The Golden Lion felt an unprecedented surge of power, never before had it experienced such ease and clarity. It was as if its Dao heart had been purified, its physique transcending the mortal realm.
At this moment, it was composed and confident, for it had truly succeeded—forging a golden body meant the birth of an invincible battle form.
Barring any mishaps, after enduring the Ancient Buddha’s Eighteen Strikes, it would stand unrivaled among its peers!
“You succeeded?” An elder was visibly moved. The young Golden Lion’s transformation had unfolded right before their eyes—a grand opportunity indeed.
“By fortune’s grace.” The Fearless Lion nodded, serene yet radiant, its golden fur shimmering with dazzling brilliance.
Some of the younger onlookers wore complex expressions, having witnessed the entire metamorphosis firsthand.
“Perhaps it can now contend even with the Imperial Clan,” someone speculated.
“Unless it achieves a flawless physique, it still stands no chance. The young prodigies of the Imperial Clan are not so easily surpassed!” another countered skeptically.
“Will you descend into the lake now? Are you confident?” a great cultivator inquired, their concern evident—for the Rotten Wooden Box lay below.
“I have a sixty to seventy percent certainty of enduring the Ancient Buddha’s Eighteen Strikes and completing the baptism!” the Golden Lion declared.
“Not absolute certainty?” an elder pressed, worry creeping into his voice.
For if the Golden Lion descended, its path would not be smooth—it might never return.
The Fearless Lion’s prodigious talent was undeniable, and its fall would be a tragic loss. More importantly, who else could retrieve the Rotten Wooden Box?
“The Ancient Buddha’s Eighteen Strikes are both a baptism and a brutal trial. The slightest flaw within one’s body is magnified infinitely—a single strike could be fatal. Most would perish instantly!” the Fearless Lion explained. Only after forging its golden body did it dare attempt this trial.
“Though my golden body is complete, flaws—however negligible—will still be amplified. Hence, my sixty to seventy percent certainty,” it elaborated further.
The crowd gasped. The Golden Lion’s transformation was undeniable—its fur shed and regrown, its bones reforged, its golden body achieved. Yet even this transcendent state offered no absolute guarantee of survival, leaving them all shaken.
The Ancient Buddha’s Eighteen Strikes magnified flaws without limit. Even geniuses could perish within a few strikes!
At the lake’s depths, Shi Hao finally calmed, basking in unprecedented comfort, his body warm as if bathed in a great furnace.
The skeletal remains had scattered, returning to the piles of bones.
No longer under attack, the Ancient Buddha’s Eighteen Strikes had concluded. Shi Hao felt his body had reached perfection—his Indestructible Body could advance no further at his current realm.
“This journey is complete, the rewards immense!” Shi Hao murmured to himself.
Beyond the boost in strength, he was most pleased with the “unbinding” of the being upon his Dao Flower, freeing his true body from constraints and making cultivation smoother.
“Hmm? Has that lion descended to kill me?” Shi Hao’s eyes gleamed as ripples disturbed the water—a blurred figure plunged toward him.
Indeed, it was the Fearless Lion, radiant as a golden sun descending from the heavens.
Arrogant and elated, the lion sought to undergo a trial of astonishing rigor. Once overcome, it would stand unrivaled under the heavens.
By then, it would fear no one.
“I am destined to rise—none can stop me!” it declared with unwavering confidence.
“A pity I couldn’t slay Shi Hao with my own hands. In this place, he’ll dissolve entirely, not even bones remaining. Otherwise, I’d have claimed his head.” The Golden Lion sighed regretfully.
Having forged its mighty golden body, it lamented the missed chance to test its newfound power against its foe—now already dead.
To the lion, it was a true shame. Had Shi Hao lived, awaiting its triumph and the severing of his head, all would have been perfect.
“You couldn’t add a glorious feat to my record—what a waste.” The Golden Lion shook its head.
Shi Hao wore an odd expression as the blurred figure approached. Without haste, he rose to his feet, standing openly.
“Who?!”
The Golden Lion recoiled in shock. Amid the bone piles, a living, flesh-and-blood being had appeared, sending a chill down its spine.
This lake was no ordinary place—even Heavenly Eyes failed here. Formed from the flesh and blood of ancient Buddhas, it blocked all prying gazes.
“It’s you?! You’re alive?!” The Golden Lion’s disbelief was palpable as it recognized Shi Hao’s face nearby.
Not long ago, it had witnessed Shi Hao’s body shatter, torn asunder before sinking into the lake. It had believed Shi Hao long dead, annihilated in body and soul.
Yet now, an unharmed Shi Hao stood at the lake’s depths—an impossibility!
“You’ve always wanted to take my head yourself. I thought I’d give you the chance—that’s why I waited here,” Shi Hao said calmly.
But his words sent a tremor through the Golden Lion. Shi Hao’s body had been destroyed—how had he recovered? Moreover, he had endured the lake’s crushing pressure all this time.
This spoke volumes. Shi Hao had withstood the lake’s lethal embrace—a feat akin to the legendary Young Immortal Monk King, who had once shed his Buddha nature to temper himself here, emerging peerless.
In history, only one had ever achieved this.
“Now, there’s a second…” The Fearless Lion retreated, stunned. Arrogant as it was, it knew full well how perilous this foe had become.
Its eyes darted around the lakebed, searching desperately.
“Looking for that golden skeleton? It’s already scattered. Hoping it would strike you to forge an invincible golden body?” Shi Hao chuckled.
He held no goodwill for this lineage. In the past, they had betrayed the Nine Heavens, leading foreign armies to slaughter their own kin—their hands drenched in unforgivable blood.
Moreover, this Golden Lion had recently targeted him, nearly causing his demise. Shi Hao’s killing intent surged—he would end it here and now.
“You stole my destiny?!” The Golden Lion raged, realizing Shi Hao had undergone the Ancient Buddha’s Eighteen Strikes.
Within a set time, such a baptism could not be repeated—Shi Hao had seized the opportunity first!
“No matter. Though the skeleton is gone, I remember the strikes. Let me help you!” Shi Hao laughed, lunging forward.
Boom!
The lakebed erupted, energy churning, divine might vast.
“Strange—the lake’s stirring violently, as if in battle!” Those onshore were astonished.
This lake was no ordinary body of water—even great disturbances were usually suppressed, its liquid formed from the essence of ancient monks, capable of quelling all turmoil.
Yet now, the lake seethed—chaos must have gripped its depths.
“Has the little lion met trouble? Could it not endure the Eighteen Strikes?” someone wondered aloud.
Boom!
Waves surged, immortal mist swirling as a bloodied Golden Lion burst forth, one limb twisted, its body pierced by a horrific wound—a fist had torn straight through.
“What happened to you?” The great cultivators ashore were stunned.
The Golden Lion roared, struggling to reach land—only for a hand to seize its hind leg, dragging it back into the depths.
Gasps spread through the crowd. Who was this new presence in the lake? Whose hand was that? Some shuddered in dread.
“Could it be Shi Hao? Didn’t he die, his flesh dissolved into essence?!” someone cried.
“Boom!”
The Golden Lion surged up again, even more mangled, its body nearly torn apart. With a furious roar, it stirred towering waves.
Then, the crowd saw a young man emerge, gripping the lion once more, forcing it beneath the surface.
“What?! It really is Shi Hao!”
“Heavens! He’s alive?! Could he become the second Immortal Monk King?!”
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