Chapter 646: What status do you have, to compare realms with me?

The cramped alley suddenly fell silent.

The two senior brothers stood with their hands at their sides, silently staring at the monk Zhikong before them; after a long while, the corners of their mouths lifted: "That's good then."

"Please trouble Yan Shidi to send this Dragon Tiger Scripture back to the Sect as soon as possible. The elders are all still waiting."

Zhiqing reached out and patted Zhikong's shoulder, instructing: "Then the two of us won't disturb Yan Shidi any longer. You go ahead with your business. Farewell."

Having said that, the two of them hid smiles in their eyes, no longer hesitating in the slightest, and turned to walk toward the alley's exit—only compared to when they came, their footsteps were noticeably more hurried.

Monk Zhikong maintained the posture of his palms pressed together, slowly opened his eyes, did not look back, and continued to stare at the tips of his shoes: "Senior Brothers, the elders of the Sect once taught us what compassion is."

He simply lacked worldly experience; he wasn't truly a fool.

He also knew that his reaction just now would be hard to make others believe.

It was true that Shen Xianyou had flipped through the Dragon Tiger Scripture, but people are born curious, and ignorance is no crime—let alone the fact that the other party had actually saved two innocent lives right under Zhu Shixiong Lingguang's hands, preventing the scripture from leaking out and causing a great calamity in the mortal world.

Merits and faults cancel each other out.

The two of them slowly halted their steps, exchanged a glance, and their voices gradually cooled: "Did the elders ever teach that a monk does not speak falsehoods?"

As they spoke, they glanced toward the civilian household beside them; a half-closed wooden door swung open without wind, revealing an old woman behind it who was curiously eavesdropping.

Suddenly discovered, the loose skin of the old woman's face trembled a few times; she turned and tried to flee back into the house, but her hunched body suddenly flew backward.

She struggled wildly like a little chick, her head already gripped tightly by a rough, large hand.

In the span of a single breath, the old woman stopped struggling, her gaze blank and dazed; even after being released, she did not think to flee, standing stupidly in place.

Zhiqing took back the golden register from her and tossed it casually.

Swish swish—

The edge of the register was like a blade, suddenly grazing Monk Zhikong's cheek and leaving a faint streak of blood on skin that had reached the Practitioner cultivation.

The disparity in strength between the two was immediately evident.

"She is a mere mortal body who has already gazed upon the precious scripture; this life she will sink into the sea of suffering. Yet you hesitated endlessly, unwilling to save her."

Zhiqing turned his head to look toward the end of the alley and said with a gentle smile: "Now I have saved her in your place, and it serves to teach you what compassion is."

"Yan Shidi, look at what you've become after your worldly training. If the elders were to find out, who knows how heartbroken they would be. Be careful not to fall into the sea of suffering, with flaws in your virtue, and never attain a fruit position in this lifetime."

Monk Zhiming pressed his palms together and softly offered a word of consolation: "I see you have already gathered quite a bit of the mortal world's Imperial Qi. Return to the Sect quickly, ask the elders for help, and complete the final tribulation. Let us cultivate together in hardship and enter the Golden Lotus Practitioner realm as soon as possible."

Having said that, the two of them stepped forward again and soon walked out of this civilian alley.

What they wanted was the content on the Dragon Tiger Scripture, not the scripture itself. Compared to taking it from Zhikong—which would cause a great deal of trouble—it was better to take it from that "other person." No one could find fault with that.

"Hoo."

Monk Zhikong stood in place, his expression dazed.

A monk does not speak falsehoods; flaws in virtue, never attain a fruit position… many such words echoed in his ears.

After a long while, he bent down to pick up that golden register, turned and walked to the dazed old woman, and murmured: "So be it if it's lacking."

He sat cross-legged, raised both palms, and from his lips and tongue exhaled the mortal world's Imperial Qi he had obtained through begging and bearing tribulations for others; it slowly seeped into the top of the foolish old woman's skull.

In an instant, the expressions of the two seemed to swap.

To make use of Imperial Qi, one must digest the power of vows within it.

