A certain monk in Jinan, of unknown origin, walked barefoot, clad in a patched robe, reciting sutras and soliciting alms daily throughout the areas of Furong Pavilion and Daming Lake.

The common folk offered him wine, food, silver, and grain, but the monk refused everything, offering no answer when asked what he required.

He was never seen eating, yet he remained perpetually vigorous, somehow never starving.

Someone urged him, saying, "Master, since you abstain from meat and wine, you should beg in the remote alleys of mountain villages.

What propriety is there in spending all day frequenting bustling taverns?" The monk kept his eyes closed, reciting scriptures, his eyelashes long, as if he heard nothing.

The persistent man rambled on incessantly.

The monk grew vexed, opened his eyes sharply, and declared, "Precisely this is how I must solicit alms." He continued chanting, and only after a long while did he depart.

The man followed close behind, inquiring, "Why must you beg in this manner?" The monk offered no reply.

The man persisted, asking four or five more times.

Annoyed, the monk sharply retorted, "Your capacity for enlightenment is limited, esteemed patron.

How could the things I do be understood by you?" With that, he walked away by himself.

Several days later, someone discovered the monk lying stiffly by the roadside outside the South City, motionless and silent for three consecutive days.

The residents feared he would starve there, causing trouble for them, and they all urged the monk to move away quickly.

They pleaded, "Great monk, if you are willing to leave, we will give you money or we will give you food." The monk remained unresponsive in his stupor.

The common folk grew frantic; they joined hands, lifted him, intending to carry the monk elsewhere.

The monk erupted in fury, thrust his hand into his robes, produced a short blade, and slashed open his abdomen.

Seizing his intestines with both hands, he threw them out onto the roadside one by one, and expired.

The horrified residents reported it to the magistrate.

The government officials hastily buried him under a tattered straw mat.

After one night, someone found the monk’s grave dug up by wild dogs.

The straw mat lay exposed and trampled underfoot, yet it was empty.

Upon inspection, the mat was found rolled up, dusty as before, but the monk's corpse had vanished without a trace.