Had those many agonizing days and nights that had just passed simply not existed? Or had they actually happened, only for him to awaken on the exact same afternoon?
Prince Chu gazed out the window. The same sunlight, the same silk ribbon stirred by the breeze, suspended before it could even drift back to its original position—in an instant, he understood that this was still that very same day.
The days and nights he had just endured were like the dream of the golden millet. Yet upon waking, not only did his body remain in the original world, but even time itself had not moved an inch.
Prince Chu possessed innate wisdom and grasped at once that this had to be the little monk's divine ability. For such a power to drag someone into a dream unnoticed, subjecting them to the cycle of life and death within the dream without letting outer time advance by a hair, was truly terrifying.
A profound dread suddenly welled up within him. If he fell into the little monk's hands, he would likely possess not the slightest ability to resist. Moreover, this little monk had never promised that what he said was necessarily the truth.
Yet it was already too late. Prince Chu had given his word, just as he had outside the palace walls that day.
An enigmatic smile suddenly graced the little monk's face. "It seems this humble monk still enjoys a bit of luck. Please come with me, Benefactor."
The scenery before Prince Chu shifted. In an instant, he appeared in an unfamiliar realm. This realm ought to have welled with spiritual springs, echoed with the Buddhist chants carried by the wind, and bloomed everywhere with lapis lazuli flower trees. Yet now, several bottomless chasms scarred the earth. Firelight flickered deep within their depths, and never-ending wails of anguish echoed upon the wind.
Ahead stood a colossal mountain dominating his entire field of view. It had to be a million zhang tall; heaven and earth seemed unable to contain it. The vast majority of the mountain was shrouded in dark azure clouds and mist, obscuring its true form.
At the foot of the mountain, the mist parted slightly in one spot, revealing a stream meandering down from the heights. Yet the water ran a thick, greasy yellow, and within it floated a pale, ghastly object that looked like a human bone.
Prince Chu was jolted with horror. When he tried to look closer, the clouds and mist had already closed, veiling the mountain's features once more.
"Is that... Spirit Mountain?"
The little monk smiled and said slowly, "Senior Brother Guangzhi, after so many reincarnations, how is it that you no longer even recognize Spirit Mountain? Today, Senior Brother's golden dharma idol returns to its rightful place. When I attain my karmic attainment in the days to come, at least half the credit will belong to you. The hour grows late. Now that we have arrived at Spirit Mountain, please take your place, Senior Brother!"
The clouds in the sky suddenly parted, unveiling a vast expanse of radiant, magnificent golden light like a boundless ocean, stretching hundreds of thousands of li across—so sublime as to induce despair.
From the center of the golden ocean shot a slender wisp of Buddhist radiance, falling upon Prince Chu. In a flash, it dissolved his flesh and soul together. At the same moment, across various different realms, several figures vanished simultaneously.
When the Buddhist radiance dissipated, all that remained where Prince Chu had stood was a crystal the size of a soybean, radiating seven-colored immortal light.
Upon glimpsing the seven colors, delight rose on the little monk's face, but as soon as he saw the grain's minute size, his expression turned utterly grim. For the first time, he lost his calm composure, squeezing out words between his teeth: "A little-finger relic!"
He had plotted meticulously and waited patiently until today. Taking advantage of the scrambled celestial design, he had seized this once-in-a-ten-thousand-years opportunity, using his status as a Buddha Child to bring the Arhat's reincarnation back to the Pure Land. He had thought great success was within his grasp, never expecting to bring back nothing more than a little-finger relic.
Just then, the relic's halo shifted. Wei Yuan's figure abruptly materialized in midair, looking down at the little monk with eyes void of sorrow or joy. With a single glance, Wei Yuan's silhouette slowly faded away.
Only after Wei Yuan's figure disappeared did the little monk recover his wits, a faint glimmer of fury flaring in his eyes. Regaining his composure, he bent down, picked up the Arhat relic, and tucked it into his robes. Even if it was only a single relic, it was still his greatest harvest in hundreds of years; he had to take it.
