Chapter 794: Seventy-Two Caves Golden Immortal

The Sanxian Sect's sudden full-scale counterattack caused a cataclysmic shift in the entire Dongzhou situation.

But long before the Dazizai Lianzhu Bodhisattva struck down the young Chu Xi, Xumishan had foreseen this moment—only not so soon.

The great monks of Dongxumishan had long ago sent word to their fellow disciples in the other two continents.

As time passed, the Arhats trod the Shanhe on foot, the Bodhisattvas' lotus thrones flew through the air, turning the clear sky into an endless lotus pond.

They gradually arrived in Dongzhou.

The proper sequence of the great calamity was to first breach the Divine Dynasty, then establish Xian shrines and Buddhist temples to govern refugees, and only after all that was completed would the disciples of both great sects display their divine arts to compete for the supreme position of Immortal Emperor.

The victor would secure a more dominant position in the future division of incense offerings for their respective sect.

It was also a gentleman's agreement between the Puti Sect and the Sanxian Sect.

But now it seemed something had changed—even though Da Nanzhou had yet to fall and the Divine Dynasty had not collapsed, the entire process had abruptly leapt to its final step.

Disciples of both sects streamed into Dongzhou, subtly signaling an intent to settle superiority here directly.

Under these circumstances, Master Miaoyin grew restless.

He had previously exhausted himself defending his fellow sect members, playing the sacrificial pawn, and finally built up enough reputation to surpass several senior brothers stronger than himself and accomplish the great task of unifying Dongzhou.

Had things followed the normal course, though he was under house arrest and needed to lie low to avoid further provoking the Sanxian Sect, his actual achievement in eliminating Chu Xi as a major threat to the Puti Sect was undeniable.

Once the storm passed, when he reemerged, he would still be the senior brother whom his peers saw as the one who drove out those Xian practitioners.

Who could have imagined the Sanxian Sect's counterattack would come so swiftly?

At this moment, Master Miaoyin sat cross-legged atop Foshan, gazing down at the gathering masses of his fellow disciples. He hesitated for an instant, then his eyes flared with ruthless determination.

He had not left Dongxumishan recently, but he had heard rumors of the Taixu Zhenjun's deeds.

Those of the same kind understand each other best.

That seven-refined immortal sword, coupled with his brazenly stepping forward to slay numerous Bodhisattvas and Arhats, proved this man was nearly identical to himself—possessing formidable sect backing but lacking personal strength, forced to become the sacrificial pawn to gain Great Ming Wang.

Of course, even knowing his opponent was outwardly strong but inwardly hollow, he had no desire to confront such a being unless absolutely necessary.

But now…

Master Miaoyin's eyes narrowed slightly. Not only would showing retreat make his fellow disciples view him with contempt, he also genuinely needed an excuse to reemerge, lest the monks arriving from the other two continents seize the initiative.

"I understand."

He slowly rose, turned, and entered the great temple.

Inside, a withered old monk sat upon a meditation cushion, his eyebrows bearing ten holes, forming with his eyes the exact shape of a lotus pod—hence his name, Lianzhu Bodhisattva.

"Master, I wish to descend the mountain," Master Miaoyin pulled up his robe and knelt before the old monk.

"..." The Dazizai Lianzhu Bodhisattva opened his six pairs of eyes, gazing fondly at the young monk before him.

Teacher and disciple were like father and son; he knew full well what his disciple desired. Though the True Buddha had decreed their mountain must remain still for now, looking down at the sect disciples below, this was clearly the will of the multitude.

It was merely a seven-refined spiritual treasure—could he not provide it?

He reached out, gently stroking Master Miaoyin's head, then placed a purple-gold alms bowl into his hands: "Go. Rest assured—I am watching over all."

Though this seven-refined purple-gold alms bowl was his own protective Buddhist treasure, it was ultimately an inanimate object; better to give it to his disciple than let it gather dust, so it might shine anew.

If anything went wrong, he had already overstepped before—repeating his past actions in Nanping Fucheng would be no great matter.

…

Dozens of lotus thrones—no fewer than thirty or fifty—shot forth from Xumishan.

Their grandeur turned the heavens' auspicious clouds yellow.

Led by Master Miaoyin, countless Golden Body Arhats marched forward in heavy steps, like human beasts of prey, shaking the earth as they advanced toward Nanping Fucheng.

Under the Sanxian Sect's counterattack, the Puti Sect had not mustered such a terrifying force in a long time.

The instant Buddhist light once again enveloped Nanping Fucheng, though it was daytime with the sun high overhead, the sky plunged into a dark, murky yellow.

Thick Buddhist clouds surged like tidal waves, crashing forward as if the entire heavens had sunk ten thousand zhang, suffocating all beneath.

From the heavy clouds, towering Bodhisattva manifestations gradually appeared, their outlines sharpening, countless colossal faces stern and cold, gazing down upon the mortal world.

