The grass, dew-covered, sparkled in the sunlight, bending gently in the wind, while herds of cattle and sheep roamed the fields.
The Bodhisattva of Joy sat cross-legged upon a lotus platform, floating midair, watching helplessly as the martial cultivator who had been traveling the grasslands gradually disappeared into the distance. The cold wind howled from the high altitude, unable to scatter the radiant glow of the lotus platform, yet it chilled the Bodhisattva’s face.
Was it the wind that moved, or was it the heart that stirred?
In a daze, the Bodhisattva of Joy felt a sense of utter despair and meaninglessness. Was she truly destined to abandon her Joyful Demon Path and convert to the orthodox Buddhist sect, spending her days as a nun, accompanied only by an oil lamp and the passage of time?
Without a sound, without any ripple of power, merely one phrase—“The sea of suffering has no bounds; turn back and the shore will appear”—had imprinted itself upon her heart.
Ten years beside a solitary lamp, ten years before an ancient Buddha, ten years of silent meditation—had “Frenzied Blade” Su Meng truly brought the “Amitabha Breaking Precepts Sword Art” of A-nan to such a realm? Or was it a technique related to heart demons?
She could not understand. Still could not understand. The Bodhisattva of Joy realized she still could not discern Su Meng’s cultivation level.
The unknown is the most terrifying, inspiring awe and reverence. The Bodhisattva of Joy took a deep breath, calming her emotions, and murmured bitterly to herself, “Can’t I just return to the Su Nu Immortal Realm?”
No longer would she stir up winds and storms!
If divine weapons could block “Buddhist sounds,” then the Su Nu Immortal Realm could certainly do the same.
Concerned about unexpected incidents, she immediately rode her Nine-Petal Lotus toward the meeting place that Ying Ning had informed her of. Shortly after, she arrived and saw Ying Ning, who was clearly anxious, Shao Changge, who wore a faint sneer, and Duan Rui, the “Heavenly Demon of Countless Imperfections,” who struggled to suppress his violent temper.
“Master, you’ve returned!” Ying Ning blurted out instinctively, as if murmuring unconsciously.
“Greetings, Bodhisattva of Joy.” Shao Changge concealed his disappointment and dared not be careless, bowing respectfully.
Left-path and evil sects acted on impulse, and as a minor hermit, if he angered the furious Bodhisattva of Joy, she might kill him without hesitation. If there were benefits, the Luo Sect might not even intervene. Therefore, he could not provoke her.
Duan Rui kept his mouth shut, suppressing his violent emotions, and bowed reluctantly, his expression defiant.
The Bodhisattva of Joy had already regained control of her emotions, her expression calm and indifferent, as she said, “Liang Jiuzhou was rescued by someone, and the news has already spread. There’s no need to hide it anymore. Don’t take any action for now.”
Rescued? Ying Ning and Shao Changge were momentarily stunned. The number of experts capable of rescuing someone from the hands of the current Bodhisattva of Joy was extremely limited. Who had done it?
Haven’t heard of anyone arriving nearby? Could it be the ever-present Su Wuming?
“Rescued? By whom?” Duan Rui asked with a hint of challenge in his tone, his defiance evident.
This was due to his martial cultivation, difficult to suppress. If it weren’t for the presence of a Grandmaster, he would have shown it even more openly.
The Bodhisattva of Joy, tears barely concealed, maintained her calm and compassionate demeanor as she replied, “‘Frenzied Blade’ Su Meng.”
“‘Frenzied Blade’ Su Meng?” Ying Ning, Shao Changge, and Duan Rui all exclaimed in unison. The Bodhisattva of Joy had spoken the name gently, yet it struck like four peals of thunder on a calm day, each one shaking their very souls!
“He’s back?” Shao Changge stammered.
The matter of Gu Xiaosang’s death involved the dignity of the Eternal Mother. With Meng Qi also missing, the Luo Sect had kept it secret, seeking revenge in silence, only stating that the Eternal Mother, out of compassion for the world, had reincarnated once again to cleanse the infinite sins of the world.
The Bodhisattva of Joy’s expression was solemn and dignified as she slowly nodded.
“Yes.”
That single word shattered the heavens. Shao Changge staggered, feeling as if he might collapse at any moment. Though she had never met the Frenzied Blade in person, she was more familiar with him than anyone else here. Her young mistress had often mentioned Su Meng unintentionally, and through scattered words and phrases, she had pieced together a vivid image of him: a showoff who loved to display his prowess, a naive fledgling pretending to be experienced, a fool who often flew into a rage… Yet familiarity did nothing to dispel the fear.