Monk Zhikong's expression gradually turned dazed, while the old woman's eyes grew increasingly clear.

Yet this time, the process of digesting the vow-power was actually somewhat easier than before.

Soon, Monk Zhikong regained a bit of his senses, and a vulgar curse rang in his ears.

"Thief of a monk! Murder!"

The old woman was clearly still immersed in the panic from moments ago; she kicked Monk Zhikong in the chest and darted back into the house like she was fleeing, slamming the door shut with a bang.

"Easy there, my lord."

Monk Zhikong's face was pale; he gave a helpless smile, brushed off his chest, rose, and likewise left the alley.

Imperial Qi obtained through begging should rightly be used on those from whom it came.

……

An inn in Jianyang Prefecture.

Although the Zhan Yao Si could not openly reveal their identity, they were after all members of the imperial court, and the lodging arrangements that should be made were not lacking.

However, ever since Shen Yi had joined, he had been rushing about with Meng Xiuwen and had not yet had the chance to meet the Prefect, so it was a bit late, and he could only temporarily stay at the inn.

He rested briefly in his room and did not go seek out old acquaintances from Hongze to chat.

Greeting everyone in front of the Earth Deity Temple and the Zhan Yao Si was one thing; getting entangled too much in other places was another matter entirely.

With many eyes about, Shen Yi had not forgotten that he still had trouble on him that had yet to be dealt with.

Knock knock.

Just then, a knock came from outside.

Shen Yi raised an eyebrow slightly; he did not want any more unexpected changes right now.

He pushed open the door and saw that the visitor was Ye Jing.

"Lord Shen, earlier a child brought this letter to the inn, saying it was from a monk. That monk still had to go notify others, so he didn't come himself."

"Mm?"

Shen Yi took the letter, flipped it open casually.

Sure enough, as expected—the only monk he knew in this Jianyang Prefecture was that Master Zhikong.

The contents of the letter were very simple.

Disciples of the Puti Sect have come pursuing; their intentions are not good. Please leave Jianyang Prefecture as soon as possible, and go somewhere closer to the Imperial Capital—the closer the better.

"Is something the matter?"

Seeing Shen Yi's expression change slightly, Ye Jing looked over with some curiosity.

Even when facing the Immortal Official earlier, this Lord Shen had not shown any fluctuation in emotion.

"……"

Shen Yi slowly folded the letter and lifted his gaze to look outside.

Having been out here for quite some time now, his understanding of the Puti Sect was already far beyond what it had once been.

It was a colossal entity, far beyond anything he could have imagined.

Having taken their things and killed their disciples, there was no way to walk away so easily — being tracked down to his doorstep was only natural.

He just hadn't expected Master Zhikong to actually tip him off.

Under normal circumstances, Shen Yi would certainly withdraw without a moment's hesitation, at least waiting for Ye Lan — the true powerhouse capable of commanding the situation — to return.

But right now—

In this vast Jianyang Prefecture, there still lived a great many old friends.

"Send word to Meng. I'm going to find him."

Shen Yi was no arrogant man. He had experienced firsthand just how fearsome the disciples of the Puti Sect were. Let alone fighting them across realms — even within the same realm, the outcome was uncertain given his current foundation.

Meng Xiuwen had been able to slay the master of that bear demon; his strength went without saying. He was perhaps the only person Shen Yi could rely on right now.

Although this was his own private grudge with the Puti Sect.

But they were colleagues after all. A prestigious divine dynasty could hardly stand by and watch one of its own demon-slayers beaten to death right under its nose, could it?

"Understood!"

Ye Jing grasped the gravity of the situation at once. Without further fuss, she formed a hand seal, and a streak of spiritual light shot out the door.

She pushed the door open and swept a glance around. Finding nothing amiss, she led the way downstairs.

The inn was packed, and the long street outside remained as bustling as ever.

"Lord Shen, something feels off."

Ye Jing threaded through the crowd, her steps gradually slowing. She crouched down and picked up a fruit still beaded with dew from a street vendor's stall.