The little monk began walking toward Spirit Mountain, then suddenly stopped and looked back below. Reflected within his pupils was Consort Yuan's figure, looking as though she were sound asleep!
His expression shifted drastically. He took an instinctive step forward, but Consort Yuan's figure vanished into thin air.
***
High above Qingming, Wei Yuan pointed a single finger at Xu Shuhe. Boundless radiance battered the elder's protective immortal light, leaving it on the verge of collapse.
In merely a few breaths, Xu Shuhe had already begun burning his third grotto-heaven.
At first, the gathered immortals had remained composed, even relaxed. Even when Xu Shuhe summoned his grotto-heavens, they had not considered Wei Yuan particularly formidable, thinking only that Xu Shuhe was too weak. How strong could an old man be if a youth who had just stepped into Scenery Command could force him to burn his grotto-heavens?
Yet Xu Shuhe's grotto-heavens could not even hold out for three breaths each. Only then did the immortals start to realize with a shock the terrifying might of Wei Yuan's strike. Many immortals reflected that even if they unleashed their full strength, they would scarcely surpass this blow.
Wei Yuan remained completely composed. Countless motes of radiance rose from Qingming, converging around him before transforming into a vast river that surged toward Xu Shuhe. For a time, all the immortals shared the illusion that this radiance was inexhaustible.
Several immortals well-versed in mortal karmic luck were the first to blanch. They had already discovered that the proportion of mortals within Qingming capable of contributing karmic luck and aspiration was dozens, even hundreds of times higher than in the various nations of the outside world!
Wei Yuan's strike was already equivalent to wielding the full might of one of the Nine Nations. How could an ordinary immortal withstand it?
Xu Shuhe had naturally noticed this as well. Veins bulged on his forehead as he held on with all his might. If he could not drag Wei Yuan down with him, his death would be utterly worthless, and there was no telling how many years the Northern Qi Xu family would have to lie low.
Xu Shuhe did not stop at burning his grotto-heavens; he began activating immortal treasures as well.
Nearly every mortal in Qingming capable of stepping forward had already done so. As a veteran immortal, how could he fail to outlast Wei Yuan? So long as he endured the scouring of mortal aspiration radiance, Wei Yuan would soon be unable to keep it up. At worst, Xu Shuhe could flee back to the ancestral grounds to drag out an ignoble existence. A living immortal was always a clan's greatest safeguard.
At this moment, the radiance around Wei Yuan was indeed diminishing sharply, showing that this wave of attack was nearing its end. Just as the expressions of several immortals relaxed and Xu Shuhe breathed a sigh of relief, Wei Yuan suddenly raised his head and looked toward the heavens.
Though many immortals were present, none knew where Wei Yuan was looking. They only sensed a subtle shift in him—he had become profound, ethereal, and terrifyingly tranquil.
Wei Yuan turned back and looked toward Xu Shuhe.
Xu Shuhe's vision blurred. Before Wei Yuan, he seemed to see a blue lamp, beside which sat a desiccated skeleton. The flame was small as a bean, radiating an eerie blue light that cast a tint of azure into Wei Yuan's pupils.
Among the radiance Wei Yuan swept forth, several motes were suddenly dyed azure. They slipped straight through Xu Shuhe's immortal-power barrier and adhered to his body.
The immortal-power barrier Xu Shuhe had forged by burning grotto-heavens, immortal treasures, and even his own sea of consciousness somehow failed completely to impede these few specks of blue luster—as if they did not exist at all.
Yet the moment the blue luster touched his body, Xu Shuhe was gripped by extreme terror and cried out in horror!
His hair and beard turned stark white and fell out in clumps. The sheen drained from his skin, his eyes turned cloudy and dim, two trails of clear fluid dripped from his nostrils, and foul, rotting grease oozed from the skin of his neck.
The surrounding immortals looked on in shock. Xu Shuhe's longevity had run out!
Each of those specks of blue luster aged Xu Shuhe by several years. When several landed, they brought his life span to an absolute end on the spot.
