Before him stood numerous golden-bodied Buddhas shrouded in grayish-white qi, like a forest of stone statues. Yet, one could not overlook the golden staff rising into the boundless sky. At the junction between the staff and the heavens, a pitch-black, formless vortex slowly rotated, with thunder and azure lotuses continuously forming and dissipating around the staff. At times, it became a void of profound terror; at other times, star clouds gathered, radiant and pure.
This was the scene seen by Meng Qi, and everything felt unreal. Even the voice coming from the depths of the giant pit sounded distant, as if separated by mountains and rivers:
“Unleash the blade in your heart and see if you can save them.”
“Or, you die and they live.”
Jiang Zhiwei struggled desperately but couldn’t even shake her head, her mouth unable to utter a sound. Her throat emitted hoarse noises from frustration, her eyes filling with a mist of sorrow and anxiety. Her tearful gaze urged Meng Qi to flee immediately, not to worry about her and the others—where there is life, there is hope.
Zhao Heng, lying before the Giant Peng, kept his mouth shut and stared at Meng Qi with calmness, emotion, and determination in his eyes.
If you die, we may not survive either, but as long as you live, there is still hope for resurrection!
Ruan Yushu had been thrown to the ground, her white silk dress still bearing fragments of ice crystals. Her face was pale, lips devoid of color, and her entire body trembled involuntarily. She struggled to move her lips, trying to speak, but could not break free from the invisible shackles. Helplessness filled her gaze.
Her eyes quickly reddened, her thick lashes quivering, adding a sense of delicate vulnerability to her usual cool demeanor. Occasionally, illusory zither sounds escaped from her soul, chaotic and urgent.
For some unknown reason, Meng Qi suddenly recalled Ruan Yushu’s words:
“If one day you find an opportunity to escape the Six Dao, and He uses me to lure you into a trap, do not pay attention to me.”
“Being controlled by the Six Dao is essentially death anyway. It would be better to free one or two of you, and when you achieve great things in the future, you can resurrect me.”
Though the words still echoed in his mind, the situation had already unfolded before him. Meng Qi closed his eyes briefly. His right hand extended slowly but firmly toward the hilt of his blade.
Would you be content to draw your blade before even seeing the main adversary?
After ten years of hardship and suffering, would your essence, energy, and spirit now dissipate here?
Besides, whether it was the remains of Manjusri Bodhisattva, the Giant Peng bird, or the white celestial dragon, none were enemies he had specifically prepared for over the past decade. Their strength equaled that of an Earth Immortal, even surpassing that of Master Lu and Su Wuming. The chances of his blade succeeding were extremely slim…
Each self-questioning thought passed through Meng Qi’s mind, his gaze as deep as ever.
If only he were an emotionless robot, or if he could achieve the state of forgetting emotions like the Supreme Dao, then he wouldn’t hesitate, wouldn’t struggle, wouldn’t suffer.
But in a person’s lifetime, there are things more important than life itself!
With a soft “patta,” his right hand grasped the hilt of the Spirit Treasure Blade. With a “zeng” sound, he unsheathed the orange-yellow fire blade.
Light erupted, like the rising sun, illuminating the darkness, almost rivaling the flashing thunder.
The divine weapon remained as sharp as ever, exuding an unimaginable blade intent. Ten years of hardship had never made him forget to “sharpen the blade”!
Jiang Zhiwei looked at Meng Qi with a blurred vision, her eyes filled with sorrow and resistance. Tears streamed down from Ruan Yushu’s eyes. Zhao Heng turned his gaze away, unwilling to witness this outcome.
The orange-yellow fire blade grew brighter, its aura increasingly violent, as if a blazing sun were about to erupt, impossible to stabilize.
Meng Qi raised the long blade, which seemed ready to explode at any moment. Through the gaps, he gazed into the depths of the pit, where the angler awaited—his “true self.”
With a slow but firm voice, he said, “You want to possess me, don’t you? You want this body. Then release them, or I will destroy myself instead of letting you succeed!”
Simple begging would be useless. Surrendering would place all hope in the hands of the enemy. He could only fight by using himself as a bargaining chip.
