Chapter 104: The Great Prison of Pingkang Mountain

The believers’ expressions grew even calmer, and their devotion was no pretense.

Amid the uniform, low chanting.

Hong Lei silently scanned them but felt no peace or serenity—only a creeping unease in his chest.

He turned and exited the hall, glancing nervously at Shen Yi: “My lord, what do we do now?”

The location seems to be correct.

But what we’re seeing here isn’t evidence enough.

This matter is no longer a simple personal grudge. Along the way, Hong Lei had heard rumors: Shen Yi had crushed half the young generation of Qingzhou City with overwhelming force at Da Shun Zhai.

He left not the slightest room for compromise!

Right now, countless eyes in the city have temporarily withdrawn their hostility, waiting silently for the outcome.

If you fail to maintain your earlier ruthless momentum and swiftly eliminate the Golden Body Sect,

you’ll show weakness before everyone.

They’ll realize Shen Yi isn’t as powerful or confident as he appears—and the backlash will be endless.

Not to mention other underhanded tactics: at the very least, petitions accusing “Lord Shen” of arbitrary tyranny and corruption will pile up on the Regional Commander’s desk!

Not just outside, but even within the Demon Suppression Bureau.

This group of deputy commanders and captains places such trust in Shen Yi that he’s gained prestige far exceeding that of an ordinary personal aide.

But this newly formed prestige still needs time to solidify—if the first step falters…

“Get up!”

Two inner-camp deputy commanders flipped the young monk over on the ground, coldly asking: “What trick are you playing? Where’s your abbot?”

“The abbot… the abbot isn’t here, my lord. We’re just guiding devotees in gathering qi and meditating. What is this about?”

Before the young monk finished speaking, he saw the young man with yin-yang fish embroidered on his collar walking slowly toward him. He tried to beg for mercy, but the man reached out, lifted his robe, and swiftly pressed his long fingers against skin and bone.

“Just started training?”

Shen Yi withdrew his hand and stood upright again.

“What are you talking about? Training what?” The young monk’s heart lurched; his protest died in his throat as he let out a piercing scream: “Ahh!!”

A clean leather boot casually crushed his arm—the snap was sharp and crisp.

Shen Yi, who had been quietly observing, now slowly stepped forward to the hall’s entrance. His Jade Liquid realm aura surged instantly, scattering all the drifting incense smoke within.

Almost simultaneously, every believer looked up in confusion; the joy in their eyes faded, replaced by a gnawing, agonizing pain.

They clutched their robes, veins bulging on their necks.

Soon, the chanting turned into moans of suffering. They strained their nostrils, but no trace of the earlier bliss remained.

“Master! I’ll write a letter—I’ll write right now! I’ll summon my grandson to meditate with me!”

“Give me just a little more mercy!”

Someone staggered to his feet, as if his spirit had been drained—he looked like a corpse, begging: “Give me paper and ink…”

Hong Lei and the others from the Demon Suppression Bureau froze for a moment, then all furrowed their brows.

Shen Yi pried loose the withered claw gripping his sleeve, and golden light flared again in his eyes!

Within the hazy vision, white mist and golden light still alternated. After what felt like an eternity, a faint crimson thread finally emerged from below.

He dismissed his Qi-Viewing Technique and strode forward, stopping before the Buddha statue.

He clenched his fist and slammed it forward with full force!

As the clay Buddha shattered instantly, dust swirling, a hidden passage lay bare before them.

“You two guard the entrance.”

Shen Yi stepped down into the passage; the two inner-camp deputy commanders bowed and replied, “Yes, my lord.”

Hong Lei exhaled in relief and hurried after him: “They kept so many people here and built a secret tunnel—surely not just to scam a few incense offerings.”

Before he finished speaking, his face changed. He covered his nose and mouth, suppressing nausea, and kept following Shen Yi.

After a long while, the quiet staircase ended. Beneath their feet, the ground was slick and muddy, reeking of a mix of odors—feces, blood, and foul stench.

Before them stood prison cells formed by black iron bars.

Aside from the bars, the cells retained their original cave-like appearance. The only fixtures were stone troughs, where excrement mixed with a paste-like food, and traces of medicinal powder clung to the edges.

