The roaring winds died down. The fissures narrowed. The void became semi-solidified, resembling layers upon layers of crystal.
Two towering figures stood in confrontation deep within the Ling Mountain. Their dark golden and pitch-black skeletal auras clashed silently in midair, erupting in bursts of “dazzling radiance.”
These flashes of “light,” fleeting as dew and lightning, seemed to reveal ephemeral worlds within their birth and dissolution—like mirage and foam.
The jet-black skeleton, emanating a pure white glow, suddenly took a step forward. In that instant, the entire spirit realm seemed to tremble. Behind it, the blood-yellow river, upheld by the Ruler of Yama and other underworld sovereigns, surged violently, roaring and swelling.
Splash!
Amidst the illusory sound of rushing water, the blood-yellow river swelled, engulfing the crevices as if bridging the spirit mountains beyond its unfathomable depths.
Within the collapsing Buddhist temple, along winding paths, numerous Arhats, Tianlong, Bodhisattvas, and Vajras, wreathed in deathly mist and malevolent aura, simultaneously lifted their heads.
Ten, a hundred, a thousand… countless golden bodies, tarnished and decayed, bore traces of blood-tears upon their faces. Their Dharmic forms radiated immense power as they roared in unison with deafening voices:
“Huangquan!”
These zombies, transformed from Arhats and Bodhisattvas, instinctively soared into the air. From all directions, they hurled themselves into the illusory blood-yellow river, swarming like locusts, blotting out the sky and covering the earth, giving the impression that not a single Buddhist monk remained in the three realms and ten directions!
Alongside them, giant tigers and spiders, their bodies decayed, also entered the “Yellow Spring River,” exuding grayish-white death aura.
In an instant, the spiritual mountain seemed completely emptied, the deathly aura dissipated, and all impurities vanished.
Merged with the remnants of Arhats, Bodhisattvas, great demons, and malevolent spirits, the blood-yellow river swiftly shifted from illusion to reality, manifesting out of thin air. Innumerable corpses drifted within its currents, bobbing up and down. The splashing waters imparted to Meng Qi a faint sensation of his memories and consciousness being eroded away!
Nowhere could be more suitable for the Huangquan skeleton than Lingshan now. Its power had increased manifold!
(Note: I’ve maintained “Huangquan” and “Lingshan” as proper nouns in pinyin since they appear to be names or specific terms in the original context. If they should be translated differently, please provide additional context.)
Facing Jiaye’s dark golden body and serene smile, the Huangquan skeleton clenched its black-boned right hand into a fist and struck fiercely at its opponent. The real blood-yellow river surged high into the sky, crashing down with a thunderous roar, surging forward with the fist like the Milky Way cascading from the ninth heaven!
Splash!
The flowers beneath Jiaye’s remains withered. The boundless pure land and myriad worlds vanished. The dark golden Dharma body was stained with grayish-white, slowly decaying, its radiant great light entirely swallowed by the blood-yellow hue.
“Ah!” Jiaye’s Dharma body let out a soft sigh. His right hand rose, middle finger and thumb touching to form the “flower-plucking” mudra, then gently flicked outward.
This finger strike was neither the Tathagata Palm’s “Flower in Hand” nor Bodhidharma’s self-created “Flower-Plucking Finger.” It was Jiaye’s own creation—”All Is Emptiness”—seemingly blending the Tathagata Palm’s “All Four Elements Are Void” and “All Phenomena Are Impermanent.”
The dark golden finger struck toward the Yellow Springs skeleton’s fist.
Purity naturally emerged from the void. The blood-yellow river suddenly transformed, turning translucent inch by inch, revealing countless Arhats, Bodhisattvas, demon kings, and celestial beings. Yet they shattered one after another like mirages!
Life and death are impermanent, fleeting. All is emptiness!
Peng!
The dark golden finger collided with the jet-black fist radiating white brilliance, freezing midair. The blood-yellow hue of the Yellow Spring receded as countless powerful zombies it had absorbed disintegrated. Meanwhile, Jiaye was continuously eroded by the raging waves of the river, his golden Dharma body gradually showing signs of decay. The surrounding void shattered like crystal.
As the void shattered, Meng Qi suddenly soared into the air, shifting position and changing direction, appearing far away without looking back, rushing madly toward the deepest part of Mount Ling.
Without the slightest regret, he abandoned the skeleton of Huangquan, remotely controlling it to resist the remains of Jiaye.
The gales blew again, more rifts appearing. Meng Qi quickly distanced himself from the battlefield. Suddenly, a gigantic dark golden finger abruptly emerged, pointing toward his forehead.
This finger resembled a vajra pillar, guarded by the Eight Heavenly Dragons, solid and unyielding. Amidst his fierce battle with Huang Quan, Jiaye could still divert a portion of his strength to intercept Meng Qi, showcasing his formidable cultivation!
Meng Qi’s gaze deepened, his fleeing speed unchanged, charging straight ahead. The dark golden finger suddenly trembled slightly, deviating oddly, passing by him without hitting.
The power of fate was formidable!
Especially since the majority of Jiaye’s forces were entangled with Huangquan!
Along the dark and winding path, Meng Qi ran farther away, the prickling sensation on his back gradually fading.
At this point, he understood he had escaped Jiaye’s threat.
Yet deep within Ling Shan, he dared not relax. Jiaye had perished here; next, he might encounter powerful beings like Bodhisattva Manjusri or Bodhisattva Samantabhadra, who were stronger than most of the Seven Buddhas of the Past!
Not Buddhas, yet surpassing Buddhas!