From the depths of the pit, a distant, emotionless voice replied:
“I have more than just you as my fish. You are not as important as you think.”
“If you dare to destroy yourself, they will certainly die.”
As the voice faded, the remains of Manjusri raised the sword of wisdom, threatening Jiang Zhiwei.
Meng Qi’s eyes still concealed emotion. His blade flashed and turned downward, aiming at his own forehead.
I mean what I say. This is no joke!
The sword of wisdom followed, descending toward Jiang Zhiwei’s head, even more decisive and resolute than Meng Qi himself, for it was not his own life he was ending.
The sword light was pure, and the void itself seemed to generate sword intent. One by one, strands of hair in front of Jiang Zhiwei’s forehead fell, signaling the impending end.
Meng Qi’s blade hesitated. He lowered his head and slowly uttered three words:
“You win.”
Yes, the opponent remained unmoved. If his death could not save Jiang Zhiwei and the others, what was the point?
The three words echoed around, filled with humiliation and despair. A clear tear formed in Jiang Zhiwei’s misty eyes.
“You finally understand,” a cold, indifferent voice came from afar, and the sword of Manjusri had already stopped the moment Meng Qi’s fire blade halted.
Meng Qi raised his head, his eyes tinged with red:
“What do you want me to do?”
The indifferent, distant voice replied, “Seal your soul and body, walk before Manjusri, let him impose full restraint, then enter the Great Buddha Formation, and approach the golden staff.”
Meng Qi closed his eyes briefly, sheathed the long blade, and gently tapped his forehead and “niwan” point with his right hand, sealing both his soul and body. Then he walked toward Manjusri.
“Wuwuwu!” Jiang Zhiwei and Ruan Yushu desperately tried to speak but could not utter a sound. Their hoarse noises had turned into weeping. If they had even a little strength, they would have shaken their heads violently, trying to stop him at all costs.
Zhao Heng closed his eyes. A man does not easily weep, unless deeply moved.
Manjusri’s hollow eyes gazed at Meng Qi. Suddenly, a white arm appeared in midair, descending onto Meng Qi’s forehead.
Deep within the light of wisdom, every acupoint and organ within Meng Qi was sealed, preventing him from summoning his inner power. His soul was bound within the “niwan,” unable to exert its abilities.
Meng Qi turned to look at Jiang Zhiwei, Ruan Yushu, and Zhao Heng, his gaze filled with attachment. Yet, he turned back resolutely, stepping forward with the body of an ordinary man toward an inevitable fate.
Behind him were the sounds of “wuwuwu.”
After struggling all his life, he still could not escape his destiny.
Passing through the forest of golden-bodied Buddhas, Meng Qi’s vision suddenly opened. The golden staff stood at the center of the giant pit, thrust into the Lingshan. Around it bloomed azure lotuses, with thunder continuously flashing, surrounded by black qi. Yet, only the golden staff was visible—there was no sign of the Great Sage.
Not far from the golden staff stood a mountain, resembling a five-fingered palm!
The mountain was not high but heavy and solid. Atop it grew a Bodhi branch shimmering with seven-colored light. The entire branch was crystal clear, with nine branches, some dry, some flourishing, some illusory, some real, exuding a sense of great purity, wisdom, brightness, freedom, and bliss.
This Bodhi branch stood on the mountain peak, its light flickering like flowing water nourishing the seal!
At the center between the golden staff and the “Five-Fingered Mountain,” a figure stood with his back to Meng Qi, silently watching the blooming and withering of the azure lotuses. His figure was familiar, his demeanor indifferent, wearing a dark golden kasaya that exposed one shoulder.
Was this the angler? Meng Qi instinctively stopped ten steps behind the figure.
“This is your opportunity. Why resist?” The figure kept his hands behind his back and slowly turned around.
He revealed a face Meng Qi knew too well—it was his own!
The figure’s face shifted between two appearances—sometimes Su Ziyuan, sometimes Earth Meng Qi. Gradually, the two merged into a strange face that combined both, yet when one looked at it, it seemed to reflect the face one wished to see. Compared to Meng Qi himself, this face carried a hint of sinister intent.
