A certain Daoist was wandering far and wide, and one day, as darkness fell, he arrived at a temple seeking shelter for the night.

He found the monks' quarters tightly sealed, impossible to enter.

The Daoist paused for a moment in contemplation, then took a cushion from the main hall and settled down to rest in the corridor.

The night was deep and silent, when suddenly he heard the sound of a door opening. A monk emerged, covered head to toe in gore, walking straight into the main hall, climbing onto the base of the Buddha statue, clutching the statue’s head with both hands, and laughing idiotically for a long time before finally departing.

The next morning, when dawn broke, the Daoist went to check the monks' quarters again. The door remained firmly shut as before. Puzzled, he kicked the door hard, forcing it open. Inside, he saw a monk—the very one from the previous night—his limbs stiff, having been dead for some time already.

The room was in disarray, the straw matting tossed about and the wooden cabinet overturned on the floor; the Daoist immediately understood this was a case of robbery and murder.

He mused, "The monk wouldn't have been laughing continuously last night without a reason."

With that thought, he went to examine the main hall. Behind the head of the Buddha statue, he discovered a faint scratch mark. Using a knife, he carefully dug it out, revealing more than thirty taels of silver hidden inside.

As the Daoist was an ascetic, he felt no greed for the wealth. He immediately used the silver to arrange the monk’s funeral, recite sutras for his deliverance, and ensure he was laid to rest peacefully.