Chapter 178: A Matter of Life and Death

When those words were spoken, every Western Sect disciple blushed to the point of red faces and ears.

A few disciples who had previously suffered losses following the Golden Cicada clenched their prayer beads so hard that their veins bulged and the beads clicked.

Dizang's gaze darkened slightly as he silently gauged the opponent's intent; this brute seemed outspoken, yet every sentence concealed hidden meaning.

Dizang thought clearly: the other side first labeled them as "trespassing the forbidden realm," cloaking the Wu Clan in a righteous mantle of protecting the Reincarnation.

Then he provoked them with coarse words, clearly trying to lure his own side into taking the first violent action.

If they truly strike, win or lose, the Western Sect will be branded as being in the wrong.

"Hah! How dare you, shameless barbarians, insult our sect!" a young disciple finally could not contain his anger; Buddha light surged around him, and a phantom of a Dharma form flickered behind his back.

The other practitioners also hastily formed seals, and a chaotic battle seemed about to erupt.

Just as Dizang was about to speak to suppress them, the Ox‑Head Demon Officer suddenly grinned, sweeping his steel fork and stirring gusts of cold wind: "Right on time, grandpa was worried today's performance wasn't enough."

A few Ma‑Head Demon Officers behind him dispersed in unspoken coordination, forming a battle formation before the Reincarnation Bridge.

"Defame our Wu Clan by using underhanded tricks? If this spreads, it'll make Mount Buzhou collapse from laughter!" the ox‑head, human‑bodied Wu soldier roared upward, his bronze ox horns flashing coldly in the Netherworld fire.

The Western Sect members stared at each other, even the hand gestures ready for sealing froze mid‑air.

All three realms know the Wu Clan always acts straightforwardly; to suggest they master convoluted scheming would even make the Underworld's listening beasts laugh their teeth off.

These muscular, sinewy warriors have always worshipped the fist's edge as truth, and when trouble arises they never hesitate to smash half a mountain peak.

"You've gone too far!" the front‑line Arhat's robe fluttered without wind, a vein bulged on his forehead. Eighteen prayer beads snapped in unison, and Buddha light, wrapped in Vajra fury, surged straight at the Wu soldier's face.

When the crystal Buddha light struck the ox‑horned Wu soldier, a bizarre scene unfolded: his two‑meter‑tall robust body floated like a paper kite, tracing an exaggerated arc in the air, and upon landing, his foot cracked the blue stones by the Forgetful River into a spider‑web fissure.

"Ahem, you dare to draw weapons before the Hall of Reincarnation," the Wu soldier's mouth dripped eerie blue soul‑blood, his voice booming like a great bell that shook the red‑spotted lilies beside the Yellow Springs road, "Report quickly to Lord Yan, the Western Sect intends to destroy the foundation of the Six Realms!"

The Arhat who had struck stared at his own palm, still scorching, bewildered; the demon‑subduing seal he just cast had clearly used only thirty percent of his strength.

The rest of the sect members fell like drifting clouds; the Wu Clan's fierce general, who moments ago radiated arrogant aura, couldn't even muster the most basic protective spirit energy.

Dizang's fingers beneath his robe suddenly clenched, and the wick in the crystal lamp burst forth dazzling sparks.

When he caught sight of the under‑ground passage talisman the Wu soldier had secretly crushed upon falling, the nine‑ring tin staff was already too late to stop the scattered messenger ghost‑flames.

Deep within the Netherworld's underworld, the Ox‑Head Wu Clan staggered to the ground, dark red blood staining his mouth and trailing down.

He shakily raised his hand and pointed straight at Dizang, the muffled thunder rolling in his throat making the Western Sect members' hearts pound.

Dizang's robe fluttered without wind, and the Buddha beads in his palm suddenly snapped apart, each sandalwood bead striking the ground with a clear, audible bounce.

The heavens darkened abruptly by three degrees, and war drums thundered from the eighteenth layer of Hell. Countless mysterious iron chains fell from the void, their clanking reverberating so fiercely that the Yellow River of the afterlife surged backward.

Behind the Shadow Mountain, a black, oppressive army formation emerged; Yu Qiang's battle flags fluttered fiercely, each banner entwined with visibly ominous aura.

When the first twelve coiling dragon flags unfurled in the wind, ten Hall Yan Lords stood proudly beneath them, their judge's pens still holding wet ink of life and death.

"Venerable Dizang, what grandeur!" King Yan of Hell's dark‑colored crown tassels jingled, his tiger‑head cleaver blade flashing coldly, "You bring three thousand bhikkhus to trespass the Reincarnation Office, injuring my underworld envoys—are you trying to emulate the ancient Jieyin Zhunti's strong ferrying of mortal travelers?"

