Chapter 296 - 295: Sacred Grounds (3)

Lin Yuan walked with the unhurried, measured cadence of a sovereign inspecting his domain, his hand wrapped securely around Bai Qingyue’s waist. Behind them, the majestic Rank 8 Golden Immortal Beast lowered its massive head, folding its wings as it rested at the edge of the primordial violet forest, its Celestial Jade horn pulsing in a slow, rhythmic lullaby that smoothed the residual spatial ripples of their arrival.

As they stepped deeper into the plaza, the localized sparring matches, the deep meditations, and the esoteric displays of Dao law instantly ground to a halt.

Dozens of the Nine Provinces’ most terrifying geniuses—monsters who commanded the absolute apex of the Soul Transformation realm—turned their gazes toward the newcomers. The ambient air grew impossibly thick as dozens of divine senses, each carrying the conceptual weight of a mountain range, swept over Lin Yuan and Bai Qingyue.

The silence lasted for three breaths. Then, the plaza began to hum.

"Look at his foundation," an ascetic swordsman from the Northern Continent whispered, his eyes narrowing as his divine sense violently bounced off Lin Yuan’s flesh. "His aura registers clearly at the Early Stage of the Soul Transformation realm. Yet, my sword intent refuses to lock onto his spatial coordinates. The five elements are cycling so perfectly within his organs that his body is functioning as a closed-loop Origin World. A True Elemental Body... I thought such physiques died in the Great War."

"He is formidable, yes, a dragon hidden in the abyss," a shrouded woman from the Southern Continent murmured back, her eyes drifting away from the crimson-robed Daoist. "But look beside him. Look at his Dao Companion. Am I trapped in a localized illusion?"

"Her cultivation... it is only at the Middle Stage of the Core Formation realm!" a heavily scarred brute gasped, his voice carrying the sheer shock of a man witnessing water flow uphill.

"How is she standing?" another expert demanded, stepping forward, his eyes wide. "The Dao laws of the Sacred Grounds are preserved from the ancient era. The atmospheric pressure here is a literal, conceptual vice! A Core Formation cultivator stepping onto this jade should have her meridians instantly pulverized! Her Golden Core should be crushed into bloody dust the moment she materialized!"

The experts stared intently at Bai Qingyue. The wife of Lin Yuan did not flinch under their heavy gazes. She walked with perfect, serene grace, the sheer silk of her gown untouched by the crushing ancient pressure.

Then, a gray-haired elder from the Eastern Continent gasped, his eyes flaring with blinding white light as he utilized a specialized perception art.

"It is not her Spiritual Qi sustaining her!" the elder exclaimed, his voice trembling with religious awe. "Look closer! Look at the iridescent, crystalline sheen enveloping her skin! That is not a defensive barrier... that is..."

"An enormous amount of Heaven and Earth luck!" a female cultivator beside him finished his words, stepping back as if she had been physically struck. "It is woven directly into her karmic tether! It is so dense, so unbelievably concentrated, that the ancient laws of the Sacred Grounds are literally bending around her to avoid disrupting her destiny!"

"Such luck..." the ascetic swordsman muttered, entirely lowering his guard in the presence of it. "To possess such a staggering volume of fortune at only the Core Formation realm? It is said that when the Heavens truly favor a mortal, the very earth will soften its jagged edges to accommodate their steps."

"Indeed," the scarred brute agreed, wiping a sheen of cold sweat from his brow. "Such fortune... none can subdue Heaven’s fortune! Not even the ancient laws of this sanctuary can crush a woman bathed in the absolute grace of it!"

As the overlapping murmurs of profound curiosity and shock washed over the plaza, the crowd of geniuses instinctively parted. They were parting not out of fear, but out of a deep, ingrained respect for the sheer, impossible experts walking among them.

From the parted sea of cultivators, a solitary figure approached.

He moved with a silent, gliding grace that seemed to detach him entirely from the physical friction of the jade floor. He was draped in simple, unadorned robes of saffron and gold, leaving his right shoulder and arm completely bare.

"Amitabha Buddha," the monk intoned.

His voice was a deep, resonant bell that instantly washed away the chaotic murmuring of the plaza. It carried a serene, absolute peace that smoothed the turbulent spiritual seas of everyone present.

Lin Yuan stopped, his deep purple eyes locking onto the approaching figure.

The monk was physically striking. His exposed skin was not pale jade or tanned bronze; it was a deep, burnished red, glowing with faint Sanskrit runes that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. He possessed a perfectly bald head, marked with six circular incense scars, and his eyes were a warm, luminous gold that reflected an ocean of ancient compassion.

Lin Yuan did not lower his guard. He immediately engaged his cultivation, projecting a faint thread of divine sense to scan the monk’s foundation.

The feedback he received was staggering.

The monk’s foundation was completely devoid of orthodox Qi. Instead, his meridians were rivers of liquid gold, flowing around a soul foundation that resembled a blooming, indestructible lotus.

Immense talent, Lin Yuan’s mind declared, translating the visual data into absolute concepts. This is not a standard physique. This is the Bodhisattva’s Indestructible Karmic Wheel. He is intrinsically linked to the frequency of a Bodhisattva. His flesh is fortified by the vows of salvation, rendering him conceptually immune to malicious intent.

As Lin Yuan stared at the golden-eyed monk, a profound, undeniable sense of familiarity washed over him. The unique, resonant frequency of the monk’s aura—the absolute tranquility masking world-ending martial might—was identical to an aura he had encountered months ago.

The monk in the Mountain and River Painting, Lin Yuan realized, a cold thrill of interconnected destiny sparking in his mind. The energetic signature is a flawless match. Such similarities... all monks of this caliber must be related, tied to the exact same foundational source of the Buddhist Dao!

The red-skinned monk stopped ten paces away. He brought his palms together, bowing his head in a gesture of profound, egalitarian respect.

"This poor monk is Ku Ming," he introduced himself, his golden eyes rising to meet Lin Yuan’s deep purple gaze. "I welcome fellow Daoist and his esteemed Dao Companion to the sanctuary of the ancient era. The winds of the Central Continent have carried the scent of your tribulation even to these isolated grounds."