdling scream. "Ah! It hurts..."

"If you dare to cry out in pain, you dare to rebel!"

"Bang!" Another shot rang out, this time piercing the man's chest. The poor worker was left completely speechless, only able to let out terrified, gasping moans as he struggled for breath.

"Whew, I feel much better!" Dakan tossed the bleeding man aside and ordered his subordinates, "Sell him off, then tell his family that the ransom has been doubled!"

"Yes, sir!"

Before the man could even scream again, two soldiers dragged him away, leaving a stark trail of blood across the floor.

No one spoke out of turn. No one cast a sideways glance. No one paid any attention.

In this military-controlled zone, Dakan was the one and only king.

Judging by the apathetic gazes of the bystanders, everyone had grown accustomed to his brutal tyranny and cruelty. To them, this was simply an everyday occurrence.

However, his satisfaction was extremely short-lived.

"Boss, General Enla sent a reprimand! He says we've stirred up trouble again!"

His subordinate's words caused Dakan's expression to twist into a scowl. "Again? That greedy Enla is just looking for another excuse to squeeze money out of me, isn't he? Couldn't he at least come up with a better pretext?"

Dakan cursed under his breath. "He calls us his so-called brethren, yet he gives us absolutely nothing and only knows how to demand cash! Sooner or later, I'm going to kill him too!"

Despite his venomous complaints, he still snatched the documents from his subordinate's hands.

As the ruler of this region, he might be exceptionally ruthless, but he was certainly not stupid. Any matter that prompted the supreme leader of the Kachin Independence Army to send an official reprimand was guaranteed to be no trivial affair.

"A diplomatic note from America? Claiming a delegation from The Church is heading our way? Is today April Fool's Day?"

Even though Dakan had anticipated several worst-case scenarios, he was still utterly astounded by this revelation. He stared dumbfounded at the files in his hands, completely at a loss for words.

Right there in black and white was the official diplomatic notification from the American side. The notice had been relayed through the Military Junta—a government as leaky as a sieve, which had practically exposed everything about them.

"I don't know. Maybe The Church wants to start proselytizing in our territory?" The subordinate was equally perplexed. While they did have believers and local churches here, it hardly seemed significant enough to warrant a personal visit from the modern Church.

Unable to wrap his head around it, Dakan simply decided to dismiss the thought. "To hell with them! So what if they're from The Church? Do they actually expect us to roll out the red carpet? They should consider themselves lucky if I don't lock them up and demand a ransom!"

"Boss, The Church holds immense prestige on the international stage right now. We really shouldn't invite that kind of trouble..." his adjutant cautioned.

"Prestige? You mean those charlatans playing dress-up? Ha!" Dakan sneered in contempt. "It's not that I look down on them, but we live in a strictly Buddhist nation. Do you know how many Buddhist monks we've slaughtered here? Or how many temples are currently collaborating with us?"

"If God truly existed, he would have struck me down by now. Instead, he just watches as we force these monks to return to secular life and make them run our telecom fraud operations!"

Dakan gazed out over the sprawling compound, his voice dripping with disdain.

In this country, the monks, or the Sangha, were predominantly literate, with some even being highly educated intellectuals. Thus, he had rounded them all up, dragged them into his compound, and forced them to run his scam networks!

This was one of the largest sources of revenue for his army. The narcotics trade and the extensive telecom fraud networks were the only reasons men like him could afford to maintain their lavish, extravagant lifestyles.

Right at that very moment, the adjutant rushed in with another report. "Boss, we have a situation! The men in the southern defense sector say a Buddhist monk has broken through our lines!"

"A Buddhist monk? Broke through our lines? Huh?" Dakan felt like he had experienced more shock today than in the past ten years combined. What on earth was happening? Had he just kicked a hornet's nest of religious zealots?

...

Rewinding the clock to an hour earlier. While George and his team boarded their vehicles in Yangon and headed toward Kachin State, Mion, relying on nothing but his own two feet, had also arrived at the administrative center of this region.

Of course, calling it an administrative center was generous; in reality, it was little more than a sprawling military encampment.