"Care to try one?" The vendor's broad smile eased, just slightly, the doubts in this demon-slayer's heart.

She returned a faint smile and set the fruit back down.

"Perhaps I'm overthinking." Ye Jing let out a soft breath. Maybe it was everything she'd been through lately that had her jumping at shadows. "Let's go find Meng first."

She continued on her way, but noticed Lord Shen still standing where he was. She turned back, puzzled.

Shen Yi gazed quietly ahead.

Two women walked side by side — one in a dark robe, the other in a white dress — both possessed of a rare, otherworldly grace. With fresh curiosity they took in this land of Shenzhou, discussing the differences between Jianyang Prefecture and Outside Qingzhou.

Then, just like that, they brushed past each other and walked on.

"Tch."

Shen Yi closed his eyes. The same old trick — but what truly left him helpless was that back then he had been at the Dao realm, so failing to see through it was forgivable. Now he had reached the perfection of the Taiyi Zhenxian realm, had even received General General Yan Lan's tempering, his cultivation was whole and harmonious — and yet he still could not see through it.

The disciples of the Three Sects truly defied common sense.

The instant Shen Yi closed his eyes, the long street around them emptied in a flash. A wisp of spiritual light transformed into a withered leaf, drifting down to land softly at their feet.

Ye Jing's gaze dropped sharply, fixing on that leaf.

It was the message she had just sent to Meng — intercepted in utter silence.

Almost in the same instant, her hand was already on the sword hilt at her waist. Blinding white light — Bai Mang — began to gather, surging skyward, as she tried to use her Taiyi Zhenxian cultivation to shatter this illusion.

Yet the Bai Mang spilling from the scabbard, the instant it flared, receded like a tide.

A thread of nearly imperceptible Jin Guang slipped into the seam, and she couldn't even draw her sword.

"Lord Shen, run!"

Ye Jing's face went an uncharacteristic shade of pale. Jin Guang shatters all dharma — this was the Puti Sect!

As a member of the Zhan Yao Si, she had always been prepared for the day the Three Sects came seeking revenge.

And for whoever sought revenge to dare commit such an outrage, to strike within a great prefecture of the Divine Dynasty — it could not be over some trivial grudge.

But she truly did not recall Jianyang Prefecture ever having offended the Puti Sect, nor did they even have a chance to react.

The next moment, the familiar long street slowly faded away.

It became a resplendent great hall. On either side stood empty offering platforms. Only at the very front stood a Golden Body divine statue, its majesty beyond words.

That robust, towering frame — flawless, not the slightest blemish to be found.

Behind it trailed dragons and tigers of equally massive scale.

The dragon posed as if taking flight, the tiger as if descending the mountain. Thick chains coiled around them, the other ends bound to the divine statue.

Below the offering platforms sat four meditation cushions.

Two of them were already occupied. The figures upon them had their limbs forcibly bent into postures of penitent submission, pinned in place by sharp ritual implements.

"You have committed sins. Purify them with devotion."

An indifferent voice echoed out, then in the next instant transformed into a thunderous roar!

"Kneel!"

The roar layered upon itself, like thunder pounding the ears, rolling endlessly through the great hall.

The two figures on the cushions convulsed violently, their faces contorted beyond recognition, weeping in utter misery: "We saw nothing, we saw nothing at all! Master, we're innocent!"

Before the words had faded, the man's head exploded on the spot!

A bloodstained steel staff thudded into the ground.

The female cultivator of the Ziyun Sect instantly lost her voice, her features twisted as she stared at the pair of tattered straw sandals that had suddenly appeared before her — she didn't even dare look at the owner of those sandals.

"You truly saw nothing?"

The ascetic monk slowly bent forward. The woman finally let out a shrill scream: "I don't even know what you're talking about!"

"I see."

Monk Zhiqing nodded and murmured to himself, then cast his gaze toward the dark-robed youth in the distance: "In that case, the sin must lie with you, Benefactor?"

