The young monk’s gaze swept over the faceless Buddha statue, its head bowed as if lost in contemplation, then shifted to Yuan Kong, who sat cross-legged in meditation.
Despite Xu Jin’s furious rebuke, the monk’s heart remained as calm as still water, though he knew this battle was inevitable.
A gentle smile graced his lips as a vast illusory Buddhist realm materialized behind him, stretching across the sky, dwarfing the modest confines of the Zheng Yin Dharma Temple.
The young monk spoke softly, as if in negotiation: "Our duel should not harm others. The lives here should not bear the cost of our conflict—to bring ruin upon the innocent is a sin."
Yet even as he spoke, the Buddhist realm behind him descended toward Xu Jin.
Xu Jin’s expression remained unshaken. A flash of cold light sliced through the air, deflecting the incoming realm with a single stroke. The resulting shockwave nearly flattened the Zheng Yin Dharma Temple in an instant.
Only the Grand Hall remained standing, shielded by Xu Jin’s power.
The young monk’s eyes narrowed slightly, his smile stiffening.
A longsword materialized before Xu Jin.
"Do you think I care about this monk’s life?" Xu Jin grasped the hilt, his gaze locked onto the young monk. "You wish to protect this faceless Buddha, but I have no obligation to spare Yuan Kong."
The Mysterious Purity Heavenly Sect had once monopolized spiritual veins and shattered the Eastern Victory Divine Continent—what restraint would they show now for the sake of a mere Buddhist disciple?
Some matters left no room for sentimentality or hesitation.
Between the lives of the world and a single monk, Xu Jin knew his choice. If it were his own life at stake, the Mysterious Purity Heavenly Sect would act without question.
The infamy could rest on Xu Jin and his sect’s shoulders.
No justification was needed—only a clear conscience.
Xu Jin’s eyes gleamed with icy resolve, his stance unyielding: "Either let him see what lies beneath, or I’ll slaughter all of you and find out myself!"
The young monk’s smile vanished entirely. The Buddhist realm dissolved into motes of light, swirling around him before coalescing into an ornate staff—nine dragons coiled around its length, a symbol of divine majesty.
With a single shake, the Nine Dragons Staff resonated like a tolling bell, its vibrations rippling outward.
The monk raised the staff, pointing it at Xu Jin, his voice solemn:
"Do not think your disguises fool us. The Buddhist arts of revelation stand unrivaled. Xu Jin, core disciple of the Mysterious Purity Heavenly Sect—will you persist in your delusion?"
Xu Jin showed no retreat. "Whether I am Xu Jin is not for you to decide. Even if I admit it, your Buddhist order may not dare acknowledge it."
The young monk spoke no more. He simply lifted the staff and brought it down.
Above, a colossal golden fist tore through the clouds, illuminating the Zheng Yin Dharma Temple as bright as day before crashing down.
The motion seemed slow, yet it arrived in an instant.
Xu Jin moved without hesitation. His blade flashed, a frigid arc of sword light soaring skyward.
He made no move to shield Yuan Kong—that devastating slash aimed solely for the young monk.
The sheer force of the strike reduced the Zheng Yin Dharma Temple to rubble in its wake.
The message was clear:
Kill Yuan Kong if you must. Today, only one of us walks away.
Seeing Xu Jin’s unrelenting resolve, a flicker of resignation finally surfaced in the young monk’s eyes. He hurled the Nine Dragons Staff forward.
Xu Jin ignored the projectile, his sword already at the monk’s throat.
He held nothing back—today, success was the only option.
Opportunities like this came but once. If the Buddhist order left such openings often, they would have perished long ago.
The blade’s cold light froze the very air.
The young monk’s fair face turned pure gold in an instant. With his staff already thrown, he had no choice but to meet the sword with his bare hand.
A head-on block would be fatal—better to lose an arm than his life.
Boom!
A blinding radiance erupted as spiritual power clashed, scattering countless sparks.
The young monk was sent flying, tumbling through the air before righting himself. When he steadied, his left arm was gone, his once-majestic golden robes in tatters.
Xu Jin did not press the attack. Instead, his gaze flicked toward the Grand Hall.
The Nine Dragons Staff had embedded itself into the hall’s floor, its golden light weaving a protective barrier around the structure—without it, the aftershocks would have leveled the building.
The young monk hovered aloft. "The Buddha approaches. He will arrive within moments. While I stand, you will hear nothing from Yuan Kong."
"Withdraw now. Avoid unnecessary strife."
Xu Jin sneered. "What is the Buddhist order hiding that it fears exposure so much? Do you truly believe a Buddha can suppress me?"
The young monk pressed his remaining hand in a solemn gesture. "The Buddhist order conceals nothing. The question is—what does the Mysterious Purity Heavenly Sect hide? Do you think your allies outside can truly delay the Buddha? You underestimate us."
His voice sharpened suddenly. "By the power of the Buddhas—manifest!"
As the words left his lips, the Buddhist realm reappeared behind him.
Xu Jin reacted instantly—whatever trick the monk planned, the surest counter was to strike first.
Under the moonlight, amidst the golden radiance, a silent sword cut through space, extinguishing sound and crushing momentum.
Yet from the dazzling light of the Buddhist realm, a plump hand reached out, pinching the blade’s edge between two fingers like plucking a flower.
An overwhelming pressure followed—the aura of a supreme cultivator.
"Violence begets suffering. You tread the path to Avīci."
The voice from the Buddhist realm was gentle, almost pitying.
"Lay down your blade. Seek not enlightenment, but peace within your heart."
This time, the words came not from the realm, but the young monk himself.
His eyes lifted, now devoid of emotion. His severed left arm regenerated—a translucent golden limb joining his right in prayer.
The Buddhist realm faded, yet the oppressive pressure grew even more tangible.
The monk’s voice resonated with sacred power, each syllable birthing golden lotuses at his sides—a sign of a Mahayana Buddha’s enlightenment.
Xu Jin recalled his sword.
The young monk’s smile returned, serene as ever:
"Surrender… or perish?"
Xu Jin inhaled softly, meeting his gaze. For some reason, he felt he’d learned too much from Chu Xingchen:
"Next time, spare us the sanctimony. Today, we’ll see who perishes."