Chapter 942: Fist! Intention!

What kind of blessing? Find out after you've been punched!

Find out after you've been punched again!

Enough chatter! I'll ask you once: do you want it or not?

What kind of blessing!

Do you want it or not!

His voice rang like a great bell or temple gong.

The Dragon-Elephant Martial Saint, mighty and glorious.

Liang Qu's eyes flickered; he clenched his teeth.

"Yes!"

"Good!"

Gale winds surged; his breath formed a sword.

Zhang Zhang Longxiang's gaze sank like the deep sea, lightning coiled around his fist, seizing the entire universe, twisting his body, and thrusting forward!

Long hair whipped wildly, golden eyes blazing.

His heart pounded wildly in his chest; the fist-shadow grew from small to vast.

Liang Qu's thoughts were chaotic—he had no idea what was happening—but from this fist of Zhang Longxiang, he felt an unprecedented, mortal threat!

He instinctively tried to dodge, but there was no escape—the entire space was sealed; the fist-bone loomed like a mountain. From the moment it appeared, this punch was already fate's destined blow!

Whoosh!

His pupils shrank to pinpricks; his body trembled violently.

The entire scene shifted abruptly, like overexposed orange-red, reeking of blood!

No longer the floating temple, the sacred Buddhist land; no longer the late spring drizzle, the emerald green mountains—but a battlefield,

a black earth battlefield drenched in human blood, above it a blazing sun that scorched skin and flesh down to the organs, finally spewing a wisp of charred black smoke from his throat.

The River of Blood?

Liang Qu tilted his head, squinting.

Men blackened, clad in tattered armor, gripping half a broken blade, thick sweat sliding from their brows, stinging their eyes.

A revolving lantern?

Or one he'd never experienced before?

What kind of blessing is this!?

What kind of blessing is deadly!?

He wants to kill me?

Whoosh!

All scenes returned.

In his vision, the fist remained—amid a thunderous, world-shaking explosion, a rolling fist-print erupted with a CRASH!

Thunder burst from the mountain; heaven tilted, earth collapsed.

A mountain came toppling down from the horizon!

He was about to receive this punch.

Suddenly.

In his peripheral vision, the old monk's expression changed drastically!

Liang Qu's fear surged; every hair stood on end.

No, no, not right!

Beyond the fist-print, Zhang Zhang Longxiang's eyes blazed with murderous intent—cold, utterly cold!

Of course.

He wants to kill me!!!

CRASH!

The Golden Buddha descended; the old monk's Golden Body roared in fury, leaping to intercept—but it was already too late!

!

The Dragon-Tiger Golden Body cracked apart.

Golden cracks bloomed across Liang Qu's face.

In a flash, faces of the court, Zhang Longxiang, his master, the old monk flashed through his mind—all thought obliterated!

From the xiphoid process upward, flesh scattered like wind-blown dust, revealing stark ribs, exposing the heart beneath, pounding violently—everyone could hear its terrifying beat, like a drum!

CRACK!

The shockwave spread from flesh to bone; every rib shattered into fragments, shooting outward, slicing past his eye sockets.

The King of Xu Yue, the old monk...

He'd used so many masks, karmic cycles finally brought him to experience the true might of a Martial Saint!

Impossible to stop!

Unmatched!

His toes left the ground; blood spurted from every part of his body, turning into a mist—he rose from the mist, flesh peeled from bone fragments, Liang Qu was torn apart by a single punch into three layers: blood, bone, flesh!

Around his ears, only chilling wails.

Every organ, every scrap of flesh screamed under unbearable strain.

Great terror!

Unprecedented, great terror!

Survive!

Survive!

Survive!

Every cell struggled in agony.

Yet the camel is crushed by the final straw—the mental exhaustion of ten years of battling floods, like a dream; the physical exhaustion of being beaten into pulp by the monkey.

After today, having endured trials, he should have absorbed it fully, elevating his spirit and will.

But precisely now, at this very moment!

The valley had not yet risen; fatigue had not yet faded.

Demons have five harms.

Stealing life, creating obstacles, causing agitation, destroying good roots, imposing delays.

All weariness, laziness, sluggishness erupted under the terror of this punch, converging into one.

CRASH!

The airwave exploded.

