The Stupa of Sarira violently trembled, its barrier shattered, and the sacred relics bounced back. Beams of ominous light burst forth. At the forefront was a creature covered in white fur, shaped like a sheep, with wings on its back and eyes gleaming with wisdom. Its aura was immense, nearly reaching the level of a Yaoshen, the strongest demon of ancient times, Bai Ze Demon King Zhu Wu. However, he was unfortunate enough to encounter Yuan Kong, the sixth-generation patriarch of Shaolin, who had attained the “Kasyapa Dharma Body,” and was ruthlessly subdued until this day.
Xin Xuan, the novice in the monastery, eyes gleamed with excitement, with tears barely held back, whispering joyfully, “Ancestor!”
He transformed into a streak of light, joining the demonic ranks and handing the Demon-summoning Banner to Zhu Wu.
At this moment, behind Bai Ze Demon King, figures emerged from beams of light: a nine-headed serpent, a creature with no facial features and four wings with six legs, and a tiger-like beast with a hedgehog’s hide. All were descendants of ancient demonic deities who had refined their ancestral blood, exuding powerful auras.
Once freed, some cried like infants, others emitted thunderous roars, turning Shaolin into a living hell.
“Shaven-headed monks, die!” Several demon lords turned their heads, attempting to attack the Stupa and the main hall of Shaolin to avenge their long imprisonment.
At this moment, Kong Hui, within the Stupa of Sarira, realized the mistake, sighed deeply, whispered a Buddhist chant, and silently repented:
“My disciple must uphold the precept of compassion, slaying demons to protect the temple.”
Behind him appeared the image of “Acala,” while he himself radiated a pure lapis lazuli light, as solid as a diamond and unmoving as the earth. He wielded the “Ananda Precept-breaking Blade,” long stained by the mundane, and swung it forward.
The blade light was hazy, dispersing upon encountering enemies. Suddenly, several demons ignited without flame, layers of red lotus blooming, their karma having reached its peak.
They screamed in agony and turned to ash in a breath.
However, Kong Hui had not truly mastered the Ananda Precept-breaking Blade Technique. While wielding this divine weapon, there was a pause between moves. The Nine-Headed Demon Lord of the Xiangliu clan seized this opportunity, rushing into the main hall of Shaolin, intending to massacre. Fortunately, Kong Jian, the head of the Dharma Hall, guarded this place. He manifested the “Mahakasyapa Form,” fingers flicking rapidly. The finger winds seemed endless, striking from every direction, supremely powerful, completely neutralizing the toxic spit from the Nine-Headed Demon Lord.
Meanwhile, Han Guang did not hesitate, pulling the venerable master with white hair out of the secret passage and flying beside Bai Ze Demon King. He whispered, “This place is no longer safe.”
At that moment, chants echoed from the Stupa: “From this day forth, in the countless aeons to come, in all worlds, in all hells and the three evil paths, I vow to rescue all suffering beings, to liberate them from hell, from the evil realms of beasts and hungry ghosts. Only after all these beings have attained Buddhahood shall I myself achieve enlightenment.”
“As long as hell remains, I shall not attain Buddhahood; only when all sentient beings are saved shall I achieve Bodhi.”
A Bodhisattva image appeared midair, seated on a golden lotus, holding the cycle of black and white life and death. With a single punch, all demonic auras were transformed. The hellish scene abruptly turned serene.
This punch struck the Nine-Headed Demon Lord from the side, the cycle of life and death manifesting as a Dharma Wheel of black and white, instantly enveloping it. Kong Jian swiftly followed, curling his right index and middle fingers, their flesh fading to reveal a lapis-like red and blue hue. They grew larger and larger, directly striking one of the Nine-Headed Demon Lord’s heads.
With a “pop,” the demon, known for its formidable physique, had its head shattered by this single finger, while the remaining eight heads were dazed. The “Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva Form” in the air delivered a punch that withered them, extinguishing all vitality.
Seeing this, Bai Ze Demon King shouted, “Retreat!”
Unaware of the battle’s outcome or the situation, staying was clearly unwise.
The other demon lords, witnessing their comrades’ plight, suddenly found their vengeful fury dissipating as they followed the lead of the Bai Ze Demon King. Seizing the moment when the pagoda trembled and the Lapis Mandala barrier showed weaknesses, they managed to escape from Shaolin.
The head of the Bodhi Hall, Wu Si, along with other masters, was deeply concerned about potential damage to the main hall. They were urgently restoring the Womb Realm (Mandala) barrier and had no time to give chase.
Once beyond the barrier, the sky was bright and clear. Bai Ze Demon King and the many imprisoned demons felt the exhilaration of freedom and returning to nature.
“Haha, a great calamity is also a great opportunity!” Bai Ze Demon King laughed heartily.
