Chapter 837: Can You Escape the Great Tribulation? Can You Escape Me?

Affairs have come to this; even the Emperor of the East Pole could only temporarily suppress his thoughts.

Everyone fell silent, fully focused on the scene before them.

In truth, even the disciples of the Three Immortals Sect were unclear about Shen Yi’s true strength; though their senior disciple had amassed many shocking feats—such as barely defeating three peers including You Yao, and slaying over a thousand monks in the battle at Nanping Prefecture.

But the former was obscured by the Grand Void Realm; no one knew what exactly transpired within, while the latter, though numerous, mostly consisted of Luo Hans—the five Bodhisattvas were all Six-Six Transformations, worthy only of being called ferocious and ruthless; in terms of actual power, many of the sect’s direct disciples could accomplish the same.

Now facing this third-rank perfected Bodhisattva of Nan Sumeru, all believed Shen Yi could win—but whether he could achieve the overwhelming dominance matching his reputation remained uncertain.

“…”

The monk from Xuantian Mountain had intended to emulate the second cultivator he had faced, calmly awaiting Shen Yi’s attack to find an opening before countering.

But he had not anticipated the opponent would not move at all, merely hovering silently in midair.

As time passed, the pressure within him grew steadily, until his fingertips began to tremble imperceptibly.

This was the power of a famed reputation.

He could wait no longer!

The thin, dark-skinned monk feared that if he waited any longer, he would lose his courage to strike before Shen Yi revealed any weakness.

He bent low once more and let out a hoarse roar.

The Golden Body Dharma Form behind him mirrored the motion, thrusting forth its twin Vajra Clubs, and a surging golden river instantly flooded the yellow clouds.

Seeing the approaching Vajra Clubs, Shen Yi finally moved—dark clouds roared across the sky, enveloping his entire being, and his form vanished into invisibility.

“He retreated?”

Not only the Three Immortals Sect disciples, but even the monks stared in stunned disbelief, raising their heads one after another.

Given the Weiming of the Grand Void True Lord, one might expect him to either crush his peer outright or at least engage in a direct clash—yet he chose to evade from the very start. Was this caution or cowardice? It was hard to say.

“This…” Xuanwei Zi had just comforted himself that the outcome was settled, and that even this display would intimidate the monks—but now he saw this, and turned to Li Shan in confusion.

After all, most of what he knew about Shen Yi came from this disciple’s mouth.

“I don’t know either.”

Li Shan too found it hard to comprehend; even if his Senior Brother Taixu’s Dao Fruit seemed ill-suited for direct confrontation, the swordlight that had blazed in Nanping Prefecture alone should have been enough to leave this monk reeling.

Many of the Three Immortals Sect’s direct disciples exchanged uneasy glances.

Yet something even more shocking was yet to come.

The Xuantian Mountain monk was equally baffled by the opponent’s response, but since he had already struck, there was no turning back—he gritted his teeth and drove his Dharma Form straight into the vast, hollow expanse of the dark clouds.

Twin Vajra Clubs swung repeatedly, effortlessly tearing through the black clouds.

Shen Yi’s hidden form began to reappear; no matter how he dodged, the surrounding black clouds were rapidly being washed away by the golden river, the covering area shrinking ever smaller, until he would inevitably be left with nowhere to flee.

“…”

Below, the Three Immortals Sect disciples’ eyes filled with bewilderment.

Was this disheveled cultivator truly their own fearsome senior disciple?

“So our senior disciple is afraid to fight?!” The thin, dark-skinned monk’s fighting spirit surged higher, and he bellowed a thunderous question like a great bronze bell, striding up into the heavens, his many Buddhist treasures glowing in unison, his massive Dharma Form sealing off every possible escape route.

“Tsk.”

The Emperor of the East Pole frowned; reputation might be inflated, but it should not be this pitiful.

He could roughly guess Shen Yi’s intent—but he found the man foolish.

Either lie in wait like a venomous snake and deliver a fatal strike, or, if choosing to step forward, wield the true spirit of a dragon and awe all eight directions.

How could one desire both—to conceal one’s depth yet refuse to remain an idle observer—ending up losing both?

Clearly, this senior disciple might have slightly higher cultivation than others, but far from possessing the power to subdue a peer Bodhisattva without revealing his true strength.

Now the Xuantian Mountain disciples’ momentum had reached its peak, and the black clouds had been torn apart by nearly ninety percent; to capture this monk now would demand a far greater cost.