What a figure her mistress had been! The most outstanding Holy Maiden in history! Her skills, cunning, and talent were unparalleled, and even at the same age, her strength and cultivation level were beyond comparison. Facing her, even a Dharma King would feel powerless, as if she controlled everything, making others unconsciously want to emulate her.
Though she now held a high position within the Luo Sect and was famous in the martial world, and might even become a Divine Envoy in the future, compared to her former mistress, she was like a firefly compared to the moon.
If even such a figure had ultimately perished at the hands of the Frenzied Blade Su Meng, how could he not inspire terror?
Even the defiant Duan Rui instinctively took two steps back, his heart filled with inexplicable fear. This was the strongest figure who had cast the deepest shadow on his youth. As Su Meng’s feats grew more legendary and his strength and cultivation level grew stronger, that shadow had only deepened. The past ten years, during which he had heard nothing of Su Meng, had been the most confident and self-assured period of his life.
And now, he had returned.
The calamitous star that once shook the entire world, forcing even the demons on all sides to retreat in terror, had returned.
The Bodhisattva of Joy spoke solemnly, “I suffered a hidden wound from him, and I won’t recover in the short term. I must return to the Su Nu Immortal Realm. Inform the Demon Sage, Dharma King, and the Raksasi about this.”
Her tone was calm, yet each word seemed to drip with blood. The hidden wound was truly not something to be spoken of lightly.
Duan Rui’s expression shifted a few times before he nodded fiercely, “The Blood Sea Raksasi is nearby now. If the Frenzied Blade hasn’t broken through to the Divine Body in ten years, he’ll have a bitter reckoning!”
The Bodhisattva of Joy hesitated for a moment, deciding not to betray her allies. The demonic sects could not afford many more setbacks.
Her expression turned grave as she said, “Although I still cannot discern his depth, I feel he is as terrifying as a Divine Body cultivator. If the Raksasi intends to act, she must be extremely cautious.”
Some of his techniques might even be more terrifying!
“As terrifying as a Divine Body cultivator…” Duan Rui’s face suddenly turned pale, and Shao Changge broke into a cold sweat, while only Ying Ning remained slightly composed, sighing inwardly:
“Ten years of silence, and now he emerges again. Will he, like the great roc, ride the wind and soar ten thousand miles into the sky?”
…
Mu Yunle followed the gray-robed monk Meng Qi out of the ruined temple and into the mountains. She saw that he did not ride a Daoist light, nor summon a gale, but instead walked steadily step by step. Her heart couldn’t help but leap with joy—she could keep up!
What she feared most was that the master would fly away, leaving her only able to watch from afar, satisfying her curiosity through imagination, unable to truly discover his identity, learn his story, or understand why he secluded himself in a ruined temple, avoiding the Buddha, only facing the lotus, his heart like ashes, filled with sorrow.
Taking a deep breath, Mu Yunle moved naturally, each step propelling her forward like a compressed distance, closely following Master Zhending.
However, although Meng Qi appeared to walk slowly, with each step he took, Mu Yunle found herself falling further and further behind, until even his back was nearly out of sight.
“Master, wait for me!” Mu Yunle blurted out.
But the gray-robed monk ahead ignored her completely, and within a breath, vanished without a trace. Mu Yunle stood there, stunned, puffing her cheeks out like a steamed bun, feeling both disappointed and dejected.
She lowered her head, kicking at pebbles as she walked slowly, muttering, “I haven’t even had time to ask about his story yet…”
She walked like this for quite some time, the sun rising over the hill, glaring into her eyes, and she was about to turn back toward the city she had left earlier.
Suddenly, her eyes caught a gray figure. She focused and saw Master Zhending sitting cross-legged behind a large tree, his eyes half-closed, his form giving an eerie emptiness. In the interplay of shadow and light, his withered face bore a strange charm.
Mu Yunle was momentarily stunned, then her lips curled into a smile. She bit her lip to suppress her laughter, stood up straight with her hands behind her back, and whispered softly to herself, “Although Master is extraordinary in power and appears dull on the outside, he’s actually quite kind-hearted. He’s still waiting for me here…”
…
In the Fengshen World.
In Luoyi of the Zhou lands, a man in his thirties stood outside the city gates, gazing up at the mighty city that had stood for centuries.
