Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils: The Successor of Bodhidharma

Page 42

Huang Shang's claws were fierce, and the Nine Yin True Qi penetrated his body, directly seizing his heart meridian!

"Pfft——!"

"Crack——!"

"Bam—!"

Blood rained down from the sky! Murong Bo's body was torn apart in mid-air by four completely different yet equally domineering forces! Limbs and fragments of internal organs fell like a rain of blood!

Qiao Tian, ​​Qiao Feng, Xie Xiaoyu, and Huang Shang stood proudly in mid-air, slowly landing. Their black robes and beggar's clothes were stained red with blood, adding to their godlike and demonic aura! Only Huang Shang's blue robe remained clean, untouched by blood, as if the cruel scene just now had nothing to do with him.

Xie Xiaoyu laughed heartily, patted Huang Shang's shoulder heavily with his blood-stained hand, and praised, "Young brother! Your martial arts are truly impressive!"

Huang Shang looked at the clear bloody handprint on his shoulder, his lips twitched slightly, and finally he sighed helplessly.

Xuan Nan finally recovered from his shock. Looking at the horrific scene in the center of the plaza and the four proud Wudang disciples standing there, he trembled with rage, pointing at Qiao Tian and shouting fiercely:

"Qiao Tian! You...you Wudang are outrageous! How dare you commit such a brutal massacre in the sacred Buddhist land! You...you have no respect for the law! You have no respect for Shaolin!"

Qiao Tian slowly turned around, wiped a drop of blood from his cheek, and looked at Xuan Nan with icy eyes. Before Xuan Ci could speak, the murderous aura surrounding him and the thunderous methods he had just displayed made Xuan Nan's words get stuck in his throat.

Chapter 126 This Seat, Asura

On the winding mountain road of Shaoshi Mountain.

The autumn wind was bleak, swirling up a few withered yellow leaves.

An elderly monk in a worn-out gray robe bowed his head, slowly sweeping the dust and fallen leaves from the stone steps with a slightly worn bamboo broom. His movements were gentle and natural, as if he were one with the mountain, the wind, and the fallen leaves, full of Zen. Each swing of the broom carried a strange rhythm, as if he were not sweeping the floor, but brushing away the dust from his heart.

Suddenly, the broom in his hand paused slightly.

He slowly raised his head, his seemingly cloudy eyes appearing to pierce through layers of mountains and palaces, seeing the soaring bloodlust and killing intent rising from the mountaintop plaza. He sighed softly, his voice aged and compassionate, echoing along the desolate mountain path:

"Alas... Oh, my wickedness, my wickedness... Greed, anger, and ignorance are like raging fire, burning down the forest of merit... What a terrible thing to do..."

Before he finished speaking, the look of compassion in his eyes suddenly froze, turning into a piercing light that seemed to penetrate the void!

He suddenly turned his head and looked at a dense thicket of bushes beside the mountain path!

"Wow—!"

Almost the instant he turned his head, several birds in the bushes, as if startled by an invisible force, took flight with sharp cries, scattering into the sky in panic! Immediately afterward, the bushes, along with a massive boulder that a person could barely encircle, seemed to be detonated from within by an invisible, violent force, exploding with a deafening roar! Smoke and dust, mixed with debris, shot into the sky, forming a straight column of smoke, like a roaring earth dragon, moving with incredible speed and carrying a destructive aura, relentlessly and relentlessly crushing towards the spot where the sweeping monk stood!

Before the smoke and dust even arrived, the terrifying killing intent and the extremely refined true energy contained within had already crushed and pulverized all the vegetation on both sides of the mountain path!

Faced with this sudden and terrifying attack, powerful enough to tear a top-tier expert to shreds in an instant, the Sweeping Monk showed no panic whatsoever. He didn't even move a step, but simply casually handed forward the bamboo broom in his hand and lightly swept it across the ground.

There was no earth-shattering roar, no explosion of colliding true energy.

An invisible and intangible barrier, yet undeniably real, seemed to have been born from the void and stood firmly three feet in front of him!