Inside the filthy troughs,

bodies lay with their upper torsos submerged, soaking in food and waste, their yellow, emaciated faces smeared with feces, eyes dull, mechanically swallowing the paste like mindless pigs.

After swallowing a few mouthfuls, they collapsed sideways on the trough, licking the medicinal powder with their tongues, then stared wildly with bulging eyes, bodies convulsing violently until exhaustion, their gazes vacant as they crawled sluggishly on the slippery ground.

Some crawled farther, grasping the iron bars, dumbly pressing their heads against them, banging their skulls with dull thuds.

Hong Lei stared at the endless rows of cells on either side—he no longer had the will to count how many bodies there were.

In this age of demons and monsters, he’d seen worse suffering.

But such a revolting environment—he’d never seen anything like it.

“Could that old man really endure living here?”

Hong Lei didn’t even want to call him “fake bald monk” anymore.

“Maybe he’s gotten used to it.”

Shen Yi replied softly, continuing forward.

According to Zhang the Butcher’s account, even if we start counting from the death of “Yuan Zhi,” it’s already many years ago.

“Why is he keeping these people captive?”

Hong Lei was baffled. If he truly liked raising things, why not just raise pigs?

Shen Yi halted and nodded slightly.

Hong Lei followed his gaze and saw two elderly men holding wooden buckets, pouring liquid into a large pit.

Thick, crimson fluid churned, swirling with faint milky white streaks, mixed with clots of blood.

The two men put down their buckets and stared coldly outward—as if they’d known Shen Yi was coming, yet showed no sign of panic.

They simply stood quietly beside the pool, as if making a declaration, their voices flat: “You two arrived too late. You’ll die here.”

Seeing those vaguely familiar faces, Hong Lei quickly recognized them: both were senior experts of the Golden Body Sect, at least as strong as Master Benxin.

“No good.” He exhaled, gripping his scabbard: “No matter what, you have to give me one.”

“I’ll give you both.”

Shen Yi looked toward the blood pool.

“Both?” Hong Lei smirked, about to refuse, but his gaze was drawn to the pool as well.

The surface churned violently, boiling as if, visibly, the volume was shrinking.

Soon, a bald head emerged.

His face was pale and beardless; his bloodshot eyes were vacant and foolish.

With each breath, the entire blood pool flowed into his body. Black and white hues alternated across his skin—not demonic, but perfectly balanced yin and yang, his aura thick and profound, making the seated abbot resemble a Buddha-slaying Arhat.

“Not through… countless eons… attain Dharmakaya…”

The abbot rose slowly, movements stiff, his voice like a mumble.

“Huh?” Hong Lei gripped his sword hilt tightly.

Could this be interpreted that way? No need to endure immeasurable kalpas to attain enlightenment? You just transfer the tribulation to others and claim the Dharmakaya for yourself?

Does this old man read sutras literally?

“Thank you…”

“Thank you…”

The abbot convulsed, clasped his hands toward the prison cells, then pulled the two Golden Body Sect elders close, embracing them with profound gratitude.

Beneath those seemingly frail arms, the two men had no time to speak before their eyeballs bulged out of their sockets, their bodies cracking with sickening, grating sounds.

When he released them, the two experts—nearly equal to Master Benxin—lay dead, limp as rotting meat.

The abbot stared blankly at the ground, then grinned with a sharp, shrill laugh: “May I now attain the Jewel King’s fruit, and liberate these countless beings… I have completed my path. I was ready to liberate you—but you lack the merit to receive it.”

As he spoke, he shot upward—solid stone walls dozens of zhang thick shattered before him like tofu, and in an instant, he burst out of the dungeon!

“….”

Hong Lei stared numbly at the two corpses on the ground, his heart sinking to the bottom.

He’d heard the Golden Body Sect’s abbot possessed half a scroll of the Golden Core Refining Body Method, but he’d never believed in the existence of a “half Golden Core.”

Yet what he’d just witnessed shattered his understanding completely.

“Thank you.”

At that moment, someone gently tapped his shoulder.

Hong Lei instinctively flinched, then saw Shen Yi pinching a thread of black-and-white qi between his fingers, placing it into the silver bell at his waist, then turning and striding swiftly toward the exit.

“Thank you for what?”

(End of Chapter)