Daoist Master of Qing Xuan

The Buddha seemed furious as he simultaneously manifests into many different incarnations. In the blink of an eye, Shen Lian was surrounded by a circle of Buddhas.

Shen Lian showed no signs of panic for the most dreadful time had passed. Under the light of his heart, his memory fragmented and he was forgetting who he was.

One was able to face any danger if one knows himself well enough.

He did not have many dangerous encounters in his life, nor had he had it easy. But his attitude towards this had always been consistent, always calm. A victory meant an obstacle conquered while a lost did not mean anything, no feelings of dismay and no disappointments.

For all the terrors that waited between life and death, ordinary people will rarely experience something unexpected or surprising. Shen Lian was born with an indifferent demeanor, a state of mind that did not waste time on unnecessary things.

The surrounding Buddhas had no other expressions but anger. Akin to Vidyaraja, it was Buddha’s manifestation of anger, a raw anger that could turn a thousand worlds into ashes.

Shen Lian closed his eyes and opened his mind. His body experienced an indescribable feeling of clean purity as if he was the clouds. He landed in the pool and his being scattered and reunited, his image combining and separating into a thousand forms, as the water remained clear.

In the mind’s eye, there was still no way to differentiate the Buddhas that surrounded Shen Lian, and they spun around him quicker and quicker, as the circle gradually shrunk.

Shen Lian did not have the magical strength to fend off the coming attack, eradicating these manifestations, so he had to wait for his best chance to strike.

It did not matter if his mind’s eye could not see a way out, he needed to rely on his instincts, a sense of his enemies’ weak points and land a convincing strike. From there, only would he be able to find his way out of this predicament.

Fang Yanying walked to Shen Lian’s side. Uncle-master’s hand was grasping on to the lamp, devoid of flesh and blood, all that was left was bone. To the side sat the coffin, a horrible aura emanating from it. One could also see the flicker of embers within.

If the embers were aggravated in any way, it would ignite the aura bleeding from the coffin, setting off a monstrous blaze that would destroy everything in its path, together with uncle-master and herself as well.

She could not help as she held the mystical sword in hand, her breathing in sync with the sword and concentrated her internal energy towards the sword. She let out a loud shrill as she slashed and a void appeared in space. This was the soul of the sword and its instinct to protect itself.

And from the void manifested a white-robed monk, and his speed was too fast for Fang Yanying’s spiritual sense to perceive. All she could do was hold on to the mystical sword as tightly as possible, not letting anything near her.

She could feel the mantra sweeping across the lamp held by uncle-master many times, each time he let out an agonizing cry. Following it was an urge of greed that made her extremely uncomfortable.

Fang Yanying understood that the lamp was precious. But for a Buddhist monk to still carry such greed in his heart, it was incomprehensible because the stronger the greed, the harder it was to abstain oneself from it.

The terrible aura in the coffin transformed into a massive swirling spiral with the ember enclosed in the center. Beneath the ember, the lower part of the coffin, gushed a thick black pool of liquid that slowly crept outwards, unbeknownst to them what kind of creature could this be. It climbed up the walls of the coffin but had hit an invisible force that forced it back down. All while the black spiral continuously released more of the aura, completely filling the coffin and enclosing the ember.

The ember did not move, and this prevented the terrible aura from igniting itself and letting out its monstrous energy, truly releasing its shackle to the coffin, releasing the pool of darkness within.

As for Shen Lian, his real concern were the surrounding Buddhas that were gradually getting closer, and they were very close already. Any closer and Shen Lian would be crushed into dust.

Shen Lian did not resist, as it went on he was calmer, the corners of his mouth curled upwards, revealing a faint smile that was as pure as a lotus flower, recalling the Mastery of Senses.

This was the world’s most profound spiritual enhancement in Dharma and once it was cast, it would be lonely, surreal, and passive.

He did not find any loophole in the oncoming barrier formed by the Buddhas, but he discovered a flaw that may be helpful. With such rage, why did they not punish him as swift as fire and lighting?

At that moment, Shen Lian entered into a state without temptation, through the mystical Art of Spiritual Enhancement. Untempted, unmoving, peaceful and without scars.

All the Buddhas eventually stilled and melded into a black-robed monk, who hoarsely whispered, “So you have mastered the Dharma by the highest and most supreme predecessors, I will honor that and let you go, you need to only aid me in escaping and I can even grant you a favor.”

Shen Lian smiled faintly, “I would like to how would you not release me.”

Despite his effort to vex the black-robed monk with his words, smiling even, his original heart was unmoved.

After passing the test of rage in his heart, Shen Lian’s soul experienced a strange indescribable change. As he reflected on the Mastery of Senses, the Primordial Spirit transformed into a surging river, coming from his flesh, carrying the river out, silent and never changing.

The power surged and filled his soul, but will never leave the silent core.

The black-robed monk responded coldly, “You could not possibly stay within unmoved forever, even if you do, I will not let you go.”

The temples disappeared before a surging body of black water came gushing, wiping everything off.

The black waves roared like a demon as it came crashing down, and on top came twenty-four demons, as large as the sky itself, dwarfing Shen Lian’s into nothingness.

The demons seem to be holding heavy beads. One by one they threw the beads in Shen Lian’s direction, in an effort to crush him into oblivion.

A person from the mountain came flying, surprising the people who were losing their hope with countless lives despaired in the face of hopelessness.

Face with such a terrible attack, it was difficult to not be swayed by the fear.

Shen Lian softly uttered, “Sword.”

This sword was not the Five Elements Magical Sword, but it was a sword of the Milky Way. It came from Shen Lian’s spirit, the conjuration of his soul.

A bright white flash appeared just like the heavenly dragon and in a short time, pierced through the heavy beads thrown his way, letting out an immense light and enveloping the black-robed monk.

The beam of the sword, like a dragon’s tail, rushed in to slay the black-robed monk, and rushed towards the sky, breaking through and creating a void of turbulence.