These terrifying giants tightly encircled Songfeng Fucheng; beneath their feet, fully armed Arhats flooded into the city like a torrent.

Lotus thrones descended one after another, each Bodhisattva upon them glaring furiously at the great hall within the Fucheng.

"..."

Xiang Ming and the others, upon realizing the situation, turned pale, their eyes filled with deep dread.

They had anticipated the Puti Sect's long silence meant they were plotting a major move, and knew that if the monks sought revenge, they would likely target the most prominent figure—Taixu Zhu Shixiong.

But even so, seeing the sky filled with Buddhist clouds, their hearts still trembled slightly.

Even bullying the few has its limits.

To make such a spectacle—do they truly believe the Sanxian Sect has no one?

Yet the very advantage they once held had become their deadliest weakness: the fury ignited by Taixu Zhu Shixiong himself had driven his fellow disciples into a bloodlust, allowing them to seize half of Dongzhou—but also forcing them to garrison their own domains, scattered across the land, unable to gather quickly.

"Zhu Shixiong Taixu, flee first!"

The female disciple previously rescued now gripped her longsword tightly; though her heartbeat thundered in her ears and her cheeks flushed with tension, she stood firm at the hall's entrance, posture resolute to defend the door to her death.

Xiang Ming and the others said nothing more; all summoned their spiritual treasures.

After this period of recuperation, they had all regained most of their cultivation.

"You slaughtered so many of our brethren—and now you wish to flee?"

The Bodhisattvas' expressions darkened, twisted with savagery: "Now that Zhu Shixiong Miaoyin has descended, it is time for you beasts to pay with blood!"

"Tsk."

Even Master Miaoyin was taken aback—he knew his sect had suffered many setbacks lately, but had not expected the resentment to have grown so thick.

If he could purge this resentment, his reputation would surge again, reaching a level no one could shake.

Thinking this, he glanced at the purple-gold alms bowl in his hand, then turned back to the hall, his voice cold: "The conflict between our two sects was meant to be a test of our abilities, originally intended to save the world. But you acted with such cruelty, adopting the demeanor of demons and devils—do not blame us for slaying demons and subduing evil."

As his words echoed, several Sanxian Sect disciples turned grim-faced but offered no retort.

They had long grown accustomed to the brazen shamelessness of this group of bald monks.

Before the eyes of all.

A slender figure stepped slowly out of the grand hall, facing the dim yellow sky, the towering silhouette faintly visible amid the clouds, and the golden bodies of arhats scattered across the ground; with only three or five disciples beside him, he appeared solitary indeed.

"Senior brother, ignore them. As long as we preserve the green mountains, we'll never lack firewood."

The scene before him bore striking resemblance to what Master Chu Xi had faced back then—only now, it was the Sanxian Sect that held the upper hand.

Xiang Ming and the others gripped their ritual artifacts, ready to escort Master Taixu out; if they could survive today's disaster, they too could follow suit and topple these monks' great temple.

"…"

Shen Yi acted as if he heard nothing, his gaze fixed instead on the foremost among the bodhisattvas.

The next instant, he casually drew the Wuwei Sword.

A crisp, ringing chime sounded.

No words were needed—this single motion fully enraged the bodhisattvas above.

Such arrogance and contempt stirred memories of that day when he had purged Nanping—every single monk among the thousand perished without survivors.

If we do not break this man's immortal sword and shatter his Dao fruit today, the Puti Sect might as well withdraw from the great calamity entirely and surrender Sizhou outright.

"You remind me a lot of Chu Xi."

Master Miaoyin raised a palm to quell his disciples' fury, then smiled lightly: "I hope you still possess this pride when you die."

His confidence came not only from the purple-gold alms bowl in his hand, but also from his master's promise before departure.

The harder Master Taixu Zhenjun stood his ground, the more advantageous it was for him.

In an instant, he swept his hand forward—the purple-gold alms bowl plummeted downward, no larger than a palm, yet crashing like the combined weight of three mountains and five peaks.

The moment it left his hand, the entire Songfeng Fucheng shuddered violently.

Before the Sanxian Sect disciples could recover from their outrage over the mention of Master Chu Xi, they instantly felt their Dao fruits shriek in agony within their bodies.

They had seen Master Miaoyin fight before—never had he bested Master Taixu, nor even matched Master Chu Xi's strength—how could he now wield such terrifying power?

Clearly, the Great Freedom Bodhisattva had granted him additional reserves.

"Companions, the time to avenge our fallen brethren is now."

Master Miaoyin knew full well that Master Taixu Zhenjun was equally cherished by his sect; his reserves could not possibly be weak—he did not wish to be entangled, and as he struck, he murmured a warning.

In an instant, the surrounding bodhisattvas, along with the countless arhats beneath their feet, all unleashed their Jinhe, channeling it all into the alms bowl.