The roaring torrent of dust, the shattered boulders, and the violent true energy contained within, upon impacting this three-foot-high wall of energy, were like raging waves crashing against an unchanging ancient reef, producing an extremely muffled hum. They were abruptly stopped, disintegrated, and vanished without a trace! The fierce force cascaded to both sides, carving deep furrows into the rock walls on both sides of the mountain path, yet within three feet of the sweeping monk, not a speck of dust remained, not even the hem of his monk's robe was stirred!

As the smoke and dust dissipated, four ghostly black figures silently appeared around the Sweeping Monk. They were completely shrouded in night clothes, revealing only pairs of cold, lifeless eyes devoid of any human emotion. Their positions were mysterious, their auras merging into one, almost as if they were a single entity. Each held a strangely shaped short blade, its blade gleaming with a ghostly blue light, clearly coated with deadly poison.

Without any communication, the four moved simultaneously! Their figures were like four black lightning bolts, striking the Sweeper Monk's vital points from four completely different angles, accompanied by piercing shrieks that tore through the air! Their coordination was impeccable, their attacks flowing like mercury, sealing off all space for evasion!

The sweeping monk remained motionless. He slowly raised his head, and his once compassionate eyes now blazed like the scorching sun, or thunder from the deep sky! He didn't look at anyone, but calmly surveyed the crowd.

The four assassins froze the moment they met that gaze! They seemed to see the Buddha's wrath, Vajra subduing demons! Boundless majesty, vastness, and compassion, yet carrying the will to subdue all heretics, surged into their minds like a torrent! Their spirits, hardened by brutal training and as firm as iron, crumbled instantly under this gaze imbued with supreme Buddhist power, like ice and snow under the sun! Their movements became fatally frozen!

In that instant of stillness, the sweeping monk moved. He remained in place, but the hand holding the broom trembled very slightly at his wrist.

"Poof!" "Poof!" "Poof!" "Poof!"

Four soft sounds rang out almost simultaneously.

A tiny red dot, deep enough to expose bone, appeared between the brows of all four assassins. The light in their eyes dimmed instantly, and they froze in place, still in their forward-charging posture, before collapsing limply to the ground, lifeless.

Until their deaths, they never saw how the other party made their move. That slight flick of the broom seemed to have triggered some unseen rule, transcending space and shattering their lives.

The sweeping monk's eyes remained unmoved, as if he had merely brushed away a few annoying mosquitoes. But his grip on the broom tightened slightly. His gaze returned to the four corpses.

The moment his gaze fell upon them, another unexpected event occurred!

The four corpses turned black and shriveled at a speed visible to the naked eye. Then, like bones that had been weathered for thousands of years, they broke apart inch by inch and finally turned into four pools of black ashes. They were blown away by the mountain wind and disappeared without a trace, leaving not even a trace behind!

Destroy the body and cover up the evidence, leaving no trace whatsoever!

For the first time, the sweeping monk's gaze became incredibly solemn. He slowly raised his head, his eyes like two tangible beams of light shooting towards the sky above.

Suddenly, a figure appeared silently atop the canopy of an ancient pine tree above his head.

The woman was dressed in a fiery red robe, her face covered by a hideous Asura mask, revealing only a pair of deep, icy eyes that held a languid indifference to all living beings. Her figure was graceful, her long sleeves fluttering in the wind. The sleeves seemed light and soft, but to the sweeping monk, they felt as heavy as ancient black iron, their edges even faintly tearing through the air.

She stood there, as if she had been there from the beginning, blending into the mountain, the clouds, and the pines, yet also feeling out of place.

"Amitabha." The sweeping monk clasped his hands together, his voice returning to its usual calm tone, yet carrying an unprecedented solemnity, "Grandmaster, what brings you to Shaolin?"

The woman in red didn't answer, but instead looked down at him. The next moment, she moved!

Without warning, her figure seemed to merge into the wind in an instant, disappearing from the spot!

Almost simultaneously, a red afterimage seemed to traverse space, appearing before the Sweeper Monk! A jade-white hand emerged from the wide sleeve, its five fingers slightly curved, seemingly gently pressing towards the Sweeper Monk's chest. This palm strike was devoid of any physical force, not even stirring up the slightest air current, yet within its force lay an unparalleled will to control the universe and decide life and death! It was as if she had not struck with a palm, but rather issued a supreme and inviolable decree!

