Chapter 208

Bang!

The fat monk, holding his staff, gave a heavy stomp.

The ground instantly cracked, spreading outward in all directions from the monk as the center.

At the same time, the arhats behind him sprang into action, six arms raised high, then fiercely shot the Buddhist implements in their hands at Chen Shicheng.

Careful.

Whale Fall, some distance from the battlefield, turned pale with shock, wanting to step in to help block, but the flying swords he had just shot out sensed the terrifying pressure; he incredulously lifted his head, seeing the Buddhist implements falling like from the heavens, turning into golden streams of light.

The power increased! Whale Fall worried in his heart, quickly added force; the six flying swords immediately aimed at the six Buddhist implements descending from the heavens, wrapping all of his True Essence.

But it was all in vain; before the flying swords could even reach the Buddhist implements, they were utterly shattered by the aftershock, the linked flying swords destroyed, Whale Fall's face instantly turned pale, he spat a mouthful of blood, and his body swayed on the verge of collapse.

Are you alright?

Turgenev and the other players hurried to support Whale Fall.

"Don't mind me, help the Rat Boss!" Whale Fall shoved everyone aside and shouted anxiously.

Turgenev then reacted, hurriedly preparing his strongest skill, looking toward the battlefield, but as soon as he lifted his head, his expression went blank: "The Rat Boss has made a move!"

What?

This is.

My heavens!

The other players also whipped their heads around, stunned for a moment—some pupils constricted, some hearts pounded, some scalps went numb—all were frozen in place.

Just as Turgenev said, Chen Shicheng indeed made a move—though saying he 'acted' might not be accurate; it was more like he 'acted with his eyes'.

Unlike before, when he had no power to resist, Chen Shicheng this time merely lifted his head slightly, his gaze locking onto the six attacks flying toward him; then six white strands of Slaying Immortal Sword Intent appeared in the air to meet them.

It was sword intent, not sword qi! Holy, armor‑piercing, lethal, sharp—countless concepts condensed upon it, mysterious and transcendent, yet possessing an undeniable might.

And the effect of the attack was unexpected: although the six Buddhist implements were formed from condensed True Essence and would explode on contact, under the slash of the Slaying Immortal Sword Intent they were cut down to their very source like real objects, splitting in two and dissipating into nothingness in the air.

The fat monk's pupils contracted, his scalp went numb, and his body began to tremble uncontrollably: "This is impossible—how could a fully formed skill be..."

He tremblingly touched the back of his neck; just a glance made him feel his very soul quivering, as if a Slaying Immortal executioner's blade hung over his head, ready to fall at any moment.

"No, impossible, just a mere Golden Core."

The fat monk went completely mad, slamming his hands hard against his own acupoints.

Pfft!

With a spurt of golden blood, the monk's aura surged, the arhats behind him rose higher, his might grew stronger and spread outward in all directions; the distant players, under the violent pressure of his aura, could barely stand upright.

Yet the one who felt it most deeply was Chen Shicheng facing the fat monk head‑on; the one‑time Slaying Immortal Grand Formation granted him unparalleled attack power, but he himself gained no realm advancement.

Even with a 40% attribute boost from his own formation skill, he was still merely in the Golden Core Stage, and compared to the Dharma‑Aspect Realm it was heaven and earth apart.

Moreover, the fat monk opposite him wasn't boosting his power solely through a self‑damaging skill; the arhats behind him had originally been bathed in Buddha's light, righteous and awe‑inspiring, but after seeing his glance annihilate the attack, the edges of that Buddha's light tinged with black.

A strange aura rose silently; Chen Shicheng needed only a glance, and a frenzied thought of slaughtering everything welled up in his heart.

Is this qi deviation?

Buddhist disciples are most prone to demonic corruption! Turn black and your power multiplies tenfold, but trying to purify yourself ruins your life! Thinking of this, Chen Shicheng's heart jolted; he no longer delayed, and his mind stirred at once.

The white hair‑light above his head, which had shown no reaction until now, stirred; the brows and eyes at its tip opened, and in the next second it appeared above the fat monk, a hazy white beam shooting toward his mud‑palace.

In an instant, the fat monk's face twisted as he was about to succumb to demonic corruption, and he froze in place—his arhats, demonic qi, and True Essence all severed from him.

Just like the attack formed from gathered True Essence, everything belonging to him was severed at the root, leaving him with no connection whatsoever.

But the problem is, this is only the beginning; the Slaying Immortal Flying Blade that forged its fearsome reputation in ancient times above his head continues to unleash destructive power, expanding as if without end, all for a phrase never heard in countless years.

"Impossible, this is impossible—my cultivation, my True Essence, move! Come on, move!"

The fat monk glanced back at the arhats fading into illusion, trembling as he raised both hands, feeling over his body as if this could find the power that no longer answered him.

Suddenly, he halted, a flicker of memory flashing through his mind.

That was when he was young, his master telling him an ancient secret: a deity had taken part in the war between immortals and gods, appearing only a few times, yet each time an ancient great god fell at his hand.

Whether it was the deathless heavenly immortals who shared the sky's lifespan, or a single indestructible spark of light, the Great Luo that unites myriad worlds—all met the fate of scattered soul and spirit in his grasp.

"It is the inheritance of Lu Ya Tianzun—this is impossible, impossible. Apart from the famous heavenly gods listed on the Investiture of the Gods, the rest of the ancient immortals and gods have had their dao fruits shattered and souls annihilated; there could be no inheritance. Indeed, you Returnees are the heavenly demons from beyond the demon realm."

"Huh? Only those who made the Investiture of the Gods have an inheritance?"

Hearing this, Chen Shicheng's expression froze; he silently noted the fat monk's words: "Whether demon or not no longer matters—what use is it for a dying man to say such things?"

"Dead person?"

The fat monk's eyes widened in shock; though he had been somewhat deranged, he instantly calmed, then turned and stumbled outward from the formation, shouting: "I cannot die—I must spread this news; the inheritance of the god‑position is not limited, sects need not fight over a sole opportunity."

Chen Shicheng blinked; the monk knew quite a lot, and now he spilled another secret of the aborigines.

Based on what he said, it seems we can infer that the sects in the game are all inheritances from the heavenly gods, and there is only one god‑position, requiring everyone in the sect to fight for it—so cutthroat? Then should we just kill this monk to squeeze more secrets from his mouth? (End of chapter)