Ewu

Ewu had lain in ambush beside Jindou Island for several years, yet he had never seen his Eldest Senior Brother, Moutuo, leave the island. He and Moutuo had originally both been Masters of Qinling Temple in Youxiang Commandery. After the Maha perished and Qinling Temple collapsed, Moutuo and he had fled the State of Zhao one after the other, each heading in a different direction. Qinling Temple's branch had already been in decline, without even a single Lianmin to its name. After the Wrathful Mahasattva fell, their lineage had diminished considerably compared to ordinary times; many of their arts for divination and slaying foes failed completely, forcing them into hiding and scurrying about on the outside. Though Moutuo was not skilled in magical combat, the temple's orthodox lineage resided within him, allowing him to divine the movements of others and live in relative comfort. Ewu was stronger in battle, but his powers of calculation and deduction were vastly inferior, leaving him in a rather wretched state over the years. Fleeing from the State of Zhao to the Eastern Sea, he had sensed that something was amiss while passing through the Zhulu Sea. Erecting an elevated altar to divine the signs, he discovered that his Eldest Senior Brother had not only had his dharma body shattered, but did not even dare reincarnate back in Zhao. His heart leaped at once: "In ordinary times, you could conceal your aura, hold the inheritance, and divine my tracks, making it impossible for me to catch you no matter what. But now you are severely drained of vitality—this old monk's chance has finally come!" Having had several fortunate encounters over the years, Ewu set up an elevated altar, combined the Daoist techniques he had acquired, and coughed up three liters of blood before finally pinpointing the location. After tending to his wounds nearby, he concealed himself in ambush. The inheritances of Shakya cultivators were tied to destiny. Qinling Temple's orthodox lineage resided within Moutuo, inextricably bound to his fate. As a fellow disciple of Qinling Temple, so long as Ewu could kill Moutuo and deliver him into his temple of the five viscera, the inheritance would naturally fall into his hands. He had never imagined that after waiting in ambush for years, before Moutuo emerged, he would sense a precious artifact instead. Whatever else might be said of Zhao's Shakya cultivators, their life-preserving methods were second to none; thus, Zhao Shakya had always been bold. Casting caution to the winds, Ewu thought only of taking a look first and hurried off on the wind to search for it. Meanwhile, Li Xuanfeng had paused his cultivation over the sea. Before any word arrived from Jindou Island to the south, a beam of golden light came flying from the north, touching down in a hurry and circling the area. Circulating his ocular technique, he took a closer look. Sure enough, it was a hefty monk: long-faced with deep-set eyes, wielding short staves in both hands, his whole body flushed crimson and his eyes glaring with fury—evidently of the Wrathful lineage. The man exuded an imposing aura, golden flames billowing from his body. Li Xuanfeng shot him a glance, took down the Jin Geng longbow from his back, and silently observed. 'Is this Moutuo?' Coldly observing, Li Xuanfeng sensed something was off. According to the Ning family's intelligence, Moutuo had yet to recover from his heavy wounds, not to mention that he was never reported to wield twin staves... 'Looks like an accomplice of Moutuo... both lackeys of the Wrathful...' He hadn't reeled in Moutuo, but had instead baited a Wrathful Master. Li Xuanfeng watched him intently without rushing to strike, cradling his bow as he observed. The hefty monk wore half a robe draped over him and carried two long staves on his back, resembling a martial monk. He halted to look around, circling once over the stretch of sea where the precious artifact's aura had briefly appeared. Far off and relying solely on his ocular technique to observe from afar, Li Xuanfeng remained undetected. Li Xuanfeng's dark-gold spirit armor was at the Foundation Establishment level, known as "Black-Eyed Tiger," and inherently possessed the ability to conceal his aura. Even if he drew close, the monk might not notice anything. Still, Shakya cultivators were bizarre, and there was no telling what detection methods he might possess, so Li Xuanfeng continued to watch from a distance. Ewu furrowed his brows and observed for a time. Suddenly, his ears pricked up, and his deep-set eyes gazed into the distance. A figure flew furtively from the south, likewise lingering in the vicinity, possessing only late-stage Qi Refinement cultivation. How could Ewu let him go? Drawing upon the wind, he flew over, barking: "Who goes there!" The Jindou Island cultivator was startled. Glancing at him, he saw it was indeed a Shakya cultivator, and thought to himself: *The Shakya precious artifact mentioned by My Lord must be on him! I should speak with him carefully and leave it to My Lord to handle.