A hint of surprise finally appeared on the usually impassive face of the sweeping monk. He dared not delay, and his feet, which had remained motionless, finally slid back half a step. He raised his right hand, his index finger and thumb gently snapping together, as if he had grasped an invisible flower, and then slowly flicked it out to meet the jade palm.

A smile as he plucks a flower, a flick of his finger as thunderclap!

"Boo--!"

A strange, soft sound, like a bubble bursting.

The two did not touch, but the space within that small area seemed to collapse inward suddenly, and then expand violently! An invisible shockwave spread out from the two of them, and the stone steps of the mountain path within ten feet behind the Sweeping Monk were crushed into dust as if by an invisible giant hand! The woman in red used the force to float backward and landed lightly back on the top of the pine tree, as if she had never moved.

"Master, your Buddhist supernatural powers are truly exquisite." The woman in red spoke, her voice coming through the mask, carrying a peculiar magnetism. Her age was indiscernible, yet it contained an air of authority that came from long-held power. "You withstood my 'Reign Over the World' move without retreating, truly worthy of the Shaolin tradition."

The sweeping monk shook his head slightly: "You flatter me, benefactor. Your palm strike has already grasped the essence of 'momentum,' it is neither force nor skill, but close to the Dao. I merely used a trick, borrowing the thousand-year-old Zen essence of Shaoshi Mountain to counter it."

"Power?" The woman in red chuckled softly, but there was no warmth in her laughter. "Under the whole heaven, all land belongs to the king. On the shores of the land, all people are subjects of the king. The greatest 'power' in the world is in the Forbidden City, on the dragon throne!"

Before she finished speaking, she moved again! This time, it wasn't a single dash; her figure seemed to transform into dozens, even hundreds, of streaks, rapidly spinning around the Sweeper Monk. Red sleeve shadows filled the sky, like a net covering the heavens, or a phoenix dancing in the nine heavens! Each sleeve shadow was as heavy as a mountain and as sharp as a knife, attacking the Sweeper Monk from all directions, above and below! Even more terrifying was that those sleeve shadows contained a strange power that eroded the spirit and shattered the will!

The Sweeping Monk, at the eye of the storm, wore an extremely solemn expression. He no longer remained stationary; his footwork shifted rapidly, as if treading on lotus blossoms, moving nimbly within a limited space, dodging the deadly sleeve shadows at the last possible moment. His hands, whether fingers, palms, fists, or claws, effortlessly employed the seventy-two Shaolin arts, yet transcended the mere forms. Each strike contained pure Buddhist power and a profound understanding of the essence of martial arts, clashing fiercely with the countless sleeve shadows!

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The sound of their clashing energies was like a dense rain pattering on banana leaves, incessant and deafening! The speed at which the two fought was so fast that if anyone present were lucky enough to witness it, they would probably only see two blurry figures, one gray and one red, colliding wildly. Wherever they passed, rocks crumbled and ancient trees snapped, as if two ancient ferocious beasts were locked in a life-or-death struggle!

Suddenly, the sweeping monk found a fleeting opening! His eyes blazed with Buddhist light, and the three-foot-long wall of energy that had been hidden for so long suddenly contracted, condensing on his right palm, making his entire hand seem to transform into a glassy gold! He took a step forward, his figure passing through layers of sleeves as if by teleportation, and his glassy gold palm, carrying a vast and mighty power capable of both saving all living beings and suppressing all evil, struck straight at the heart of the woman in red!

This palm is unavoidable!

The palm passed right through the woman in red's body without any resistance!

However, the Sweeper Monk's expression suddenly changed! He felt as if his palm strike had hit empty air! The "body" that was struck exploded, but it was not flesh and blood. Instead, it turned into red shreds and swirling true energy, like red butterflies, scattering in all directions!

Almost at the same time, a calm voice sounded from behind him:

"The master's 'Prajna Palm' power has indeed reached a state of perfection."

The sweeping monk slowly withdrew his palm and turned around.

Three steps behind him, the woman in red appeared, still standing with her hands behind her back, her toes lightly touching a reed swaying in the wind. The reed was slender and delicate, yet it bore her weight without moving an inch. The Asura mask on her face was still ferocious, but her eyes remained as deep and indifferent as ever.

