Of all the orthodoxies under heaven, Li Ximing despised the Northern Shakya the most.
The tragedies that had befallen his ancestors Li Xuanling and Li Tongya had been recounted hundreds of times by his grandfather Li Xuanxuan, leaving a knot of grief that persisted to this day. Li Xuanfeng had perished besieged by Shakya monks, and even Li Xijun had nearly died at their hands...
It had been the same during the struggle between North and South over Chenshui Mausoleum. No sooner had he cultivated for a while than a Shakya cultivator came knocking at their door:
“Back then, you beat my family to the brink of death. What do you want now!”
The way Kongheng was pinned, unable to move beneath the old monk's white radiance, was all too reminiscent of that past day!
“The Wei Li dynasty was the golden age of Mingyang, overthrown by the Northern Shakya barbarians. Involving the Golden Core and the World-Honored One, their karmic mandates became intertwined from then on as a matter of natural order. Wherever Mingyang flourishes, Masters will surely follow...”
Li Ximing naturally knew the underlying reasons behind all of this, yet he still could not stem the fury in his heart. Hearing this monk's aggressive barrage from afar and knowing that Shakya words were often bewitching, he let it go in one ear and out the other. Lifting Huangyuan Pass, he brought it smashing down.
Caught off guard, Fuxia took the full brunt of the brilliant light. His face darkened slightly as he raised one hand, bracing against the imposing bright fortress. The scalding white bricks scorched his bronze hand bright red. Recognizing the art at a single glance, the old monk sneered coldly:
“So it is indeed the Way of Mingyang's hierarchy, decorum, and cardinal order!”
As soon as his voice fell, Kongheng managed to break free. Behind him, the Six-Armed Vajra glared with wrathful eyes as numerous shimmering golden chains lashed toward Fuxia at once. Only at this moment did Kongheng have the breath to recover.
While Kongheng took the chance to regulate his breathing, Li Ximing’s strike landed. It felt as though he had struck a boulder of cold, hard iron. His chest tightened, a wave of nausea washed over him, and he nearly spat blood.
“What a bald ass!”
Fuxia seemed unfazed. His hands had long since braced against it, and a single punch shook the immortal foundation violently. Narrowing his eyes, he studied his opponent for a moment before remarking to himself:
“This is Li Ximing!”
Kongheng finally had the opportunity to speak. Channeling his dharmic power, he recongealed the shattered chains. Having taken a harsh battering from the white light just moments before, his voice was somewhat hoarse, yet he maintained his calm bearing as he said softly:
“Senior! You claim suffering leads to becoming a World-Honored One. Do the temple tenants who toil year in and year out truly become World-Honored Ones? And just which World-Honored One do they become? Possessing neither cultivation karmic ties nor innate past-life wisdom, relying solely on enduring hardship and chanting names to achieve the Dao, tens of thousands starve and drop dead... Yet I have never seen the scriptures speak of any Lianmin born of hardship, nor any Maha born of chanting names!
“Is this worldly Shakya Pure Land across the lands of Yan and Zhao nothing more than a monstrous lie!”
Though spoken softly, his words carried the deafening weight of dharmic power. An expression of sheer disbelief surfaced on Fuxia’s face, and he froze on the spot, completely stunned by this single remark.
Seeing his chance, celestial light welled in Li Ximing’s eyes. The bright fortress stood built of white bricks with exquisite battlements; all seventy-two ridges along its corner towers shone like heavenly gates, and luminous patterns adorned the white portal's base with dazzling brilliance.
Fuxia had grown conceited, supporting Huangyuan Pass with only a single hand. Yet this bright fortress had always been renowned for grinding and suppression. Li Ximing's cultivation art was profound to begin with, and he had even practiced two secret techniques. Now unleashing his strength to the absolute limit, it was as if a sun had risen over Lake Wangyue.
*Rumble!*
Amidst the resounding roar, Fuxia shoved upward with both hands, bracing against the fortress as he was submerged in the torrential celestial light. The reflected brilliance radiating from his body pierced into the lake, boiling the water into plumes of rising white steam.
