Chapter 315: Gods and Buddhas

No matter which big shot, they all trap people—Bai Lang is no exception now. He just twisted around to carefully admire the tattoo on his own body, feeling he had become a real man—don't think that only criminals get tattoos nowadays; before long someone will tattoo poems onto themselves, for example, later a fellow will tattoo Bai Letian's poems onto his skin, becoming a living book.

But tattoos only really boomed three to four hundred years later; even now they don't draw scorn, yet he's still considered special. Bai Lang's taste is just that: the Western White Tiger Seven Constellations tattoo looks gorgeous on him. After admiring himself for a while, he suddenly whoops, "Damn, the National Treasure Imperial Seal is missing! And I'm still in the bronze hall! Damn, does that make me a thief! And it's hard to say this thing has already become a tattoo! We must leave quickly!"

Bai Lang straightened his clothes and was about to leave; when he reached the doorway he sighed, "Too late!" In front of him the Four Great Holy Monks stood in a line, and Leikong held a bronze bell, leading rapidly gathering monk soldiers as a vanguard. Bai Lang thought it was useless but still needed to discern the situation, otherwise he'd feel truly wronged. "I only…" he began, three words, but then realized that this thing had already become the tattoo on his back, so he couldn't continue, only sighing and preparing to fight.

At that moment, Bai Lang and his cheap master overlapped in a certain sense…

Back then, the first time that baboon entered the palace to endure the bitter kiln was much the same.

"Amitabha, why must the devotee be like this! If you hand over the He Shi Bi… that's all, monks do not speak falsehoods; even if you hand it over today you still cannot leave." The Four Great Holy Monks said apologetically, and Bai Lang smiled, "Since you took the benefit, you must bear the consequences." He thought it through and launched the attack.

Bai Lang intends to escape; by doing so he avoids the situation. After he runs, the monks cannot publicly claim that Bai Lang stole the National Treasure Imperial Seal—otherwise they couldn't explain themselves, and they aren't afraid of covertly pursuing him. It's even possible that later the monks could forge a National Treasure Imperial Seal; after all, the item only has political significance, few have seen it, everyone says the original is real, so a fake could also be considered real.

"In the end, what these bald thieves need is only the political meaning represented by the National Treasure Imperial Seal." Bai Lang knew this and understood that if he could cut his way out he'd be fine. Yet now both the Four Great Holy Monks and Leikong would surely exert all their martial skill to keep him. Bai Lang acted decisively, tearing off his upper garments in three swift moves, leaving only a calf‑skin loincloth and a pair of boots, exposing the brocade‑like Western White Tiger Seven Constellations on his body, his aura soaring.

This shows he indeed never hid the seal on his body, and when Bai Lang lunged forward, his fierce momentum was threefold stronger than before. He took the initiative, a fist booming toward the monk before him—no matter who. Tonight would surely be a vicious clash; under the firelight, the tattoo on Bai Lang seemed alive, faintly echoing bird calls and beast roars. As he moved, several fierce beasts and birds seemed to strike outward.

The Four Great Holy Monks now fought as one, blocking Bai Lang's counterattack. Using the fierce, powerful Southern Dipper White Tiger Fist, even tearing the ground's blue stone slabs into shards that emitted a sharp roaring sound, the four monks still caught them steadily. Yet they began to retreat, because Bai Lang's strikes were too ferocious; if the monks didn't step back, they wouldn't have the time to fully block.

If it were a Daoist of the "Supreme Goodness Like Water" school, perhaps the alternating yin and yang could block it?

Bai Lang attacked fiercely; his primordial true Qi circulated endlessly, especially since his path was the outer‑door divine skill, the true Qi feeding back into his flesh, turning the soreness of his body into strength, making his power continuous. Thus he engaged the four old monks in close‑quarters combat—Bai Lang's martial art is a risky close‑range short‑strike style, trading injury for injury, injury for death. He originally trained in this blunt technique of absorbing blows and reverberating them.

Bai Lang activated his divine skill; the White Tiger Seven Constellations on his body became vivid, and as true Qi flowed through each acupoint, the bird‑beast tattooed there moved. That movement concealed a spirit mechanism and gave the circulating true Qi special force and attributes—like fire, like thorns, like ice, like water, and like the brilliant sun and the cool full moon. The seven fierce birds and beasts seemed to burst from Bai Lang's body, each delivering various reverberating forces.

The Four Great Holy Monks' Buddhist Sect divine skill also firmly blocked Bai Lang; at this moment Leikong joined in, striking the bronze bell he held, the sound waves turning into vibrating air currents, aiming to trigger Bai Lang's true Qi waves and kill by resonance. Moreover, while the sound wave was still propagating, Leikong already lifted the bronze bell and slammed it forward. Bai Lang let out a roar and struck with both palms.

The same tiger roar and bell tone erupted from Bai Lang's body; the White Tiger Seven Constellations vanished, and Bai Lang sensed a second transformation arriving. The Great Ascetic Master truly was formidable; the tattoo he gave Bai Lang was a magical divine art, though Bai Lang didn't know what this divine art was. It simply began to change now—though not in the way Bai Lang expected, the seven constellations did not merge into a single White Tiger tattoo.

It was a mandala altar city blooming on his flesh after the colored tattoo vanished, but there was not a single bodhisattva or Buddha—only fierce kings and ghosts. These fierce kings, clad in human skin and wearing skull ornaments, writhed on Bai Lang as if alive, extending continuously until they covered his back, chest, and both upper arms. A sudden great force erupted from the realm of ignorance, piercing straight into Bai Lang's body.

Bai Lang's Southern Dipper White Tiger Fist transformed again; myriad exquisite techniques flashed in his mind like a lantern show, yet before he could think, his body autonomously began to perform. The battle of five master‑level monks naturally triggered his response; Bai Lang's moves were like Arhat Guardians, the Vajra force erupting and shattering all Buddhist arts. The higher the monks' Buddhist Sect martial skill, the stronger Bai Lang's counterattack.

Even with the Four Great Holy Monks united, their Internal Force channels communicating heaven and earth's primordial Qi, forming a Buddha‑realm in their palms, Bai Lang still ignited the fire of ignorance, stepping through boundless evil water up and down, tearing that Buddha‑realm apart; endless asura demons and rakshasas burst forth, engulfing the entire realm. This was a resonance of Qi, and Bai Lang merely unleashed an inexhaustible force, shattering the combined internal‑force true Qi of the five monks.