Xiang Ming and the others, beneath the Buddhist chants, felt their skulls swelling as if about to burst, their souls on the verge of shattering.

At that moment, the dark-robed figure did not retreat or dodge—he stepped lightly forward.

Instantly, the entire Songfeng Fucheng ceased its trembling, falling into an uncanny stillness.

A few Sanxian Sect disciples froze, then their faces flushed with shock—it was the technique of the Shangqing lineage! Even without the Wuwei Sword, merely by invoking this Pure Realm, Master Taixu could not only survive beneath the bowl, but protect the entire city as well.

Such cultivation—among the myriad prodigies who had reached the ninety-nine transformations—he could rightly be called peerless!

"…"

The bodhisattvas too noticed the bowl's descent slowing—but unlike the Sanxian Sect disciples, they did not look at Shen Yi; instead, they instinctively raised their eyes to the surroundings.

Master Miaoyin clearly sensed something—he paused briefly, then his expression hardened with resolve.

"Leave nothing behind!"

He roared, leading the bodhisattvas in unleashing every ounce of their calamity energy into the bowl.

Simultaneously, a withered, massive hand pierced the sky, accompanied by a cold laugh, casually grasping the bowl—and slammed it back with full force.

Boom!

Master Miaoyin, caught utterly off-guard, was struck hard upon the chest by the returning bowl; his body nearly split open, flung backward from his lotus throne in an instant—his bones shattered, his tendons snapped, his body collapsed.

Fortunately, an invisible hand caught him, sparing him from immediate death.

"Guk… guk…"

Master Miaoyin twitched faintly; he sensed his master's earlier effort to dissipate the force—but he could not fathom why his master had not appeared.

He struggled to lift his head toward the heavens—and his pupils dilated instantly.

The dim yellow clouds above had suddenly cleared, revealing an old man riding on a cloud, gazing calmly at him; beside him stood a young man, face tense with worry.

And what truly chilled Master Miaoyin, leaving all the monks around him breathless…

Were the auspicious clouds rising one after another behind the old man.

Upon each white cloud stood a Dao Lord—until they filled the monks' entire field of vision.

They exuded immortal grace, their expressions serene.

Compared to these beings, the grand spectacle the Puti Sect had so deliberately staged now seemed absurd.

"Seventy-two Caves' Jin Xian…"

Master Miaoyin finally understood why his master refused to show himself—because the man standing before him… was the entire Sanxian Sect!

He had never dreamed he would see so many famed titans at once—not even daring to pull the bowl embedded in his breastbone, he trembled and shut his eyes.

"Old age… I didn't hold back enough."

Xuan Weizi gazed into the void, smiling lightly.

Where he looked, not a ripple stirred—the Great Freedom Bodhisattva hiding within dared not even show his face.

Li Shan exhaled softly, his gaze falling upon the young man before the grand hall.

In his eyes rose a touch of envy—but no jealousy.

Under such a siege, the sect's elders had arrived precisely in time—and witnessed their first disciple standing fearless, even defending his companions.

This was a tremendous opportunity—but not everyone had the courage to seize it; at least, he himself might not have dared step forward.

Master Taixu was not alone… At this moment, behind him stood every Jin Xian of the Sanxian Sect—even all the great monks of Dong Xumí, save the top-tier, would have to retreat!

"Chir."

Xuan Weizi, too lazy to bother with that cowering bald monk, glanced sideways at the great hall below.

Even though his disciple Li Shan stood right beside him, gazing at the figure of the Daoist Lord in black robes standing straight and tall, he could not help but feel a touch of envy in his eyes.

What merit does my junior brother Lingxu have to possess such a disciple?

The calm scene of drawing the sword just now displayed the sturdiest backbone of the Sanxian Sect.

Chiyunzi remained silent, staring deeply at Shen Yi.

The other immortals were filled with emotion, while only Lingxuzi breathed heavily; he had warned and instructed the boy a thousand times not to cause trouble. Although he made a huge scene today, if he had missed by even half a step, the entire future of the Lingxu lineage would have been buried.

Facing the envious gazes of so many senior brothers and junior brothers, he could only force a smile to cover his displeasure.

"Let's go, take a stroll in East Sumeru."

Xuan Weizi withdrew his gaze and looked straight into the depths of the Eastern Continent.

First, that great monk, acting with no respect for his age, struck down Master Chu Xi of the Elder Chi Yun Cave; now, we have just arrived in the Eastern Continent and witnessed this scene of many bullying the few.

If we do not make those monks give an explanation today and vent the anger of the Taihu juniors, did we not come here for nothing?

Seeing the senior uncles and aunts looking fierce and ready to demand accountability, Li Shan was stunned for a moment, then glanced at Shen Yi with a strange expression.

The elders... seem to have a slight misunderstanding of the current situation in the Eastern Continent.

(End of this chapter)