This was not the power of heavenly treasures; it was Wei Yuan's own divine ability. These specks of blue luster carried a trace of the power of time. They had passed through several breaths earlier, before the immortal-power barrier had even deployed, and thus encountered no obstruction.
Xu Shuhe had never heard of Wei Yuan possessing time-related divine abilities. Even among immortals, such arts were exceedingly rare. Caught entirely off guard, he took the strike head-on, his life span exhausted, and died.
Xu Shuhe's aged, decaying, foul-smelling corpse swayed, then slowly tumbled toward the earth of Qingming. The expressions of the immortals shifted once more. No matter how decrepit this vessel was, it was still the body of an immortal; falling into their hands, it could substantially bolster an ancestral ground's foundation.
Even more valuable was his true spirit, which had not yet dispersed. That sliver of true spirit bore the authority of the Great Dao. The original agreement had stipulated that should Xu Shuhe fall, his true spirit would be returned to the Xu family, and his immortal body would be returned to the Xu family's ancestral grounds to bless their descendants.
Yet now Xu Shuhe had been slain by Wei Yuan—and after Wei Yuan had already slain Lu Changhe and exhausted his hidden cards. Naturally, what was previously agreed no longer applied. Xu Shuhe's immortal body and true spirit belonged to whoever proved worthy to claim them.
Yet before the immortals could make a move, a hollow sensation struck their hearts, as though they had missed something, though none could say what.
When they recovered their senses, they discovered that Xu Shuhe's true spirit was gone as well!
It was one thing for Lu Changhe's true spirit to vanish the first time, but this time, right before the gathered immortals, Xu Shuhe's true spirit had disappeared as well. It was virtually certain that Wei Yuan was behind it, yet none could tell how he had done it.
There was an unwritten rule in the immortal realm: when faced with an unrecognizable anomaly, one should steer clear whenever possible.
Yet though these were all seasoned immortals, before them lay two immortal corpses, two true spirits, a visibly spent Wei Yuan, and a Qingming rich enough to rival nations. A single strike might suffice to claim all of this. Faced with such a foundation for ten thousand generations, who could readily let it go?
By now, the stakes on the table were high enough, and the existing players were utterly depleted, stripped of all means. Thus, the various factions no longer bothered to disguise themselves, stepping onto the stage one after another.
True Monarch Yanshi raised a hand and pointed, sending two streaks of sword light shooting toward two immortals. Master Gu swept his sleeves, deflecting the sword light aimed at himself, while tossing out a stone inkstone to block the other streak on behalf of Old Monk Bujue.
Old Monk Bujue seized the opening to shed his outer monk's robe, leaving only a moon-white undergarment, and vanished. The discarded kasaya was instantly shredded to bits by an unseen force.
The old monk grunted, yet managed to escape into the distance.
Just then, a sword flew from beyond the heavens, hurtling straight toward Qingming. Old Monk Bujue reappeared abruptly, pressing a hand down on the immortal sword.
Feng Hanzhou's figure surfaced upon the immortal sword, fuming, "Old donkey Bujue, you dare block me?"
Unmoved, the old monk pressed his palms together. "Until this old monk reincarnates, this sword of yours, Benefactor, goes nowhere."
Feng Hanzhou sneered. "You might block me, but can you block Palace Master Bai as well?"
The old monk remained composed. "Benefactor Bai shares an affinity with our Buddha."
Feng Hanzhou's expression shifted repeatedly. "You lot are truly that treacherous?!"
The old monk said slowly, "This piece was placed six hundred years ago and only put into play today. Back then, Palace Master Feng had only recently ascended to immortality; it is only natural you failed to see it, so there is no need for vexation."
Feng Hanzhou spoke no more, focusing entirely on clashing with the old monk. Bizarre and kaleidoscopic illusions erupted continuously around them as their struggle grew increasingly perilous.
Above Qingming, the gathered immortals hesitated no longer, each unleashing their respective arts.
Chapter 1138