Suddenly, a dazzling sword beam flared up beside him, shifting and elusive, then splitting into two, simultaneously slashing toward Bai Ze Demon King and Han Guang.
This sword beam appeared without warning. Bai Ze Demon King, weakened from long imprisonment, could not react in time, barely managing to shift his body slightly.
Silently, his left shoulder and half his demonic body were severed, thick blood like mercury spraying out.
Han Guang, however, seemed to have anticipated this. With a slash of his long blade, the sword beam slowed. Then, with a hearty laugh, he clenched his left fist and struck the ground.
The ground suddenly “split open,” revealing a world roiling with demonic energy. Han Guang leapt into it.
The “crack” closed, and Han Guang vanished without a trace, completely abandoning Bai Ze Demon King.
The sword beam flared again. Bai Ze Demon King saw a calm, indifferent young man in green robes, his heart rising with extreme danger.
So long absent from the world, yet such a figure had emerged?
Bai Ze Demon King could no longer concern himself with anything else. His white fur emitted countless rays of light, enveloping the remaining demon lords and their descendants. Then he detonated the severed half of his demonic body, blocking the sword beam.
At the same time, a gourd appeared in his hand—none other than the Demon-summoning Banner. Its radiance surged, carrying them into the void, vanishing without a trace.
After several breaths, the Lapis Mandala barrier was completely restored. Wu Si, the leader of the Bodhi Hall, finally turned his gaze toward the newly emerged master within the stupa—a melancholic yet strikingly handsome figure—and asked, “Xuan Bei, how did you break free from the Nirvana Meditation?”
Xuan Bei gave a faint bitter smile: “I felt the Stupa tremble and knew the temple was in peril. I momentarily forgot I was in Nirvana Meditation and thus intervened.”
Kong Hui suddenly laughed: “A good forgetfulness! A good forgetfulness!”
Golden flames erupted from his body, completely enveloping him.
Xuan Bei sat cross-legged, lightly patted his knee, and chanted again:
“As long as hell remains, I shall not attain Buddhahood; only when all sentient beings are saved shall I achieve Bodhi.”
Seeing this, Wu Si, the head of the Bodhi Hall, first felt joy, then worry. He turned to Kong Hui and said: “Wu Jing escaped…”
Outside Shaolin Temple, in a dense forest, a round, black-feathered strange bird appeared, looking left and right, flapping its short wings, its fish-like mouth opening wide in laughter: “Finally escaped that damned Stupa! Thanks to my quick wits, I seized the chance to flee. The dead turtle and stinky bird hadn’t even reacted yet!”
“I, the noble descendant of the Kunpeng, the supremely wise ‘Chuiyizi,’ am about to return to the demon race…”
Before his words ended, heavy footsteps thundered. A giant cold turtle rushed past, trampling him to the ground, leaving footprints all over his back.
“Damn!” Chuiyizi struggled to rise, glaring at where the cold turtle had gone, muttering, “The dead turtle escaped too… Not even a bit of face for me. Wait until I reach the Demon Emperor Palace, obtain my ancestors’ inheritance, then I’ll settle scores with you…”
…
The “Motherless Queen Form” had barely entered Northern Zhou when it suddenly dissipated. Gu Xiao Sang leapt out, waving her hand: “Scatter now.”
The Divine Messenger of Fengdian, the Divine Messenger of the Lantern, and the others were bewildered but complied with the Holy Maiden’s orders. Some hastened to the entrance to return to the “Vacant Holy Land,” while others concealed themselves.
…
The world was colorless and pale, time seemingly frozen—this was the scene near the Sword Pavilion.
The raging blizzard had been dispelled by the Moon Mani Bodhisattva of the Lanke Temple. However, within dozens of miles of the self-destructive core, even her power could not protect everything. Mountains, rivers, land, and air were all frozen. Living beings and masters alike were frozen in place, encased in ice like statues.
Complete silence reigned here. Even the Sword Pavilion’s formation was frozen, and the ancient swords inside were no exception. Only a playground of snow and ice remained.
The wind blew, sunlight fell, and the ice began to melt, vaporizing people and objects together.
Only now did three figures emerge: the present Joyous Buddha, trembling uncontrollably; the Joyous Bodhisattva, seated upon a lotus with a pallid countenance; and the Yōumíng Dìjūn, leader of the Impermanence Sect, lying within a coffin shrouded in a layer of profound azure.
They had the strongest power and quickest reactions, nearly escaping the core. They had also fully activated their divine weapons, thus only suffering severe damage in the self-destruction. Even the divine weapons were somewhat damaged and required time to recover.
“Has the Cao family gone mad? They self-destructed their Immortal Corpse, their very foundation! What benefit did Gao Lan offer them?” Joyous Bodhisattva, having narrowly escaped death, struggled to maintain a smile on her beautiful face.
