Before long, the jolting stopped.
"We're here! Unload the cargo!"
At the command, Jiang Stone felt himself being lifted, and then—
THUD!
He was slammed onto the ground, sack and all, sending up a cloud of dust.
Then, the mouth of the sack was untied, and a wave of foul air washed over him.
Jiang Stone squinted, his eyes adjusting to the light as he took in the new scene.
It was a long-abandoned ancient temple.
The Buddha statue in the center of the main hall had toppled halfway over. Its golden surface had peeled away, revealing the grotesque clay form beneath.
The fractured Buddha head lay crookedly on the ground, half of its compassionate face shrouded in cobwebs.
The side halls, once used for burning incense and making offerings, had been converted into rows of grim cells.
Iron bars divided the space, which was filled with all sorts of junk and... "cargo."
That "cargo" was people.