He maintained a beard appropriate for his status, his demeanor mature, his eyes slightly clouded with confusion. Looking at the weathered walls, he sighed, “When the world follows the Dao, rites, music, and military campaigns originate from the Son of Heaven. How I wish I could have lived in the era of Duke Zhou and witnessed the fullness of rites and music!”
He turned his gaze back toward the city gate, his expression gradually hardening with determination:
“But now, the world has lost its Dao. Rites and music have collapsed. The feudal lords act as if they were the Son of Heaven. Rulers do not act as rulers, ministers do not act as ministers, fathers do not act as fathers, and sons do not act as sons. There has never been a greater moral decline. Though we are humble, our aspirations must not fall. We must seek the Dao in antiquity and end this long, endless night.”
He took a step forward and walked toward the city gate.
“To the Zangshi Chamber, I come!”
Boom!
Suddenly, dark clouds gathered in the sky, lightning danced wildly, and the sky darkened before flashing with light.
…
Outside Guangling City, at the head of Fenghuang Isle.
Two men sat beneath a parasol tree, facing each other. One played an ancient zither, his face pale, beautiful like a woman’s, occasionally coughing. He was once the young master of the Wang family, and now the current head of the Wang clan—Wang Siyuan. He still appeared to be in his early twenties, his face marked with illness, his body frail, as if time had left no trace upon him.
The other man had ordinary features, wore a green robe, and sat with a steady, dignified posture. A red star was clearly visible on his forehead, adding an air of eerie charm. He was the leader of one of the Nine Evil Sects, the head of the Red Sect—the “Demon Emperor” Qi Zhengyan!
“He has reappeared. The Bodhisattva of Joy has met him,” Qi Zhengyan said casually.
Wang Siyuan stopped playing the zither, clenched his right hand into a fist, pressed it to his lips, coughed a few times, revealing a streak of crimson, then exhaled, “I know.”
“Then do you know why he didn’t kill the Bodhisattva of Joy?” Qi Zhengyan’s gaze was calm, as if asking a question, yet as if he already knew the answer.
Wang Siyuan took out a handkerchief, wiped his hands, and smiled faintly, “He spent ten years sitting silently in an ancient temple, burying his guilt, repression, resentment, madness, despair, pain, and deep hatred within his heart, refining and polishing his spiritual blade day and night, pouring all his essence, energy, spirit, and will into it. Cough, it wasn’t for the sake of killing a mere Bodhisattva of Joy.”
“Ten years of sharpening the blade, ten years of torment, ten years of suffering. When that blade is finally swung, it will shake heaven and earth. The first strike is powerful, the second weaker, the third exhausted. Unless he faces his true target, he will not strike.”
“Sounds like you know quite a bit,” Qi Zhengyan said calmly.
Wang Siyuan smiled, his face weary from illness, “I’m a fortune teller, so knowing a lot is normal. But even I can’t divine his true condition. Heh, if I could, I would’ve already attained the Divine Body cultivation.”
“I didn’t expect him to have reached such a point with the daughter of the Great Luo Sect,” Qi Zhengyan changed the subject.
Wang Siyuan shook his head, “Not yet, at least not ten years ago. Back then, I stood atop the city wall and heard his howl filled with guilt, pain, despair, and hatred. There was little heartbreak or deep affection. Cough, but ten years later, who can say? Memories beautify people. Guilt and nostalgia ferment feelings. When pain reaches its peak, sweetness follows. Today, when falsehood becomes truth, truth becomes falsehood.”
“Cough, Gu Xiaosang’s move was truly brilliant—using death as an advancement…”
Qi Zhengyan did not continue on this topic, instead asking casually, “You only have about ten more years left. Without attaining the Divine Body, you cannot survive. As the head of the family, why not marry and have children to continue the bloodline?”
“What use would I have for a wife and children? Without madness, one cannot achieve true mastery. Without cutting off retreat, one cannot find rebirth. Besides, the main branch of the family has more than just me.”
He gazed blankly at the swirling river, smiling faintly, “Practicing the art of divination and prediction, the greatest taboo is having emotions. Emotions lead to bias, and bias leads to blindness. With your memories of the Demon King, you should understand this well.”
Wang Siyuan slowly stood up, his face flushed with an unhealthy redness, and walked to the edge of the island. His tone was calm as he said, “Even if you descend into demonic ways, the bonds of brotherhood and life-and-death friendship still remain.”
With his back to Qi Zhengyan, he gazed into the distance without turning around:
“But as a fortune teller, aside from divination, I can only keep company with loneliness and madness.”
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