While Langchong Hubao, the four great generals, were all far from handsome, and Second Boss Weng appeared at first glance to be a man obsessed with wine, women, and wealth, there wasn't a single person in the Hong Kong underworld who didn't believe in gods and Buddhas. From the Tathagata Buddha down to the local Earth Gods on every street corner, they would all stop to pay their respects.
Master Dong was even more devout. In his seventy years of life—seventy years of bullets flying and smoke rising in Hong Kong Bay—every time he personally smashed someone's skull, whether the victim was white, black, East Asian, or Southeast Asian, he would recite a Buddhist mantra. He never failed to offer an "Amitabha" while taking a life, as if sending the soul straight to the side of the Bodhisattvas.
Today they had come to Lianhua Temple. This temple was no ordinary place. It occupied the territory of Han Yuzhu, and according to the temple monks, when Han Yuzhu’s body was lying in state, the frost crystals that formed on her coffin were in the shape of lotus flowers—a phenomenon even the most learned high monks had never witnessed before.
Chapter 162