Chapter 140: The Fall of the Righteous Path

The air was thick with a pungent scent of scorching metal and roaring flames.

From the locations of the two massive formations, two figures successively burst forth: the Sword Demon and Lin Feng!

The Sword Demon was in rags, his body looking as though it had just been soaked in a vat of crimson dye. He threw his head back and laughed maniacally. The eerie red light between his brows had completely vanished, and the Blood-Drinking Sword was nowhere to be found.

"Incompetent fools! I have already forged the body of the Blood-Rakshasa; how could you possibly hope to kill me? Hahaha! Fellow Daoist Fengchen, Consort Xiang, the task entrusted to us by the Cult Master is complete. Farewell for now!" With a violent shudder, the Sword Demon whipped up a surge of crimson light and fled, vanishing without a trace.

As the Monarch of Demonic Dust was locked in a critical clash with the venerable monk Zhiyuan, he had no mind to spare for anything else. Seeing the Sword Demon flee mid-battle, Shen Yinnan let out a cold snort, yet she was similarly occupied and unable to pursue.

Turning to the seven cultivators who had surrounded the Sword Demon, each was severely wounded, drenched in blood, and pale as a ghost. Sun Yingming's injuries were the most critical; having taken the brunt of the Sword Demon's attack head-on, his internal organs were displaced, and his Golden Core shattered. Whether he would survive was entirely up to the whims of fate. Lin Feng, conversely, was unscathed thanks to the protection of his Form-Leaving Garment. He quickly linked up with Yu Xi to escort their senior brothers to a clear patch at the summit, where they sat down to mend their wounds on the spot.

Cang Bailang swallowed a Taiyi Jade Restoration Pill, tilted his head back, and sighed, "We fell into the demonic faction's treacherous scheme. Instead of subduing the demons, the vast majority of us have been incapacitated, and countless magical treasures are destroyed. We have failed our Sect Master, and we have failed righteous practitioners across the world..."

Among all the senior apprentice brothers, he possessed the greatest seniority and age. Seeing his voice crack with grief, the others fell into a heavy, sorrowful silence, weighed down by an inexpressible agony.

"Blech!" Suddenly, Sun Yingming spewed a mouthful of fresh blood, amidst which rolled the Swift Wind True Dew Pill he had just swallowed. The color drained entirely from his face, and he slumped sideways into Lian Huanzhong's arms.

"Eldest Senior Brother! Eldest Senior Brother!" Lian Huanzhong cried out in helpless panic, his voice laced with grief.

Everyone froze in place, their faces etched with profound sorrow as they bowed their heads.

"My fellow apprentice brothers, we have practiced the Dao for decades, and our bounden duty is to eradicate demons and uphold the righteous path. To lay down our lives for righteousness, and to serve until our dying breath—only thus can we live up to the teachings of our ancestral masters. Even in death, our names shall echo through eternity, shining as brightly as the sun and moon!" Feng Xianyuan's voice was low and resonant, his gaze firm as he swept it across those haggard faces.

The others nodded silently. But at that very moment, a piercing scream echoed from the west. Startled, everyone whipped their heads around. Instantly, they sprang to their feet, their faces contorted with shock and disbelief, which rapidly devolved into cries of anguish: "Master!" "Uncle-Master!"

Amidst a torrential rain of swords, Yan Dongjue tumbled backward through the air, his white robes dotted with blooms of fresh blood. The wound on his back was rapidly spreading, staining half his lapel red.

Cang Bailang and the others cast aside their own injuries, scrambling forward pell-mell. Lin Feng and Yu Xi were the fastest, catching Yan Dongjue's falling, plunging form from either side.

"Master! Master!" Panic-stricken, the disciples scrambled to support him, carrying him up to the summit as they frantically drew out their own spiritual elixirs, desperately urging Yan Dongjue to swallow them.

High in the clouds, Shen Yinnan, the Heavenly Demonic Cult Envoy and Consort Xiang, stood alone, gripping her sword. Her jade face was pale, her eyes flickering with a faint trace of panic and anguish as she stared deeply at Yan Dongjue.