Before the words finished, the ten Hall Yan Lords stepped forward half a step together, and three thousand Wu guards behind them shouted in unison, their roar shattering the mirror of the Nefarious Mirror Platform with countless cracks.

The Western Sect bhikkhus stared at each other, their prayer beads leaking deep red blood beads—clearly the Wu Clan's Twelve Capital Celestial Demon formation had already been activated.

Dizang glanced at the dark red blood beneath the Ox‑Head Wu soldier, which had solidified into a Six Realms of Reincarnation totem, his pupils snapping shut. This was no accidental clash; it was a meticulously arranged heart‑targeting scheme.

"What a cycle of cause and effect!" Dizang suddenly laughed aloud, the golden lotus phantom beneath his feet disintegrating inch by inch, "Now that you're in the jar, please carve a path out. I'm merely curious—when the Hou Tu goddess transforms the Reincarnation, how could the good seed she sowed yield such bitter fruit?"

As he spoke, Buddha light around him receded like a tide, and the ornate jeweled patterns on his robe seeped out thin strands of black vapor.

The Wheel‑Turning King sneered, flicked his sleeve, and the Nefarious Mirror Platform roared as it turned, reflecting a vivid scene of Western Sect disciples swinging staffs to strike the Ox‑Head envoys.

Even stranger, the image in the mirror swirled with the golden aura unique to the Heavenly Dao's law, unmistakably ironclad proof witnessed by the Heavenly Dao.

The ritual implements in the bhikkhus' hands suddenly grew scorching hot like branding irons, and many shallow‑cultivation disciples shrieked as they released their grip.

"Venerable, do you know what it means to spin a cocoon and bind oneself?" Qin Guang Wang lifted his hand and lightly tapped the Book of Life and Death; the pages turned with a sound like ten thousand ghosts wailing, "When you covertly ferry eight million souls, have you ever considered that the ten halls of the Underworld still remain?"

When those words were spoken, the eighteenth layer of Hell simultaneously rang with the sound of chains dragging the ground, and countless souls forcibly converted by the Western Sect manifested as phantom shadows within a sea of knives and oil.

Dizang's form wavered slightly, the merit golden wheel behind his head flickering on and off. At that moment he finally realized that since the wandering spirit that lingered by the Bridge of Helplessness half a year ago, every step had tread upon the calamities meticulously laid by the Wu Clan.

Looking up, faint Six Realms of Reincarnation disc phantoms shimmered behind the ten Hall Yan Lords, the Heavenly Dao's law circulating endlessly within them; this was no ordinary contest, but a karmic reckoning that threatened the very course of heaven and earth.

Both victory and defeat lead into a trap. The Western Sect's forceful breach of the Reincarnation forbidden ground and injury to the underworld troops is ironclad evidence; should they truly win, they would instead invite the ancestral Wu to indict them with the weight of heaven and earth.

When that time comes, even if Jieyin Zhunti and the two Saints argue repeatedly, they could not overturn Yin and Yang. One must know that the desire for control over the Six Realms is not limited to the Western Sect; the hidden great powers of the heavens will surely seize the chance to cause trouble.

If they unfortunately lose, the consequences are unimaginable; the Western Sect would become a laughingstock of Honghuang. Regardless of the outcome, this has become a hot‑potato.

If mishandled, it could spawn calamities of epic scale; then Dizang, as the decision‑maker, would be the first to bear the blow, not only being spurned by the Saints but also forever losing the chance to verify the Dao, which for a Netherworld Bodhisattva whose aspirations reach the heavens is truly a matter of life and death.

"You trespassed the Reincarnation forbidden ground and harmed my underworld troops; can this be settled amicably?" King Yan's golden crown tassels trembled, the authority of the Netherworld turning into a nine‑abyss gale that howled through the hall.

"How does the underworld wish to resolve this?" Dizang lightly touched a prayer bead with his fingertip, exhaling a soft sigh. If negotiation is desired, there is room to turn the situation.

"Since it is the Saints' Dao lineage…" King Yan's dark robe swirled like ink, "then let the twelve Preheavenly Spiritual Treasures atone for the crime."

Dizang's pupils suddenly contracted.

Since the first calamity of the Dragon‑Han era, the Western Sect's spiritual veins have been exhausted; back then, the Saints' eastward journey to spread compassion was still mocked by the Three Pure Ones, and the sect's disciples lived in extreme hardship.