Chapter 180: Echoing Across Distance

Even though they are accustomed to the barren hardships of the western Niu He continent, such a scene of collective humiliation still churns bitterness in everyone's hearts.

These years of quiet cultivation at the foot of Ling Mountain, though often subtly mocked as shabby by Eastern cultivators, have they ever had their life‑bound treasure seized?

Some even recall the previous calamity, when the Wu Clan's strong men even refused to spare their shoes, a humiliating state that made their ears burn with shameful anger.

From the direction of the Reincarnation Platform came the shouts of Wu Clan warriors, startling everyone into stepping back three paces together.

The humiliation of just now being searched with a black‑iron staff pressed to the throat is still vivid; now, despite a tide of hatred, his legs feel as if filled with lead, unable to move an inch.

It is unclear who turned first, but hundreds of gazes gradually converged on the Venerable Ksitigarbha seated on the azure lotus throne.

This Buddha, long famed for his wit and strategy, now has his ten fingers pressed deep into his palm.

As the overseer of today's preaching on the Reincarnation Platform, he knows better than anyone the consequences of returning empty‑handed.

Let alone the thunderous wrath of the saints Jieyin and Zhunti, even the fellow disciples on Mount Sumeru waiting to mock them would be enough to nail them to a pillar of disgrace for eternity.

"Venerable, do you truly intend to give up here?" a disciple asked hoarsely. Ksitigarbha lifted his eyes toward the surging golden merit light deep within the Reincarnation Platform, a bitter taste rising in his throat.

He has never been unaware that retreat now would mean the collapse of his Dao heart, yet those Wu Clan judges clutching the Book of Life and Death have clearly sealed the entire Reincarnation jurisdiction as tightly as an iron barrel.

Suddenly, thunderous war drums sounded from the direction of the Reincarnation Platform, startling everyone so that the illusion of their robes rippled.

Ksitigarbha sprang to his feet, his kasaya moving without wind; he saw the signs of the Twelve Dao Ancestral Witches materializing in the clouds, and also the golden Buddha flame suddenly igniting in his eyes.

Ksitigarbha stared at the lingering shadows of the Six Realms of Reincarnation, suddenly feeling a chill at the back of his neck. Memory fragments surged like dark currents of the Netherworld river, the episode of Jin Chanzi being besieged by the Wu Clan becoming crystal clear—a meticulously set beast trap, with the bait being the entire Western Sect.

"No wonder the altar of the Twelve Ancestral Witches collapsed unexpectedly…" he traced his fingertips over the cracks along the edge of the Reincarnation Disk, each pattern narrating a malicious whim of some entity.

Past anomalies, like intersecting star trails, pieced together in the Sea of Knowledge a chilling truth: the moment they stepped into the underworld, they became living pieces on someone else's board.

The instant cold sweat soaked his kasaya, Ksitigarbha suddenly heard his own rapid breathing.

The one long famed for wit, he was oblivious within a millennial scheme. This suffocating sensation of being observed by a higher dimension is even more intense than when he faced the Asuras of the Sea of Blood.

"Senior brother!" the cry of a young novice monk pierced the silence. Ksitigarbha looked up, seeing thirty‑seven earnest gazes scorching his collar, even the usually arrogant Jin Chanzi clenched his empty cosmic bag tightly.

Ksitigarbha brushed the otherworldly flower pollen from his cuff, his voice carrying the unique chill of the Yellow Springs: "Have any of you ever seen a spider weave a web?"

He flicked his finger, spiritual energy weaving a flickering light net in the air, "We inadvertently entered a great being's karmic spider nest, but the silk ultimately…"

Before the words finished, Jin Chanzi suddenly snapped the Bodhi bead on his wrist: "Never mind the spider web, my seven‑treasure kasaya is still in Hou Tu's hand." The scattered beads bounced on the ground, reddening everyone's eyes; those stolen treasures were, after all, the invisible threads binding them.

"Then let the weaver see." Ksitigarbha suddenly tore off the jeweled necklace from his chest and hurled it to the ground; the sound of shattered jade startled a flock of Netherworld crows, "the ability of ants to gnaw silk."

He turned and walked toward the opposite bank of the River Forgetting, his robe hem swirling like hanging dark clouds, the halo of the Six Realms of Reincarnation behind him warping into a mocking grin.

The disciples exchanged glances for a moment, then suddenly chanted the Rebirth Mantra in unison.