"Witch! I'll fight you to the death!" Su Shenwu's Pacifying-Army Divine Axes were already ruined, so he hastily summoned a pair of heavy, black, whirlwind battle-axes, preparing to charge at Shen Yinnan.

"Third Brother, don't go... You are no match for her..." Yan Dongjue gently waved a hand, opening his eyes to survey his surroundings. Catching his breath, he murmured, "It is nothing. Help me sit upright, and fetch a pellet of Azure-Heaven Jade Dew Pill."

His disciples hurriedly offered their various spiritual elixirs. Yan Dongjue swallowed one, then closed his eyes and remained silent. Color gradually returned to his pale face, and the group finally breathed a sigh of relief.

By now, the surrounding righteous cultivators who had been nursing their wounds hurried over, their faces laden with concern and anxiety as they crowded around Yan Dongjue.

Clang! Chen Yu Xi suddenly brandished her sword, pointing it into the distance. The rest snapped to attention, and in an instant, magical treasures flared to life all around—though they were a mere façade, devoid of true strength.

The demonic woman sneered, her lotus steps shifting gracefully as she walked toward them. Her posture was willow-waisted, her skin whiter than snow, and her beauty was soul-stirringly breathtaking. Yet, in the eyes of the gathered cultivators, she was no different from a ghastly demon.

Hum— Right at that moment, a violent, trembling chime rang through the air. The all-pervasive, solemn Buddhist chanting suddenly vanished by half. The golden lotus throne beneath the venerable monk Zhiyuan lost all its divine radiance, and the solemn forehead of the Void-Storehouse Bodhisattva in the void unexpectedly revealed a bizarre strand of black Qi. The surrounding sea of white lilies trembled violently, pitching and rolling as if caught in a hurricane.

A trio of demonic auras coiled around the Monarch of Demonic Dust, and the illusory blood dragon above his head grew even more solid. From somewhere, he suddenly let out a wild roar, and the ferocious blood dragon bared its fangs and brandished its claws, plunging downward with a thunderous crash into the boundless sea of Buddhist lotuses. It carved through them like a hot knife through butter, its momentum unstoppable!

Zhiyuan snapped his eyes wide open, his lips moving rapidly as he chanted Buddhist incantations. The infinite Buddhist lotuses boiled and retreated, forming a massive character of auspiciousness that unleashed ten thousand streams of golden light to block the ferocious blood dragon. The dragon's head smashed against the Buddhist symbol, shattering into countless fragments under the golden radiance, and was fiercely suppressed downward. Yet, from the shattered head and body of the dragon, billowing clouds of black Qi rose, swirling around Zhiyuan. At that very instant, the Void-Storehouse Bodhisattva behind the venerable monk revealed a ferocious, sinister sneer at the corners of its mouth, and gently brought its palm down upon the monk's back!

Boom! The golden-leaf magnolia cassia rippled without wind, its golden light and Buddhist mantras dimming instantly. Everyone witnessed this unbelievable spectacle: the immortal-like monk spat out a ball of black blood, the sacred radiance of the Void-Storehouse Bodhisattva behind him completely dissipated, and after several violent tremors, it revealed an extremely malevolent avatar of a demon god—black-faced with sharp tusks, bare-handed, and muscles brimming with explosive divine power. Just as it struck an offensive posture, it dissolved into the void.

"Zhiyuan! How does it taste? That you could hold out for this long genuinely exceeds my expectations." The black baleful aura surrounding the Monarch of Demonic Dust completely dissipated. His expression was as casual and poised as a young noble of a noble house, bearing no resemblance to a peerless demonic overlord.

"Amitabha. This poor monk's skills are inferior; I have nothing to say. Though your demonic arts are formidable, if you intend to rely on this trick to harm righteous practitioners across the world, this old monk will not allow you to have your way."

Zhiyuan pressed his palms together in a salute, then closed his eyes and silently circulated the wondrous Flower Garland Sutra to mend his wounds.

On the side of the righteous path, seeing two great masters consecutively injured, an ominous premonition instantly gripped everyone's heart.