As he spoke, his face remained placid, and only now did a trace of a smile appear: "Then why doesn't the donor kneel down, sincerely confess your fault, and seek the Dragon-Tiger Arhat's forgiveness?"

In an instant, the long staff in his hand rose again, and without the slightest hesitation, he brought it down toward the woman's skull.

Clang—

What rang out was not the sound of a skull bursting, but a crisp metallic hum.

A second long staff blocked it in the middle.

A monk whose entire body radiated golden light suddenly burst into this phantom barrier, silently taking the blow, and looked toward Zhikong with an expressionless face: "Thief of a monk, you've killed someone."

Hearing this form of address, Zhikong's expression shifted slightly, a flash of indignation appearing in his eyes.

Yet he said nothing, only gathering all his strength and pressing the staff downward.

"…"

Master Zhikong's two thin arms suddenly began to tremble violently; no matter how brilliant the golden light on his body, it could not stop the staff from slowly descending.

A Five-Tribulation Pilgrim clashed with a Six-Tribulation Pilgrim — a difference of only one tribulation, yet it represented a cultivation of one hundred twenty-nine thousand six hundred years.

His arm bones gradually began to creak, his skin stretched taut, and then shattered; the golden-glowing blood stained the entire long staff, yet he still refused to let go.

A deep anguish appeared on Master Zhikong's face.

Last time he arrived late, and this time he arrived late again.

He was always late.

And even when he arrived, it seemed he could change nothing.

Just then, Zhikong suddenly saw another strange smile appear on Zhikong's face — no, on Zhiming's face — as if he had anticipated something, and he sharply turned his head to look into the distance.

Even with his eyesight, he could only faintly make out a staff-shadow, whipping straight toward Ye Jing's back.

"I've prepared four cushions, and not a single one can be left empty," Zhikong whispered softly.

"You lot… also dare speak of mercy!" A rare ferocity appeared on Master Zhikong's face; after breaking the precept against false speech, he had now broken another of the Three Poisons — the precept against wrath.

Among those present, apart from him, no one else could receive that second staff.

Save the one before his eyes, and he could not save the one in the distance.

With Ye Jing's cultivation, she could not even detect the existence of that staff, let alone dodge it.

Bang!

Another muffled thud, yet it caused the expression on Zhikong's face to freeze for an instant.

That descending staff, just like that, quietly fell into a fair-skinned palm.

Shen Yi's figure was tall and slender, standing ramrod straight; with his eyes closed, at such close range he had finally caught the trail of that iron staff.

But catching the trail was not what mattered — what mattered was how he received it.

"You…"

Zhiming, who had launched the sneak attack, tried to pull back his staff, only to find it strenuous; between the skin of that gripping palm, golden light had likewise risen.

Among those present, there was actually a fourth Pilgrim.

The matter itself was shocking enough, but what truly puzzled Zhiming was — judging by how faint that golden light was — how could the other party, with merely a Three-Tribulation Lotus Platform, withstand his Six-Tribulation Lotus Platform barehanded.

"Why?" He gripped the long staff tightly, once again trying to wrench it free.

"Because." Shen Yi slowly opened his eyes; that long staff writhed in his palm like a struggling serpent, yet no matter what, it could not break free of the five fingers' grip.

His ink-black robe billowed; he suddenly exerted his strength, hoisted the entire monk Zhiming up, and slammed him heavily into the ground.

Boom!

Beneath the entire great hall it was as if an earth-dragon had overturned; every square brick exploded into fragments!

Zhiming's chest tightened; he looked up in astonishment, only to see that youth gripping the staff tightly, his gaze dark and still as he looked down, his voice carrying not the slightest ripple.

"I am an official; you are a thief."

At those brief words, Zhiming was stunned for a moment, and finally looked past Shen Yi's figure toward the sky behind him.

Between the heavens, the rolling imperial aura churned.

All cultivators — whether immortals or Pilgrims — within the domain of the Divine Dynasty would suffer tremendous suppression.

But clearly, this man had not been affected in the slightest!

This tremendous authority was even comparable to the Prefect of Jianyang!

(End of this chapter)