*Clang! Clang...*
The golden chains on Kongheng flew forth, coiling tightly around the monk in dense layers. The Six-Armed Vajra behind him yanked the chains taut, causing sparks to burst within the sphere of white light. The cultivators around the lake hastily turned and descended, scattering in search of protective formations to preserve their lives.
The old monk’s voice rolled out from beneath the fortress like rumbling thunder, overflowing with shock and rage, bordering on a roar:
“You... you dare question my orthodox sect's foundational dharma! You dare question my orthodox sect's foundational dharma!”
Beneath the fortress, the monk had transformed into a gleaming golden idol. His eyes were abnormally large—the whites resembled jade and his pupils shone like bronze, striking terror into the hearts of any onlooker. His stature swelled steadily as he gritted his teeth, pouring strength into his arms.
*Rumble!*
Li Ximing felt his dharmic power draining away at a terrifying pace, and Huangyuan Pass began to wobble. In all his years of cultivation and several battles, he had rarely needed to worry about dharmic power, for his reserves usually replenished faster than he consumed them. Steeling himself, he swallowed two medicinal pills and muttered:
“Come on, then!”
Though Kongheng debated scripture with his mouth, his arts showed no mercy. Taking advantage of Fuxia being pinned beneath the fortress, overlapping golden chains wrapped around him, while even more golden bonds formed out of thin air to tether his body.
Yet Fuxia paid them no heed. Staring blankly at Kongheng, he ground his teeth and said:
“How did your master teach you?! Those people cannot cultivate; spending their lives enduring hardship in practice, they naturally go to the Shakya Pure Land upon the Maha's body... where they need only enjoy ultimate bliss!”
A deeply conflicted look crossed Kongheng’s face, leaving him momentarily unable to reply. Watching this, Li Ximing felt deeply exasperated and cursed:
“If this ultimate bliss is so wonderful, why aren’t you there enjoying it! Why remain in this mortal realm! If being a temple tenant is so great, why did you take up cultivation?”
Fuxia sneered. The radiant light was so blinding that his features could no longer be seen, but his voice boomed:
“How do you know I wasn’t a temple tenant in my youth?! My ancestors were temple tenants for generations and entered the Shakya Pure Land long ago. Back before the Wrathful Eyes Four Demons Emperor Kshetra fell... I even went to see my ancestors! Now they have all been killed by you demons!
“As for why I do not go to ultimate bliss... How could heretics and demons understand our ambitions? If one of us practitioners is found to possess a root of wisdom, it is a mandate conferred by the World-Honored One. We cannot proceed to the Shakya Pure Land to enjoy bliss like mortals; we must cultivate and remain to suffer in this mortal realm, all to prevent demons and heretics like you from encroaching upon the Shakya Pure Land!”
Li Ximing froze, unable to tell whether the monk spoke out of genuine conviction or deceit. Turning to look at Kongheng, he found the monk's eyes shut tight, lips buzzing as he focused entirely on reciting sutras and casting arts, no longer replying at all!
*This... A prestigious orthodox lineage of ancient Shakya cultivation, and he can't even outargue him! Kongheng always measures others' hearts by his own; he's simply too honest...*
Little did Li Ximing know that while Kongheng appeared unresponsive on the surface, his heart was in turmoil. Had he not been in the middle of a battle, he would have broken into a cold sweat.
Kongheng hailed from no ordinary lineage. Though Liao River Temple of the Northern World-Honored One's Path was impoverished, it was a place where the World-Honored One had once cultivated, and its standing in the great desert was by no means low. When his master was still alive, let alone Lianmins... they had even interacted with Mahas.
Kongheng had entered the Pure Land himself. Inside, jeweled pools glistened, steps were carved of lapis lazuli, lotus canopies unfurled, birds and beasts numbered in the thousands, and millions of mortals took delight in their ease, able to wander outside whenever summoned... Being young back then, the sight had shaken him to his core, leading him to harbor secret doubts about his own sect's teachings.
*Since childhood, I possessed Telepathic Knowledge, able to perceive the emotions of others. Every single one of those people was filled with joy... and Fuxia is wholly devout as well... How can this be...*
After Liao River Temple fell, Kongheng traveled south and witnessed hundreds of harrowing miseries across Yan and Zhao. Only then had he come to understand his master's Shakya dharma. Yet Fuxia’s words dredged up his inner turmoil once more, leaving a knot in his chest too suffocating to describe.