Meng Qi’s expression and gaze suddenly calmed, as if he had already accepted his inevitable fate. He smiled slightly and said, “How should I address you?”
“A-nan, or the Demon Buddha?”
He paused, then continued, “Or should I say, the Master of the Six Dao?”
Boom! Thunder roared, galaxies formed and perished, illuminating the corner of the world.
The figure in the dark golden kasaya showed no surprise. Calmly, he said, “All are acceptable. A-nan is ‘me,’ the Demon Buddha is ‘me,’ and the Master of the Six Dao is also ‘me.'”
He admitted it openly, without the slightest concealment. He was A-nan, he was the Demon Buddha, he was the mysterious Master of the Six Dao!
“However, how did you know I am the Master of the Six Dao?”
Meng Qi sighed, “For a long time, I have been curious about certain martial arts techniques on the exchange list. They originated from novels, comics, movies, and TV shows I have seen, not truly existing. Why do they appear on the exchange list, and why can they be cultivated? If one says it’s due to the influence of real-world leakage, like myths, some figures, poems, and songs being projections of legendary experts and occasional coincidences, then why do they not exist even within the Real World?”
“I have never understood this, nor have I comprehended why my luck in the reincarnation missions was so extraordinarily favorable. Many tasks seemed custom-made for me. It wasn’t until Xi mentioned that the Master of the Six Paths was in a weakened state, and later I discovered that the Demon Buddha was my angler—who had reached the Other Shore (Bisheng) but was suppressed by the Buddha—that I began to suspect and piece everything together.”
“Your confirmation finally brings me peace. The small jade Buddha was proof of the fish. After a brief adaptation period, you let me begin contacting A-nan’s legacy, obtaining the true small jade Buddha that could open the door to Lingshan, gaining various benefits. But once I showed signs of wanting to break free, I was suppressed, assigned difficult tasks, and deliberately targeted, almost disregarding the rules, just like this time. If Zhiwei and the others wanted to end their return early, they probably couldn’t either.”
“Your original intention in becoming the Master of the Six Dao likely had two purposes: to cultivate your ‘fish’ through controlled tasks, and to explore the truth behind certain ancient matters without drawing the attention of other major figures.”
The Demon Buddha, wearing Meng Qi’s most familiar face, looked indifferent, a slight smirk on his lips, his hands behind his back, saying, “As the final calamity approaches, the seal has begun to loosen, allowing me to exert a bit of power through the reincarnation seal, seeking a way to escape in advance. Naturally, I don’t want others to discover this.”
“You were the ‘fish’ I deliberately severed contact with and hid on Earth. I am not unfamiliar with everything you have experienced. Su Ziyuan was just bait to deceive certain people. You are my true ‘fish,’ the fish I lured from Earth. Haha, even Lu Ya fell for it. Now, your Yuan Shi True Body is about to be completed. Once it fuses with the Tathagata Golden Body and the Rebellious Buddha Demon Body, I may immediately break free and find the final breakthrough.”
The Nine Forms of A-nan’s Tathagata Palm merged into the Tathagata Golden Body, proving the Tathagata Golden Body, though not yet fully developed, humbly called A-nan’s Dharma Body.
The Demon Buddha stepped closer to Meng Qi, examining him, nodding in satisfaction at his fish’s growth. Without any pressure, the atmosphere was suffocating beyond any intimidation!
After a few steps, he stood face to face with Meng Qi, their nearly identical faces only inches apart, their breath mingling.
“Cease your struggle, another ‘me.’ Soon, you shall experience the realm of Bisheng, a state you could never attain in your entire lifetime. This is the honor of being a fish—my gift to you.” The Demon Buddha’s gaze was profound as his form gradually dissipated. His right hand reached out and pressed against Meng Qi’s forehead.
Meng Qi did not struggle, seemingly accepting his fate. He stared at the Demon Buddha and suddenly spoke:
“Or should I still call you the Thunder God?”
The Demon Buddha froze.
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