Buried Love Mage Monk Huaikong

The next morning.

In the grotto-heaven of the aquatic clan's side hall.

Amid the rushing river, a serpentine shadow surged upstream, churning up great waves of white foam, occasionally darting swiftly to avoid the reefs beneath the water.

The current grew fiercer, yet the serpent—Li Mo in his Jiaolong form—never faltered, never swept away by the torrent.

Speed had always been Li Mo’s weakness.

But now, as a Jiaolong, with just a bit of practice, he moved through the water as if divinely aided.

Splash—

Water erupted as the serpentine figure leaped into the air, transforming mid-flight into a bare-chested youth.

Under the sunlight, Li Mo’s upper body was a sculpted blend of power and streamlined grace, reminiscent of a panther, his skin faintly gleaming with a dark sheen. Though not overly bulky, there was an undeniable aura of immovable strength about him.

The spectral Jiaolong shadow behind him only accentuated his extraordinary presence.

The reactions of the nearby female demons said it all.

"Demonic beasts truly are born with innate gifts," Li Mo mused, shaking off the water droplets.

His speed in the water now was only slightly slower than Huang Donglai’s on land.

The benefits were immense.

But there were downsides too.

Uncle Chen’s morning visits had grown longer, and restless urges bubbled up more frequently...

Whenever this happened,

To clear his mind, Li Mo could only meditate on the frozen figure in his consciousness—the Ascension to Immortality Diagram—drawing on the moon’s cool essence to soothe his spirit.

Yet his soul showed no growth. As a demonic beast, he could no longer contemplate other divine intents.

"No wonder Brother Murong keeps failing at abstinence."

Li Mo now understood just how weak Murong Xiao’s weakness truly was.

Softness and hardness often complemented each other. When one part was too soft, another inevitably became too hard.

Splash—

The raging river gradually calmed. Wu Qing, satisfied yet surprised, remarked:

"Impressive. You’ve mastered the Jiaolong clan’s water manipulation arts already."

"At the seventh rank, my speed was barely this fast."

Li Mo clasped his hands in gratitude. "Many thanks for your guidance, Aunt. By the way, I haven’t seen Brother Murong these past two days. How’s his training at the Hanging Temple?"

As he spoke, he pulled out some dried meat for breakfast.

"Xiao’er..." Wu Qing’s expression turned complicated.

"Given his half-demon nature, joining the Hanging Temple hasn’t been easy."

"Mm... It is a sacred Buddhist site, after all," Li Mo nodded in understanding.

"And the masters say his worldly attachments remain strong, especially in matters of love..."

Li Mo sighed, recalling the instincts hardwired into male Jiaolong. "Brother Murong tries his best. It’s just... ineffective."

"Indeed. Fortunately, his spiritual roots are exceptional. Master Hengyuan overruled objections to accept him and even gave him a dharma name."

"What is it?"

Li Mo took a bite of jerky, already amused at the thought of addressing Murong Xiao by his new title.

"Cang’ai."

Pfft—

Li Mo spat out his jerky.

Appropriate? Absolutely.

But something about it felt... off.

Cang’ai... Monk Cang’ai?

A nonconformist monk?

Well...

A half-demon becoming a Buddhist disciple was pretty nonconformist.

Clang—

A bell’s toll pierced the clouds, resonating through the grotto-heaven.

It was the Hanging Temple’s signal for the end of morning lessons—and a reminder to all demons in the grotto-heavens.

The battle for the Celestial Jade was about to begin.

Li Mo and the other demons exited the grotto, passing beneath the Marriage Tree before arriving at the Hanging Temple’s main hall. Unlike the gilded splendor of typical temples, this was an ancient, unadorned monastery.

A crowd had already gathered.

Beyond the disaster-beast clans, young elites from the major southern tribes stood alongside their elders.

Li Mo scanned the crowd, activating his Heaven’s Eye.

The "ice block" (Qingluan Goddess) hadn’t arrived yet.

He pulled out a notebook and began jotting down observations.

Soon,

A sudden influx of information made him pause.

A golden-haired, golden-eyed youth in golden armor and wings—the same peacock who’d previously blocked his path with a flock of admirers—stood out.

[Name: Zhi Duoluo]

[Age: 29 (4,120)]

[Lineage: Golden Roc Bloodline]

[Realm: Seven-Aperture Insight]

[Destiny: Blue tinged with Purple]

[Evaluation: Divine Son of the Hundred Beasts Hall, a branch of the Demon-Summoning Sect. Born from Han Zhen’s palm-mysticism and the Golden Roc’s divine intent before the fall of Great Shang. Slumbered in the southern wilds for millennia. Cultivates the True Scripture of Divine Summoning, growing his soul through worship. Aims to resurrect the Golden-Winged Great Peng, one of Great Shang’s sacred totems.]

[Recent Activity: Plans to exploit the conflict between Wu Mo (Li Mo) and Qingluan Goddess for personal gain.]

No wonder Zhi Duoluo had intercepted him that day.

The peacock had his eyes on Li Mo’s so-called "true dragon bloodline" all along.

"Again with the Demon-Summoning Sect..."

Li Mo glanced at the half-demons around Zhi Duoluo.

Sure enough—all affiliated with the sect, all high-ranking names on the Hidden Dragon Ranking.

"The Hanging Temple remains aloof from worldly conflicts," Li Mo mused.

"The temple’s experts might know but choose not to intervene..."

He withdrew his gaze, expression turning wry.

Mutual destruction?

Between him and the "ice block"?

Li Mo suddenly realized he’d overestimated the threat.

These half-demons were hardly worth his concern—unless the Demon-Summoning Sect dared make an open move on the Hanging Temple’s turf.

A bit of caution would suffice.

"The Qingluan Goddess has arrived."

"Look at her—undeniably pure-blooded. A true phoenix incarnate."

"Lower your voice! She may seem aloof, but she’s ruthless. Since emerging, she’s slain over a hundred disaster-beasts—averaging two a day."

"Is she looking at me?"

"Dream on! She’s staring at Wu Mo!"

"Fated rivals! Why else would they spot each other instantly in this crowd?"

Whispers buzzed among the demons.

Li Mo’s gaze drifted downward.

There, peeking from beneath her robes—the socks he’d given her.

His lips curled.

"Hmph..."

A soft, frosty exhale from the Qingluan Goddess.

To outsiders, it was a chilling rebuke, reinforcing her untouchable, lotus-like nobility.

But to Li Mo?

Adorable.

Once, her jade-carved, ice-veiled face had seemed too cold to approach.

But now?

He’d picked those socks himself.

Meanwhile, Zhi Duoluo and his faction struggled to suppress grins.

Fight.

They had to fight.

Then a little provocation...

Heh heh heh!

"Amitabha."

A chant echoed as monks filed from the main hall. Leading them was Hengyuan and other elders in patched robes.

The foremost monk’s eyebrows were white as snow, his garb so threadbare he’d blend seamlessly with beggars—albeit the cleanest one.

Yet none of the demons present dared to look down upon the abbot of the Suspended Temple, all bowing their heads in respect.

Divine Monk Huaikong, a seventh-rank Palm Mystic.

This was why, when it came to the Celestial Jade, even the demon tribes had to abide by the rules set by the Suspended Temple.

At that moment,

the Palm Mystic Sage’s gaze suddenly fell upon the young man and woman standing at the forefront of the demon crowd.

Huaikong paused, momentarily taken aback.