*They are simply too extreme, too overbearing in their methods... If only the arts of the Seven Paths were all governed by constraints like those of the Damu Dharma Realm or the Precepts Path...*
The Damu Dharma Realm and the Precepts Path did not cultivate ultimate bliss inside their bellies. Instead, they employed rays of dharmic light to ferry souls, chanting sutras and preaching scripture, only taking people in one by one after the commoners had accumulated full merit and harbored a genuine yearning. Hence, they were regarded as orthodox paths.
It was only the other five paths that often swept everyone into their bellies without asking, appearing utterly cruel. That was the sole reason Kongheng harbored doubts; had it not been for that, his convictions would have wavered long ago...
“Kongheng!”
Li Ximing barked, abruptly snapping the narrow-eyed monk back to reality. The golden chains in his grasp had long since stretched taut, and Huangyuan Pass was teetering precariously.
Kongheng was dispirited, while Li Ximing's thoughts raced.
Li Ximing understood his current strength very well. A direct melee might be debatable, but the grinding suppression of this bright fortress was no laughing matter; if he exerted his full might in such a suppression, even the core scions of the Three Sects would find it hard to endure.
Even if Li Qinghong were to fight him, her best approach would be to stay clear of the fortress's underside—to say nothing of having Kongheng at his side, whose Shakya dharma was by no means simple!
*With the two of us joining hands, pinning him squarely beneath the pass and binding him in countless golden Shakya chains, which Foundation Establishment cultivator could bear it?*
He had pushed the fortress in his hands to its limit, yet this old bald ass refused to budge. Though scorched red-hot by the bright light, he braced against the pass and endured the burning as if practicing ascetic cultivation through hardship.
Dharmic power surging, Li Ximing sent his voice into Kongheng’s ears:
“Master... this bald ass is terrifyingly tough... Can you make out anything about him!”
Kongheng muttered, replying via secret voice transmission:
“He was likely a former Lianmin. Now that the Wrathful Maha has fallen, this creature has lost all divine abilities he could borrow, leaving behind only this Lianmin Dharma Body...”
“A Lianmin Dharma Body!”
Li Ximing had considered the possibility, but hearing it confirmed still filled him with dread.
No matter what, a Lianmin Dharma Body was not something of the Foundation Establishment level. Even stripped of all divine abilities, how could ordinary methods suppress it? Most likely, this monk was still bent on his own ascetic cultivation; otherwise, he would have overturned the bright pass and charged over with his staff long ago!
Just as the two paused, Fuxia exhaled, releasing a torrent of golden light. His voice rang low and deep:
“Kongheng! Wake up! Your root of wisdom is second to none, so why lead yourself astray? The reason I endured your suppression without retaliating was to say a few more words to persuade you!”
Golden light surged from him, piercing the sky. Though the golden chains had wound him into a solid golden ball, the old monk showed no fear. Pinching his fingers into a lotus seal, he spat out a plume of pink mist and shouted:
“Go!”
The dark yellow kasaya upon him suddenly came alive, whirling twice like rice paper caught in a gale. In an instant, the monk vanished from beneath the pass, and an eruption of golden light blinded both Li Ximing and Kongheng.
“Not good!”
Since Kongheng practiced Shakya dharma as well, countering this art was far easier for him. His vision cleared in a flash, and the Six-Armed Vajra behind him surged forward, parrying the long staff sweeping through midair. The clash produced an explosion of brilliant light, forcing him to cough up a trace of blood.
Looking across, Kongheng saw a tiger with dark stripes pinned beneath the brightly patterned gate.
The tiger possessed a vigorous build, with deep yellow fur marked by jet-black stripes and pale white brows. Its pupils, like Fuxia’s, were bronze. A short black horn grew from the center of its brow, pulsing with wave after wave of dark light.
“A Horned Tiger...”