* Stepping back, he intended to brush the monk off and return to the island. Relying on his backing, he replied in a hushed tone: "Greetings, Senior. I am from Jindou Island..." Before he could finish stating his name, a cruel smile had already spread across Ewu's face. Extending a hand in a beckoning motion, a powerful force swept over the cultivator, leaving him flushed, sweating profusely, and hurriedly reaching into his sleeve for talismans. Ewu's combat prowess was formidable even among Masters, not to mention that Masters were inherently slightly stronger than Foundation Establishment cultivators. Even with their lineage currently in decline, how could a mere Qi Refinement disciple withstand him? The cultivator felt all the blood rush to his head, and in an instant the monk was right in front of him, grabbing him by the collar. The cultivator opened his mouth to plead, only to cough up a mouthful of blood. A light barrier flared around him, but it was merely a shield of peak Qi Refinement grade; struck by a single palm from the Master, it vanished in a flash. "My Lord! My Lord..." Ignoring his shrieks of agony, Ewu tore off his limbs, pulled out the pale bones, and slammed a palm onto his skull. Though Ewu was not proficient in soul-searching arts, he had picked up a technique or two. After browsing the memories of the past three days, he laughed boisterously: "Situ Mo is truly a gutless coward! Had it not been for that, Eldest Senior Brother would have fallen into my hands long ago." Not only did he spare the man's life, he used magical power to sustain his life force. Circling the islet, he found a banyan tree, affixed the cultivator's severed head to it, and kept him barely clinging to life. Meanwhile, he scooped up a handful of blood from the remains on the ground and splashed it liberally over his face. With a gentle wipe and a burst of crackling pops, his features shifted until he took on the cultivator's likeness. "Heh heh." Chortling twice, he rose upon the wind and flew leisurely toward the south. Only after more than ten breaths had passed did Li Xuanfeng descend at the edge of the islet. Striding inside, he walked forward at a measured pace and raised his gaze toward the great banyan tree. The head perched upon it wore a half-smile, its expression utterly bizarre—a mix of rage and excitement. He was not yet dead, evidently lost in some pleasant dream of escaping and turning the tables. Li Xuanfeng stared in silent contemplation for a moment, the gravel beneath his feet beginning to rattle and jump with harsh, grinding sounds. His gaze grew increasingly ferocious, as though ready to tear someone apart and devour them at any second. This person's Qi Refinement cultivation reminded him of his younger brother, Li Xuanling, who had been shattered and consumed at Zhenhui Daoist Temple. Back then, only Li Tongya had brought back the remains—likewise nothing more than a severed head. Li Xuanfeng had been in Nanjiang at the time and never saw it. Seeing this head now, blood boiled in his veins, his eyes nearly splitting with fury. Unlike Li Xuanxuan, who wept bitterly, turned his hatred inward, and let inner demons take root, the deeper Li Xuanfeng's hatred ran, the colder his countenance became. In his mind, he repeatedly deduced the unfolding situation. The bowstring twitched faintly, letting out shrill cry after shrill cry into the air, like the screech of an eagle. Li Xuanfeng turned, walked step by step along the shoreline to the water's edge, took to the wind, and flew toward Jindou Island. ... Disguised as the cultivator named Situ Er, Ewu rode the wind and ran into someone halfway—a man clad in golden robes with Foundation Establishment cultivation, a guest elder of Jindou Island. Although Ewu had combined specialized spells with blood qi to create a near-flawless disguise, flaws remained when facing a Foundation Establishment cultivator, and he had no way of knowing whether the other man's immortal foundation specialized in detection. Drawing upon the forms of address from the man's memories of the past three days, he hurriedly said to his face: "Guest Elder Zong, do not delay! Hurry back and report!" "Out at sea ahead, a monk and a cultivator are fighting fiercely, battling over a gleaming golden object! It has reached a life-or-death struggle, and they've fought all the way down into the seabed! Please, Guest Elder, make haste to fetch My Lord!" Guest Elder Zong had sent out five or six scouts, and the man Ewu impersonated was the first to return. Hearing this, he dared not dally and said: "Very well. Point me in the direction. I will go ahead and keep watch while you continue back to the island to report!" Ewu had prepared contingency after contingency, ready for whatever response came. He casually pointed out a direction and sent him off, while he himself continued flying toward the island. Coming to a halt at the edge of Jindou Island, he saw an ugly monk fly up to meet him. "Eldest Senior Brother!" Ewu was startled. His disguise was hard-pressed to fool a Foundation Establishment cultivator, let alone a fellow Master like Moutuo. Yet Moutuo merely glanced at him and snapped impatiently: "What happened?!" Only then did Ewu remember that Moutuo's dharma body was completely shattered and he could no longer see through him. Delighted in secret, he delivered the news concisely. Moutuo grew intensely agitated and swooped down to find Situ Mo. Not daring to step into the formation, Ewu waited outside. Inside the hall, Moutuo was sweating buckets, filled with resentment and alarm as he yelled straight away: "Situ, you brat, fetch me three or four guest elders at once!" Situ Mo, having overheard their exchange outside, merely frowned in skepticism: "Is it true or false? How could there be such good fortune? I say we send someone to scout first..." "No!" Looking as if he had just had a narrow escape, Moutuo sighed: "Good thing you're sharp, brat—that person just now wasn't Situ Er anymore! It's clearly my junior brother! He assumes that because my dharma body was severely damaged, I can no longer see through him clearly. Little does he know that Master personally passed the secret method of Blood Absorption Face Shifting down to me... When I looked closely just now, I recognized him immediately!" "Your junior brother?" Situ Mo was quick-witted and quickly grasped the situation. He asked in a low voice: "What do you intend to do?" "Stop squawking! If we drag this out, the bastard