The Monarch of Demonic Dust smiled coldly and shouted, "Rumor has it that Buddhist practitioners leave behind relics and spiritual bones upon entering Nirvana. Today, I shall put this claim to the test! Zhiyuan, produce your Buddhist treasure and fight me again!"

"Amitabha. This old monk's physical vessel is already of no use, yet discarding it feels a pity. Very well, let us bring this cause and effect to a close, and see what the will of heaven dictates!"

Zhiyuan spread his palms flat, laying his Buddhist tin staff across his knees. The twelve golden rings on the staff flashed dazzlingly, and the white pearl atop it gleamed brilliantly. Armed with this treasure, Zhiyuan slowly rose from the lotus throne, standing tall and straight amidst the clouds. The golden rings swayed in the wind, casting a mysterious, unfathomable cross-shaped brilliance.

Everyone was captivated by this fierce battle. Shen Yinnan also halted her steps, casting a sideways glance, seemingly brimming with absolute confidence and paying no heed to the numerous righteous practitioners before her.

"Very well! Witness my Five Elements Astral-Sura Sword Array!"

The demonic master swept his left hand against the wind, and instantly, a torrential rain of swords rippled through the heavens. Flying sand and rolling stones danced as flames and thunder roared in unison. Amidst the flashing sword gleams, an aura of destruction spun violently, filling all who watched with terror and dismay.

Only Zhiyuan stood proudly in the firmament, his short, stout figure appearing as towering as a pillar holding up the heavens. The tin staff in his hand and the lotus throne beneath his feet simultaneously bloomed with radiant divine light, and a ring of Buddha-light faintly materialized behind his head. He looked like the Buddha incarnate, his majesty too overwhelming to behold directly.

"Golden Astral Sword Fiend!"

Boom! Ten thousand golden swords, like a forest of spears and a rain of arrows, filled the sky as they furiously shot toward the venerable monk! Almost simultaneously, the white light erupting from the tin staff in Zhiyuan's hand surged violently, eventually enveloping his entire body. Thousands of cross-shaped starlight beams burned brighter and more dazzling than the stars in a midnight sky. The starlight exploded outward, meeting the incoming Golden Astral Sword Fiend in a cataclysmic, earth-shattering roar!

"Wood-Rotting Wolf Smoke!"

Before the onlookers could even catch their breath, the second sword fiend descended. A swath of ink-thick black smoke, shaped like a howling wolf and reeking of unknown poisons, poured from the demonic monarch's fingertips straight down toward the crown of the monk's head. This black smoke transformed into a sword, silent and soundless, yet pregnant with boundless murderous intent.

"The throat-sealing wolf-poison grass!" Yan Dongjue's face lost a few more shades of color. His eyes filled with sorrow, and he could not bear to look any longer.

Others might not recognize the wolf-poison grass, but the disciples of the Hundred Flowers Sect were intimately familiar with it. This flora possessed another name: heart-breaking grass! By refining his sword fiend with this virulent poison, the Monarch of Demonic Dust had multiplied its lethality manifold; to touch it meant instant death.

"Amitabha!" Zhiyuan chanted loudly, taking a calm step forward to meet this toxic sword astral. The twelve golden rings on his tin staff spontaneously detached, forming a web of light that firmly intercepted the terrifying sword glow. By the time the clash subsided, the golden rings had completely melted away. The black sword Qi plummeted to the dust, causing the rocks, grass, and trees beneath the clouds to wither and perish instantly.

"Ice-Crystal Fort Wall!" The demonic monarch widened his arms, and sword intent gushed forth. Hexagonal diamond pillar sword auras, flickering with a deep blue radiance, violently tore through the airflow and shot out in parallel trajectories, each bearing infinite might, laced with a glacial frost akin to billowing steam.

Zhiyuan erected his tin staff by his side, parted his lips, and suddenly let out a deafening roar: "Roar!"

The powerful airflow and sonic waves shattered space itself, whipping up howling gales that completely pulverized this wave of glacial sword Qi. Cheers erupted from the righteous camp, though no one noticed that a mist of blood, churned up by the soundwaves, had already drifted away with the wind.