Kongheng turned pale, his voice laced with helplessness and bitterness as he spoke quietly:
“Senior, you are at least a Dharma Protector in the Northern Demon-Subduing Temple... Now that your orthodoxy hangs by a thread, you should guard your mountain gate and enlighten the people. Why travel ten thousand li here? If something happens to you, what will Abbot Fuyan do!”
Having temporarily lost their sight and spiritual sense, the two had been exposed. Fuxia’s staff had already reached midair; a single strike would have killed or maimed, yet Kongheng’s words stayed his hand. He said in a deep voice:
“You truly have deep ties with my Northern Demon-Subduing Temple...”
By the time Li Ximing’s vision recovered, Fuxia was standing to the side, his upper torso bare. Though the tiger beneath the bright pass was not struggling, the dark light from its horn made Li Ximing's mouth taste of bitterness.
*Damn it...*
Fuxia alone had been difficult enough to handle. Now that he had slipped free and stood nearby with staff in hand, watching like a hawk, how could Li Ximing and Kongheng continue pinning this beast? With a flash of brilliance, the bright pass took flight and returned to his hand.
The moment the pass lifted, the Horned Tiger leaped up, coming to rest beneath Fuxia. Straddling the tiger, coated in golden lacquer and his eyes bronze, the old monk held his staff quietly, his gaze fixed on Kongheng.
The entire lake fell into silence, a clash brewing on a hair-trigger. Li Ximing squinted at Fuxia, a strange sensation stirring in his chest.
Kongheng was an honest monk, young and bound by too many precepts, rarely thinking in terms of conspiracies. But Li Ximing had seen plenty of intrigues, and his childhood upbringing had been thorough; suspicion already took root.
*He is taking advantage of Kongheng's honesty, constantly trying to sway him with words... He must have an ulterior motive.*
*According to Kongheng, the orthodoxy of the Northern Demon-Subduing Temple is in grave peril. Why travel all this way? I refuse to believe he has the leisure to wander around after his Maha died... There must be a reason for him coming to my family.*
The young man glared warily at Fuxia. The old monk kept his eyes solely on Kongheng, his tone even:
“Kongheng, since you know the abbot of my temple and understand that our orthodoxy is righteous, this old monk does not wish to break the precept against killing, which is why I allowed you to act.”
Kongheng finally opened his eyes and whispered:
“I am aware of Senior’s cultivation...”
Fuxia nodded, seated atop the tiger, and said placidly:
“Leave this place, join my sect's orthodoxy, and follow me back to the temple.”
*So that’s what this is about?*
Li Ximing lowered his gaze to watch him, studying his expression intently. Recalling the events from start to finish, he sensed that something was amiss. Seeing Kongheng wavering, Li Ximing transmitted his voice via dharmic power:
“Kongheng, this bald ass is talking too much. I suspect the old thing has an agenda.”
Kongheng, however, did not find it unusual. While pondering in silence how to appease the monk, he transmitted back:
“He seeks to convert me to his orthodoxy, so it is only natural he would try to persuade me with many words... If I do not agree, I fear innocent lives will be lost...”
*No, that's not right... The Wrathful Path is currently despised like rats crossing the street... How could he be arrogant to this degree? His actions throughout this encounter are deeply suspicious. Did he endure all our arts just to practice ascetic suffering?*
Li Ximing felt that Fuxia was exceedingly suspicious, yet the truth remained hazy and out of reach. He cursed inwardly:
*If only Xijun were here! How could this old thing pull tricks in front of him? He would have seen right through him with a single glance!*
Li Xijun was dead; Li Ximing had no way out. The young man stared coldly at the monk, channeling his dharmic power to transmit his voice through a secret art:
“Since this bald ass framed it this way, he is ostensibly here for you and will certainly not harm you. We have only exchanged two moves with him; how can we surrender without a fight? It is not too late for us to test him once more!”
***
Waves churned across the Reef Sea as a massive vessel sailed through the sky. A black-robed youth stood at the prow, his hands tucked inside his sleeves.
In the center stood an old man with grizzled hair, his raised brows lending him a fierce demeanor. Draped in gold and adorned with jade from head to toe, glowing with flowing dharmic radiance, he was clearly a direct scion of the Chi family.
The guest elders flanking both sides...
Chapter 673