Whether it was because Huang Quan’s strike had fused over ninety percent of the Dharma Body zombies or because the deepest part of Ling Shan held unique peculiarities, after escaping Jiaye, Meng Qi encountered no more tarnished Arhats, Bodhisattvas, or Tianlong, nor any gigantic Demon Kings or Demon Gods. The entire Ling Shan suddenly seemed quiet, with only the distant roar of the Great Sage Equaling Heaven echoing afar.
This silence made Meng Qi’s surroundings feel even more eerily still.
The heavens and earth remained dim, the rifts dense, with gales tearing at his flesh. As Meng Qi walked, he felt an eternal loneliness—so profound that even his shadow could not accompany him.
Still gripping his long blade in his right hand, Meng Qi’s face, illuminated by flickering lightning, revealed depth, solemnity, and concern.
Walking endlessly, Meng Qi lost track of time, as if crossing countless mountains and rivers. Finally, light appeared ahead. He saw the nearby heaven-piercing golden staff and the massive crater, large enough to contain an entire city.
At this moment, most of the lightning had dissipated, and the lotus blossoms had withered. The surroundings were plunged into utter darkness, his senses completely suppressed. Meng Qi could only faintly perceive countless black vapors swirling at the center of the crater, twisting and writhing like a demonic dance. Along the edges, the crater walls, and the surrounding areas stood numerous golden, pure Dharma bodies, their immense and terrifying power comparable to Jiaye’s. Yet, thick layers of filth and deathly aura had deeply penetrated their forms, rendering them decayed and sinister in appearance!
“These must be the Buddhas who attained Nirvana here long ago, numbering in the hundreds…” A thought stirred in Meng Qi’s mind. He realized he had indeed reached the deepest, central location.
This must be the summit of Mount Ling, where the Buddha delivered sermons in ancient times.
Judging by their numbers, most of the Buddhas from the Sahā Pure Land and the Buddhist sect had likely attained Nirvana here!
What had transpired during the ancient battle of Lingshan to lead to such a tragic outcome… Meng Qi realized he was on the verge of confronting ancient myths, possibly uncovering the truths of that bygone era.
What had Ananda done to incur the wrath of the great sages and demon gods, a hatred so profound that it pierced the heavens and endured through countless eons?
Honglong!
Lightning flashed, and the blue lotus bloomed. Starry clouds condensed, weaving countless Milky Ways. The surrounding scenery suddenly became crystal clear.
Indeed, the golden staff stood firmly at the center of the crater, encircled by flashes of lightning, blooming blue lotuses, and swirling black mist. Beyond them stood countless towering golden Dharma bodies of Buddhas, resembling a forest of statues, seemingly forming a grand formation.
Their golden Dharma bodies were tarnished, shrouded in a pale gray aura and black mist, emanating an air of death and malevolence. Yet within them still lingered traces of immense purity and bliss.
Blood stains remained on each Buddha’s face, as if tears of blood had once flowed.
“Buddhas also weep, all weep. What truly happened back then…”
As this thought crossed his mind, Meng Qi heard the golden Dharma-Body Buddhas emit a resonant chant in unison, unleashing a roar brimming with hatred that pierced the heavens:
“Ananda!”
…
In the world of Fengshen.
Under Meng Qi’s guidance, Kong Zhao traversed numerous feudal states, witnessing countless events. His philosophy gradually took shape.
Gazing at his seemingly sleeping teacher inside the carriage, he mused, “My teacher’s questions are always perfectly timed, allowing me to truly summarize my thoughts, integrating learned texts, vague notions, and reality. Slowly forming a philosophy distinct from other sages. Truly an excellent teacher, possessing profound knowledge and insight, like a divine dragon soaring through the ninth heaven.”
“But why won’t he truly guide me, always remaining silent? Does he intend to wait for the right moment, until my doctrine becomes fully coherent?”
Kong Zhao could hardly contain himself, eager for his teacher’s guidance.
…
“Ananda!”
The Buddhas’ voice of hatred entered Meng Qi’s ears. He stood entranced, as if in a dream.
Ananda? The hatred spanning countless eons toward Ananda—wasn’t it the demon race? Meng Qi’s hair stood on end, a chill creeping into his bones.
He had betrayed the Saha Pure Land, yet why was he still pursued by the demonic sages?
What was his obsession?
Ananda was far more than just a later incarnation of the Demon Buddha!
As his thoughts surged, Meng Qi stared at the forest of golden Dharma-Body Buddhas ahead, his eyes flickering.
At that very moment, a blue lion emerged from within, bearing a pure and radiant Bodhisattva.
“Manjusri…” A tension gripped Meng Qi’s heart as he spotted the person held in the lion’s mouth.
“Zhiwei!”
Jiang Zhiwei’s face was pale, her eyes lifeless, unable to move as the lion gripped her clothes.
At the same time, a white celestial dragon and a golden-winged roc emerged from the “forest” formed by the golden Dharma-body Buddhas, tossing Ruan Yushu and Zhao Heng before Meng Qi.
They were just like Jiang Zhiwei, unable to resist, not even blinking, their eyes filled with anxious urgency as they stared at Meng Qi.
From the depths of the crater, a distant, indifferent voice drifted:
“Unleash the blade of your heart. See if you can save them.”
(Note: The original Chinese phrase “刀of the heart” appears to be a poetic or metaphorical expression. The translation preserves the imagery while adjusting for natural English phrasing. If “刀” refers to a specific cultural concept that should be retained literally, an alternative could be: “Unleash your heart’s dao. See if you can save them.”)
“Or, you die and they live.”
Upon hearing these words, Jiang Zhiwei struggled violently, her mouth emitting muffled sounds, her head shaking ever so slightly, trying to signal Meng Qi to abandon them, preserve his life for future chances of revival.
Yet held by the azure lion, her slight head movements and voiceless cries only filled her crystal-clear eyes with urgency, a mist forming within.
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