Zhiyuan's previously ruddy complexion grew even more brilliantly flushed, and a single drop of sweat silently rolled down his forehead. He closed his eyes and sat cross-legged on the lotus throne. Uncomprehending, the onlookers held their breath as they watched.

Yan Dongjue sighed softly, knowing in his heart that the old monk could no longer withstand the demonic monarch; his fate was likely sealed. While his fellow disciples focused their attention entirely on the two combatants, Lin Feng, hearing his master's sigh, felt a stirring of curiosity. Upon reflection, he understood three parts of the situation, and couldn't help but worry deeply for the venerable monk Zhiyuan.

"Zhiyuan, two forms remain. Let us see how long you can hold out—take them both together! Radiance Splitting the Horizon!... Wheel of Fortune!"

The Monarch of Demonic Dust transformed into a spinning streak of light and shot straight up into the heavens. Boundless sword intent spread outward amidst flashing lightning and roaring thunder. His figure resembled a giant, high-speed, spinning sword, his baleful presence earth-shattering. After describing a massive circle in the high vault of the nine heavens, he plunged straight down at Zhiyuan with unstoppable momentum! Pressing down simultaneously was the boundless gravitational force cultivated by the demonic monarch, shattering the void at a visible rate as ripples and cracks spread successively through the air.

This patch of heaven and earth fell into a dead silence. Everyone looked on in panic, secretly breaking out in cold sweat.

"Om..."

"Ma..."

"Ni..."

The clear, bright Buddhist chants rang out like celestial music, striking people's hearts with a profound sense of tranquility and peace. Imbued with myriad nuances and Buddhist principles, they imparted a feeling of sudden, profound enlightenment to all who heard them.

With the appearance of every single syllable of the six-syllable true mantra, another halo of light materialized behind Zhiyuan's head. Countless esoteric Buddhist scriptures floated up from his golden-leaf magnolia cassia, gradually converging into a massive character of auspiciousness to protect the monk's physical form.

"Padme..."

The moment the fourth mantra was chanted, the overwhelming pressure of the sword astral struck.

Boom! Golden mist, fiery red lightning, and murmured Buddhist sayings converged like the most violent waves surging across the firmament. At that moment, the true nature of events was obscured from sight; endless explosions echoed across the skies of Chessboard Peak. Miraculously, ten thousand Buddhist Sanskrit chants resounded through the cosmos, seven-petaled lotus flowers blossomed everywhere, the clouds dispersed, and a rainbow stretched across the horizon.

"Uncle-Master!" Lingchi and the others, their eyes brimming with tears, broke out of formation and knelt toward the heavens, unable to rise for a long time.

The Poison King and other members of the demonic faction stood to the side, watching coldly without seizing the opportunity to strike a fatal blow.

"Heaven is truly blind! For a monk of such peerless divine power to actually fall at the hands of the demonic path—what use are these Sanskrit chants? The heavenly Dao is truly heartless! A man has died, yet a rainbow appears. Could it be that even the heavens take joy in this?"

Grief-stricken and helpless, the crowd stared blankly at this bizarre spectacle, rendered speechless. Lin Feng gazed fixedly at the clusters of white lilies, an inexplicable wave of indignation surging within his breast.

The Monarch of Demonic Dust pulled himself free from the dissipating smoke. His exquisite face was covered in cuts, his robes reduced to mere rags, and his eyes burned with intense hatred. Sweeping his gaze over the remaining righteous cultivators, a murderous intent abruptly materialized.

Suddenly, thousands of white lilies converged into a single point, rippling with layers of golden light whose blinding radiance was almost too bright to look upon.

"The old monk really did forge a relic!" A thought flashed through the Monarch of Demonic Dust's mind, and he dashed forward, eager to seize that ten-thousandfold golden light.

However, that radiance, brilliant as the sun, abruptly evaded him at ten times the speed, flying like a shooting star directly toward the righteous cultivators. Before anyone could process what was happening, it stopped right in front of Lin Feng and plunged fiercely straight into the center of his brow!