She looked at the sweeping monk, nodded slightly, and introduced herself, her voice clearly reaching the sweeping monk's ears:

"I am Asura."

"By order of Lord Jintai, the chief steward of the Dragon Guard, I have a question for the master."

Chapter 127 A Century of Mountain Closure

A mountain breeze swept by, stirring up the fine dust left from the fierce battle, but it couldn't dispel the heavy, almost palpable atmosphere between the two.

The sweeping monk clasped his hands together, his eyes, which had seen through the ways of the world, calmly gazing at the red-clad Asura on the reeds, and slowly said, "Amitabha... I wonder what questions Lord Jintai has for this old monk?"

Shura's voice, though pierced through the mask, still carried that unique magnetic indifference: "Master is a wise man. He should know that in this world, apart from the inner palace, only Master himself has openly entered the realm of Grandmaster."

She paused slightly, as if observing the sweeping monk's reaction. Seeing that he remained calm and composed, she continued, "Master, do you know why, in this vast world, no new grandmasters have been born in the last hundred years? Even those with extraordinary talent who have touched the threshold find it difficult to truly take that step?"

The sweeping monk lowered his eyelids slightly: "Is it related to the imperial court?"

"Indeed." Shura nodded, his tone calm, yet he revealed a long-forgotten secret of the martial world: "Ever since Emperor Song Zu conquered four hundred military prefectures with a single staff and established his rule over the Central Plains, he has been well aware of the power of the martial world. If it is not controlled, it will become a major threat. Especially Grandmasters, who can be worth a thousand soldiers. If they harbor rebellious intentions, the consequences will be unimaginable."

"Therefore, the founding emperor once issued the 'Demon-Slaying Order'." Her voice echoed with a hint of coldness, "The first generation of the Dragon Guardian Pavilion will take action to challenge the world! Those who reach the Grandmaster realm will only have two paths to choose from."

"Firstly, one should enter the Dragon Guard Pavilion, pledge allegiance to the imperial family, and protect the Song Dynasty."

Secondly, ...death.

These few words, though brief, seemed to carry the weight of bloodshed and violence, painting a picture of the brutal clash between imperial power and the most powerful forces in the martial world. The sweeping monk's fingers, which were holding prayer beads, paused slightly. Although he had already guessed it, hearing it with his own ears still sent a chill down his spine.

“After that battle,” Shura continued, “the grandmasters in the martial world, either entered the Guardian Pavilion or perished, and many of their lineages were also broken. The Guardian Pavilion was thus formed, gathering the world’s top martial arts forces, becoming the sharpest… sword hanging over the entire martial world.”

Her gaze swept over the sweeping monk: "And your Shaolin Temple is no exception."

The sweeping monk slowly raised his head: "I would like to hear the details."

"In the previous generation of your temple, there was a high-ranking monk of the 'Ling' generation, Zen Master Lingguan." Shura uttered a name that made the sweeping monk's eyes narrow slightly. "He was also one of the grandmasters who was forced to make a choice back then. He chose to join the Dragon Guard Pavilion on only one condition—as long as Shaolin does not openly rebel or commit any heinous acts, the Dragon Guard Pavilion must ensure that Shaolin's lineage continues and its incense burns out."

"Master Lingguan..." The sweeping monk chanted a Buddhist prayer in a low voice, a complex look flashing in his eyes.

"Master Lingguan is now His Majesty's close bodyguard, often using the substitution technique to shield His Majesty from countless open and hidden attacks." In Shura's tone, there was a rare hint of respect. "He exchanged his freedom for the peace of Shaolin."

She changed the subject abruptly, her gaze sharp as she locked onto the Sweeper Monk once more: "And I have come here today on the orders of Lord Jintai. What I am doing is similar to what I did to Zen Master Lingguan back then. It is also to give the Master and Shaolin a choice."

"Lord Jintai asked me to ask the Master: Today, on Shaoshi Mountain, a great storm has arisen, and grudges and entanglements have occurred, causing damage to Shaolin's reputation. The Master clearly has the ability, so why has he not shown up to intervene and turn the tide?"