As a master of the heterodox sect, her martial arts experience was profound. A brief recollection clarified the Cao family’s stance and their previous feigned allegiance, filling her with confusion and fury.
“Without substantial benefit, would the Cao family do this?” Among the three, the current Joyous Buddha had the weakest cultivation, fearing betrayal. He spoke once and then concealed his aura, fleeing hastily into the deep mountains a hundred miles away, making himself hard to detect.
The Netherworld Emperor (Yōumíng Dìjūn) lay in his coffin, thinking of yet another sect leader lost to the Impermanence Sect, leaving only himself and the remaining heir at home. A torrent of bitterness welled up inside him, pain and hatred intertwined, so he remained silent. Crimson mist swirled, enveloping the nearly disintegrated coffin before it vanished.
Joyous Bodhisattva looked at the destroyed Sword Pavilion formation, weighing her remaining forces. With a hint of reluctance, she turned and fled toward the Eastern Sea, returning to the Fairy Realm of the Su Maiden.
Inside the Sword Pavilion, Li Si Nong held the Sword of No Birth, nearly exhausted. If not for the protective formation blocking most of the explosion’s power and her timely activation of the divine weapon, the Sword Pavilion would have been annihilated today.
Looking around, she saw Ma You unharmed, while the other disciples were mostly frostbitten but still had a chance of recovery. She finally exhaled in relief, took some pills, and desperately tried to recover.
Unaware of the current battle situation, she planned to quickly evacuate her disciples to a nearby city for safety.
…
The Kuíniú Demon King was relentlessly attacked from all directions by Su Wuming, making him appear extremely disheveled. Just as he finally found an opportunity, Yun He blocked his path again. Within ten breaths, the already wounded Kuíniú Demon King was pierced through the forehead by Su Wuming’s “Sword of No Self,” shattering his true soul and Dharma body.
Another Demon King had fallen!
The Blood Sea Rakshasa, relying on his Dharma body’s resistance to being killed, took advantage of Yun He blocking the Kuíniú Demon King to flee southward. However, Su Wuming was everywhere, sword strikes unceasing.
Initially, he could still fight back and retreat gradually. After ten breaths, he began to suffer injuries, his Dharma body being cut by the sword. If not for his unique cultivation technique, he would have already perished, but he could only desperately endure.
…
Witnessing the perilous situation, the Peacock Demon King Tai Li fully unleashed the “Demon Sage Spear,” creating an endless expanse of five-colored flames that separated him from Kong Wen. With a flap of his wings, he endured Su Wuming’s sword strike and utilized a treasure from the Fengshen World to transform into a golden beam of light and flee.
As the golden beam flew, Su Wuming was still omnipresent, sword beams continuously slicing into it.
By the time he reached the Eastern Sea, if not for the protection of the Demon Sage Spear and the five-colored divine light brushing away the sword beams, Tai Li would have either perished or lost his combat ability.
Retreating while fighting, he dove into the seabed, suddenly summoning an object. Its radiance enveloped him as he plunged into a sea vortex, vanishing completely.
Before an ancient and obscure palace, Tai Li appeared, his body wounded and his aura weak, but upon seeing this palace, he knew he was safe.
Above the palace hung a plaque inscribed with three demonic script characters:
“Yaohuang Hall!”
At this moment, Bai Ze Demon King, leading the escaped demons, also arrived here, surprised by Tai Li’s pitiful state.
“First, pass through the Yaohuang Hall to the Fengshen World,” Tai Li said solemnly.
…
The pale golden sword beam pierced through the layers of the Great Jin’s Void, arriving at the battlefield, yet only the now-transparent Kong Wen and Yun He, who were gathering the remains of the Kuíniú, remained.
“Where is the Demon Sage Spear?” Gao Lan, usually cold, was momentarily bewildered.
…
The Blood Sea Rakshasa was in a desperate situation, his blood shadows being severed one by one, nearing the limit where he could no longer “rebirth” from the Blood Sea.
Just as despair overwhelmed him, the sword beams suddenly vanished, and Su Wuming was nowhere to be seen.
The Blood Sea Rakshasa hesitated, then threw out the Blood Transformation Divine Blade, hiding his Dharma body within the blood world of the blade.
Only then did he relax, gritting his teeth: “It should have been mine…”
Inside the Sword Washing Pavilion, Su Wuming’s figure descended, lacking the usual ethereal presence from an indescribable height.
His expression remained normal, his heart calm as he muttered: “Twenty breaths.”
Then he turned, stepping into the meditation chamber to stabilize his Dharma body, leaving behind a fragment of the Heaven-Reflecting Mirror and a single sentence for Jiang Zhiwei:
“You keep it. I no longer need it.”
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