is bound to grow suspicious. Just assign a few guest elders to me, and I'll lure him into the formation—" "Bullshit!" Situ Mo cut him off, saying coldly: "Would he ever step into the formation without suspicion? You'd be far better off taking several guest elders and feigning to follow him out, then encircling and killing him!" Moutuo paused slightly and felt that this made great sense. If he had truly fallen for the ruse, he would certainly be rushing out right now rather than needlessly calling the person inside the formation, which would only make Ewu suspicious and prompt him to flee. With no time to praise him, Moutuo hurriedly gathered four guest elders and rode the wind out with them. Watching the group depart, Situ Mo felt a sudden realization and thought to himself: *So it was an ambush laid by the Wrathful lineage. I knew there couldn't be such a windfall...* Taking two steps forward to the edge of the formation, he calculated: *With Moutuo and four guest elders... this Ewu or whatever will have no way out. Still, caution comes first; I must not leave the formation recklessly...* Situ Mo stepped back, standing within the gleaming golden grand formation, silently gazing outside. Moutuo flew out of the grand formation, flanked closely and securely by the four guest elders. Situ Er—disguised by Ewu—grinned broadly, saying eagerly: "My Lord, please follow me!" Moutuo nodded and rode the wind forward, heading north together, preparing to strike. The four companions beside him drifted casually closer to Ewu. The four guest elders were all cultivators who had climbed their way to Foundation Establishment. Their expressions revealed nothing out of the ordinary, yet actions could not lie. They had flown barely ten li when Ewu sensed something and was struck with alarm. Having watched him closely all along, Moutuo roared: "Strike!" The four guest elders stepped forward in unison, shimmering golden magical artifacts flying from their hands, crisscrossing with brilliant light across the sky as they struck toward Ewu together. These magical artifacts were all from Tangjin Sect, but their accompanying spells were a jumbled hodgepodge. Clearly, these guest elders were originally rogue cultivators of the Eastern Sea who had later sought refuge on Jindou Island, and their strength was rather mediocre. "You treacherous curs!" Ewu's reaction was equally swift. Forming incantation gestures in his hands, golden light flared, and golden flames ignited around his limbs. Behind him, a figure with three heads and six arms slowly manifested, each hand holding short staves and small axes. But Moutuo laughed wildly: "With your Senior Brother here, what escape arts could you possibly use? You certainly spared no expense, trying to entrap me with some precious artifact, but now you lose both your treasure and your life!" Though his aura was feeble, he formed a succinct hand seal and flicked out a beam of streaming light. With hardly any motion, he caused the phantom behind Ewu to waver and blur. Moutuo sneered: "I am the Abbot of Qinling Temple!" With the inheritance on his side, Moutuo dispersed Ewu's spell with barely any effort. He shouted for the four Jindou Island guest elders to swarm forward while keeping his own distance from the five of them, interfering with Ewu's arts only from afar. "...When Senior Brother imparted the dharma, he truly held something back!" Though surrounded, Ewu did not panic. He spat a venomous curse, answering coldly: "Don't look down on me, Senior Brother!" With that, golden light flowed through his hands. Ewu drew out two long staves covered in intricate golden patterns. Crossing the staves overhead, a resounding clang rang out as he parried the four men's magical artifacts. Forcing them back in one motion, he adopted a ruthless stance, raining staff strike after staff strike upon them, allowing their artifacts to pierce into his flesh while golden light blazed in his eyes, distorting the air in waves of heat. The bodies of Shakya cultivators were like white flour; when the artifacts pierced through, no blood flowed, and once they withdrew, the wounds closed up stickily. Compounded by Ewu's ferocious onslaught, none of the four wished to suffer injuries that might hinder their cultivation. Constrained by self-preservation, their movements appeared clumsy and hesitant. Still, none of them had expected to take down this monk right from the start; without even revealing their immortal foundations, they merely tested the waters with one another. Dharmic radiance clashed incessantly, unleashing deafening rumbles in the air. Moutuo looked at his junior brother Ewu with eyes full of greed, muttering in a low voice: "Once I devour this body of yours, I can shave decades off my healing!" Ewu sneered, gauging the situation from side to side. He had numerous contingencies, making the odds of perishing here exceedingly low; at worst, he would merely have to forfeit this Master's body to Moutuo. For now, he thought only of breaking away with minimal loss. *You might run, but can that precious artifact on you run away?* Seeing through his intentions, Moutuo felt a secret surge of smugness. He coughed, spat out a mouthful of blood, and wiped his mouth. Staring at the dark crimson blood on his palm, he suddenly froze. "What is this?" A sudden chill gripped Moutuo's cheek as blood dripped down drop by drop. Turning his head, he felt as though his left eye were about to burst, his remaining field of vision flooded with vast, sweeping golden light. The golden light drew near from afar, piercing across the sky like an ethereal beam that seemed to exist yet vanish the instant he looked away. Feeling a sharp pain across his face, Moutuo was struck with horror. "The mongrel has reinforcements!"