The sutras for liberating departed souls echoed at the Bridge of Helplessness, yet seemed more like a rite to liberate their mocked dignity.

Jin Chanzi lifted his foot, crushing the last Bodhi bead; amid the tearing sound came a cold sneer: "Some people need to understand that even a bald vulture can peck eyes."

In the depths of the Netherworld realm, several Buddha lights quietly slipped into a blood‑colored rock cavern.

The Venerable Ksitigarbha sat cross‑legged atop a fiery red lotus, the Vajra seal between his brows flickering, the illusory shadows of the twelve golden lotuses hovering faintly behind him.

In the water mirror of the ten Yama kings, it was clear that these visitors from Ling Mountain were using formless Zen tones to calculate the cosmic cycle, attempting to reweave the karmic chain.

At this moment, under the dome of the Hall of Reincarnation, Zhou Yi stood with his feet on the Yin‑Yang dual‑array, gazing thoughtfully at the fading Buddha light along the Yellow Springs road.

He deliberately left the fissure leading to the Animal Realm unsealed, allowing a few threads of the Transcendent Buddha's intent to linger, just as a player intentionally leaves a calamity at the endgame, waiting for the opponent to fall into the trap.

"Venerable, do you truly intend to go to the Asura City to preach?" the bronze spear of the ox‑headed dark commander traced sparks on the ground.

Zhou Yi, however, suspended the Book of Life and Death before the Reincarnation Disk; as six hues of light swirled, the illusory shadow of the fiery red lotus cast a reflection onto the Animal Realm.

He had long hidden the formation eyes of the Twelve Celestial Demon Array within the depths of the Asura Realm, awaiting the golden body of the Buddhist sect to reenter the Netherworld.

The Chaotic aura at the core of the Six Realms of Reincarnation surged suddenly, and Zhou Yi's divination staff struck the void at the border between the Hungry Ghost Realm and the Human Realm.

Here each Reincarnation vortex aligns with the celestial star paths, and within the Celestial Deity Realm float fragments of the primordial spirit of the Hou Tu Ancestor Shaman, while the Asura Realm seals the raging hatred of Gong Gong when he struck Mount Buzhou.

He took off the wine gourd at his waist, poured the fine brew of Fengdu onto the rim of the Reincarnation Well, causing the six realms to resonate with a dragon‑like tremor.

The Sanskrit chant from beyond the thirty‑three heavens abruptly ceased, and the prayer beads in Ksitigarbha's hand suddenly snapped three of them.

He realized with shock that the infernal fire of the Asura Realm resonated with the merit pool of Ling Mountain, and the illusory shadows of the twelve golden lotuses began to show cracks under the wash of Reincarnation's power.

Meanwhile, Zhou Yi stepped on the waves of the Yellow Springs toward the Human Realm, where the karmic tree he planted three hundred years ago now bore a strange fruit shaped like the character 'zhe' as a true mantra.

When the nine‑dark winds of the Netherworld lifted Zhou Yi's dark cloak, a sigh of the Hou Tu Ancestor Shaman echoed from the depths of the Six Realms.

The formation diagram of the Twelve Ancestral Witches' essence blood materialized in Zhou Yi's palm, resonating from afar with the Celestial Demon Array in the Asura Realm.

He smiled lightly at the fissure of the Animal Realm about to close: "Let us see whether the Ling Mountain Buddhas can ferry through the three thousand infernal fires of this Wu‑demon Great Calamity."

Staring at the endlessly swirling Reincarnation vortex, Zhou Yi leapt without hesitation into the space between six pillars of light that pierced heaven and earth.

The vast pulling force surged from all directions at once, each pillar of light transforming into a vortex that devoured all, trying to sweep him into divergent temporal currents.

Facing a law‑turbulence capable of tearing a Golden Immortal apart, Zhou Yi's robes fluttered while his steps remained steady, his body surrounded by a faint aura of Chaos, marching straight toward the core of the Six Realms.

Suddenly the entire Netherworld resonated strangely, billions of shafts of rosy light emerging from the void like butterflies breaking out of a cocoon.

Bang! Bang!

A deep, powerful thumping sounded from the far end of the Reincarnation, the sound waves turning into tangible golden ripples that undulated in the void.

Warmth flickered in Zhou Yi's eyes, his fingertip lightly touching the trembling spacetime: "Long time no see."

As if summoned, the mysterious rhythm suddenly quickened like a chorus of war drums, nine‑colored clouds coalescing into a sky‑covering winged form.