Everything happened in an instant; thousands of believers saw only a parasol-shaped airwave burst from the Buddha's hand,

then a figure flew out, crashing into the Floating Dragon Temple's Woxianghu, the shockwave and towering water spray exploding together.

Everyone was stunned.

Splash!

Rain fell from a clear sky.

Like a meteor striking from heaven, all water in the center of Woxianghu was flung outward, as if squeezing water from a sponge, surging in all directions.

The little elephant flapped its ears, panicked, scrambling out of the lake, huddling beneath its father's six-tusked white elephant.

Whoosh.

The water expelled from the lake swirled around the elephant's legs, then rolled back—on the surface, a wisp of blood smoke rose.

The Elephant King:

. 」....

Light and shadow shifted; algae drifted.

Liang Qu's vision darkened further; his broken, unrecognizable form sank into mud, falling into endless darkness.

The Martial Saint's will kept eroding him; blue light flickered in the sea of qi, restoring strength—but useless. He barely felt pain anymore, only one sensation.

Tired.

So tired.

Ten years of carving mountains and digging rivers never felt this exhausting.

The faint joy of overcoming the Six Demons was utterly crushed; even the strength to think was gone—like a vast ocean, utterly calm, not a ripple, only profound black.

Yet,

The boundless sea lay still, not a ripple—only one condition remained.

Air pressure plummeted.

A storm was coming.

Suddenly,

The wind rose; ripples spread across the sea—not from pain, not from suffering, but from a thread of sorrow.

One wants to test me, another wants to kill me.

Annoying!

Annoying! Annoying! Annoying!

Sorrow turned to irritation, irritation to rage, rage to fire!

Snap!

Spirit within.

It sounded as if something had snapped, or as if something had shattered.

The vast dantian churned with terrifying waves; beneath the Dragon Court Immortal Isle, specks of sparks scattered, these orange-red sparks gathering more and more until reaching a critical threshold.

Give!

A slender golden flame rose slowly.

At the bottom of the black lake, waterweeds swayed; a pair of golden eyes snapped open!

Birds in the sky, startled by the qi waves, lingered long without landing.

Non-abiding Nirvana, upon the Buddha's hand.

Long Long Eying and Long Long Binglin both showed concern in their eyes.

Zhang Zhang Longxiang and the old monk stood shoulder to shoulder, silently watching, utterly free of the earlier tension.

Glub glub.

Wo Xiang Lake erupted with endless bubbles; dead fish floated belly-up, steaming out a foul stench.

The water boiled!

"Amitabha."

Monks bowed in reverence, heads lowered in silent mourning.

They did not know what had just happened, but as long as the abbots and elders inside the temple remained silent and gave no orders, no matter how great the commotion, it was nothing.

Poor, innocent fish in the lake.

Prayer beads spun, wooden fish tapped continuously.

Rolling steam surged into the sky.

Heat waves churned.

The young novice raised his hand to wipe sweat, but in the next instant, his hand froze, his legs trembling.

Wo Xiang Lake churned into a massive vortex.

A tattered mass of flesh emerged from the lake's center; it bore no resemblance to a human form—merely flesh wrapped around misaligned broken bones, two legs of rotting skin and exposed bone alternating as they stepped through the water, slowly rising, save for those two eyes, blazing like flint sparks!

"Success."

Zhang Zhang Longxiang leapt down from the Buddha's hand.

At this moment, some still did not understand, still confused; Huai Kong glanced around, lowered his head, murmured a Buddha's name—until Di Xian called out to him.

"Huai Kong, go quickly!"

"Yes!"

Within Fu Long Temple.

The chanting of Buddha's name was noisy and chaotic.

Buzzing like swarming flies, the golden flame within the dantian suddenly rose a third higher; the golden eyes swept the surroundings, then lifted to gaze at the palm of the Golden Buddha, gaining a glimmer of understanding—yet forcibly suppressing the inner fire.

"Master Liang, do not move."

Leaping down from above, Huai Kong warned softly, extending a finger; a blue light spread from his fingertip.

The blurred, mottled flesh, like a sprout nourished by spring rain, gradually grew and healed.

Liang Qu said nothing.

A long pause.

He turned his head.

Zhang Zhang Longxiang stood beside him.

"What was that technique called?"

"Fist!"

"What fist?"

"Just 'Fist.'"

"What is the fire?"

"Intent!"