The sweeping monk calmly said, "In the mundane world, grudges and entanglements have their own causes and effects. The Buddhist temple is a pure place, but it is not a place to shelter right and wrong. This old monk is just a sweeping Taoist, who only seeks to sweep the snow in front of his door and does not care about the frost on the roof."

"What a fine 'not caring about the frost on the roof'!" Shura's voice rose slightly. "It is precisely because the master chose to remain a bystander today, refraining from rash actions due to the loss of Shaolin's reputation, that Lord Jintai ordered me to appear and speak these words to the master. Otherwise..."

Although she didn't say it aloud, the lingering killing intent had already spread. If the Sweeper Monk stood up for Shaolin today and displayed "selfishness" and a desire for control that transcended those of ordinary people, then what awaits him and Shaolin is probably a merciless and thunderous strike from the Dragon Guard Pavilion.

"Now, the choice is before you, Master." Shura's voice returned to its cold tone. "The imperial court does not want another uncontrollable grandmaster to appear in the martial world, nor does it want to see the Buddhist and Taoist sects lose their balance of power and cause further turmoil because of one person."

"Lord Jintai's intention: Please, Master, restrain Shaolin Temple from this day forward and close the mountain for a hundred years."

"Within a hundred years, Shaolin disciples shall not be involved in large-scale conflicts in the martial world. They may only chant sutras and worship Buddha within the temple and study Buddhist teachings. In this way, the imperial court can protect Shaolin's transcendence, and the masters can continue to cultivate themselves here and comprehend the Great Dao."

"This is the court's bottom line, and also... a favor."

These words were like an invisible shackle suddenly falling! This meant that Shaolin would voluntarily withdraw from the struggle for supremacy in the martial arts world, its influence would plummet, and it would be almost like imprisoning itself!

The sweeping monk fell silent. He looked up at the mountaintop, where the bloodlust and clamor seemed to be gradually subsiding. He then looked down at the broom in his hand, as if contemplating the fate of the ancient temple he had guarded for decades.

After a long while, he let out a long sigh, a sigh filled with endless vicissitudes and a trace of relief.

"Amitabha... Life is like a game of chess, the universe is unpredictable." He spoke slowly, his voice carrying a weariness born of a profound understanding of fate, "This time, the imperial court has actually intervened in the affairs of the martial world ahead of schedule because of this boy, Qiao Tian..."

He looked at Shura again, his eyes now calm and resolute: "Please inform Lord Jintai."

"This old monk represents Shaolin..."

"I agree."

"We will close our mountain for a hundred years and quietly recite Buddhist scriptures. From now on, the affairs of the martial world will have nothing to do with Shaolin."

Upon hearing this, a faint hint of satisfaction seemed to flash in Shura's deep eyes. She nodded slightly: "Master is wise. I will certainly convey your words."

Having said that, she said no more. Her red-clad figure seemed to blend into the wind, retreating silently and disappearing into the vast forest in an instant, as if she had never existed.

On the mountain path, only the sweeping monk remained, standing alone in the autumn wind.

He gazed in the direction where the Asura had disappeared, then looked up at the clear sky, finally fixing his gaze on the broom in his hand. He chanted softly, his voice faint and dissipating with the wind:

"Having weathered all the tribulations... my Zen heart remains unchanged..."

"But this martial world... is likely about to face an unprecedented storm..."

Chapter 128 True Martial Formation

At the foot of Shaoshi Mountain, in a pavilion.

A refreshing autumn breeze rustled the bamboo curtains surrounding the pavilion.

Jin Tai, dressed in a plain-colored robe, sat on a stone bench, leisurely flipping through an ancient book in his hands. On the stone table in front of him was a pot of wine and a cup. He poured himself a drink, displaying the demeanor of a master with profound wisdom and lofty integrity.

Suddenly, a gentle breeze swept through the pavilion, and a fiery red figure quietly sat down opposite him.

Without any hesitation, Shura reached out and picked up the unfinished wine pot in front of Jintai, tilted her head back and gulped down several mouthfuls in a row, her demeanor unrestrained and carefree, a stark contrast to her previous indifferent and dignified image.