The recent tug-of-war between the government forces and the Kachin Army had practically blanketed the entire region in the flames of war. Between the ceaseless artillery fire and the occupying troops of both factions, there wasn't a single intact building left standing.

It was here that Mion saved a little girl.

She was incredibly small, perhaps only five or six years old. Amidst this war-torn wasteland, she navigated through massive craters left by artillery shells, holding hand-woven floral garlands as she tried to sell them to the nearby temple monks.

In peacetime Myanmar, this would be a perfectly normal sight. Young girls in many regions did the exact same thing, easily selling a dozen or so garlands a day to earn around ten thousand kyat—just enough to scrape by.

Due to severe inflation ravaging the nation's economy, it took thousands of those local bills just to equal the value of a single American dollar.

But this was an active war zone, and the monks themselves had very little money to spare. Even the decorative Gold Leaf adorning the temples had been stripped away by the warlords, traded off for artillery shells and firearms.

As a result, she could only hawk her wares in vain among the monks. Ultimately, she managed to trade one floral garland for a meager clump of white rice, barely half the size of her tiny fist.

And even that required immense compassion from the temple's Sangha.

The little girl scarfed down the rice in large mouthfuls, completely oblivious to the Buddhist monk who had quietly approached her.

Nor did she notice the cold barrels of sniper rifles aiming directly at her from a distance!

Two soldiers from the Kachin Army were casually lining up their sights on her as they chatted:

"She's not Kachin. Looks Bamar!"

"Then kill her. We can't let her grow up!"

Hearing this from afar, Mion quickly stepped to the girl's side, using his own body to physically block their line of sight.

"Little girl, why are you out here all by yourself?" Mion asked gently, looking down at the child covered in filth, her eyes shadowed by the thick, soot-filled air of the battlefield.

The little girl looked up at him, her eyes displaying a guarded caution that far exceeded her young age. "Mommy said... we can stay alive here..."

"And where is your mommy?"

"Dead. Some people came to our house and killed both mommy and daddy. I hid in the cellar, so I lived..." the little girl replied softly. "Mommy said that if I didn't have anything to eat, I should come to the temple. She said as long as I don't starve to death, everything will be okay!"

There was no artificial bravery in her eyes, nor any visible despair—only a raw, primal instinct to survive.

It was precisely this desperate desire that filled Mion with profound sorrow.

This country shouldn't be like this! How could it have ever come to this?

Yet, tragically, this young girl was actually one of the luckier ones among the local populace. Countless others were already scattered across the outskirts of the battlefield, their rotting corpses left to decay in the open.

"It is good to be alive... It is good to be alive! For only the living possess the opportunity to cultivate their spirits! Amitābha!"

Mion gently rested his hand upon the little girl's forehead, bestowing a mild blessing upon her. "You shall live a long life free from illness and disaster. You will become the sole shining hope of your family line. Your karmic debts will be cleansed, and your destined blessings are soon to arrive!"

"Bang!" A gunshot rang out sharply in the distance, causing the little girl to flinch violently. However, absolutely nothing happened.

She hastily swallowed the very last grain of rice in her mouth before scurrying away toward the outskirts of the temple.

Those who lived in a war zone, even a mere six-year-old child, possessed an innate wisdom for survival!

"How did that miss?" The two soldiers frowned deeply, preparing to step forward and investigate.

"It's all because of that damn monk! What does he think he's blocking? I'll kill you too!" A cruel, bloodthirsty sneer slipped from their lips.

"Where did that monk go?" They scanned their surroundings in confusion, but the meddlesome monk was nowhere to be seen.

"Sins, like morning dew, may briefly shroud the leaves, Yet when the sun of wisdom rises, the dew transforms to mist—

Mist and rain must inevitably return to the boundless sea, So how could they ever stain the core of the azure lotus?"

Mion chanted this profound Buddhist Verse. It was originally intended as a verse of personal Repentance, yet at this exact moment, it appropriately served as a eulogy of repentance he offered on behalf of these wicked men.

His hands firmly clasped onto the shoulders of both soldiers. "Amitābha. Were you two looking for this humble monk?"