The Emperor’s vision was exceedingly sharp.

The instant his thoughts passed, Shen Yi was indeed cornered.

The remaining black clouds could no longer shield him.

And the thin, dark-skinned monk had, for the first time, gained positional superiority—he stepped upward with each stride, looking down at the shadow darting through the fading clouds, his eyes gleaming with ferocity.

Whether the opponent had another plan or was truly weak inside, he must seize this chance to win.

The Vajra Clubs were like two giant brushes; the golden river, an endless ink.

Each swing earlier had left marks upon heaven and earth; now, these marks formed a colossal handprint upon the yellow clouds.

Within the towering Golden Body, the monk’s chest heaved violently; both he and his Dharma Form raised their arms high, then slammed them down.

The Vajra Clubs descended like inverted mountains, crashing from the heavens with thunderous force, aimed directly at the dark-robed Daoist Lord, now with no room to evade.

After Shen Yi stepped forward, no one had imagined the situation would become this absurd.

Even if his strength was high, he still resided within the third-rank realm; facing this most ferocious strike, he too faced mortal peril.

“How could this happen?”

Haoming True Person’s face had turned ashen; he stared wide-eyed at the twin golden peaks descending, his whisper as faint as a mosquito’s buzz.

Before all eyes.

Shen Yi’s expression was grave, his thin lips tightly pressed.

At that moment, he seemed to find his opening—his eyes flashed with sudden brilliance, and at the peak of the thin monk’s momentum, he swiftly formed a sword finger, and a white rainbow shot forth from his fingertip.

Puchī—

The Xuantian Mountain disciple lunged like a tiger, yet struck a green stone—his entire body suddenly shuddered.

He stared dumbly downward, at the gash on his body.

That fleeting sword had precisely pierced his Dao Fruit; under the impact of boundless tribulation energy, the golden fruit he had refined for years cracked instantly, visibly dimming before their eyes.

The monk trembled as he raised his head, trying to speak—but under the sword intent’s devastation, his life force vanished outright.

A thread of crimson fluid spilled into the heavens.

Announcing that this Dharma Debate, originally meant to prevent further escalation, had now claimed its first life…

The entire arena fell deathly silent.

Only Shen Yi’s faint breathing remained.

“He did it on purpose!”

Miaoyin Monk leapt to his feet and roared toward the arena.

Though he had mocked inwardly moments before, he now realized at once: the opponent had possessed such a spiritual treasure sword yet never drawn it, deliberately allowing himself to be cornered—this was no fair duel, but a calculated excuse to kill!

“…”

The Emperor of the East Pole also froze for a moment.

His earlier assumption had stemmed from the fact that no one would ever act as Miaoyin suggested.

For this great tribulation was meant to select the Immortal Emperor.

Even after winning the Dharma Debate, victory required recognition from both sects.

To conceal one’s strength solely to kill would surely ignite the Bodhi Sect’s fury and resistance, bringing no benefit to one’s future.

After the monk’s words sank in,

the Three Immortals Sect disciples finally understood the reason behind this absurd scene.

They looked at their Senior Brother Taixu’s back with complex expressions.

Why would he do something so utterly detrimental to himself?

The crimson fluid falling from the heavens pierced their eyes, slightly blinding.

Under this shock, many disciples began recalling things long buried.

For instance, they had not originally sought to claim a Dao Hall, but to seek justice for their fallen sectmates.

From the very beginning—Master Ling Su, Brother Mao Feng… then the many disciples who perished in Dongzhou, and Brother Chu Xi, slain by the Great Freedom Bodhisattva.

It was not Senior Brother Taixu who was flawed—it was they themselves, blinded by incense and offerings, who found his actions strange and incomprehensible.

This senior brother had never forgotten his original purpose.

He came to demand justice—blood must be repaid with blood!

“No wonder he’s always stationed in Nanping Prefecture, never competing with junior disciples for incense…” Li Shan’s throat moved as he looked toward his master, shame now thick on his face.

Everyone was using the names of the dead to pursue personal gain—yet the only one who truly cared was this young disciple who had only recently joined.

He was the true, undisputed senior disciple of the Three Immortals Sect!

“Bullshit! Did your disciple show even a shred of mercy? You drove our Senior Brother Taixu to this brink—do you forbid him from striking back?!”

Xiang Ming raised his arm and shouted back at Miaoyin: “Duels always carry risks—if you fear death, just kneel down and admit defeat!”

Other disciples echoed him, and soon the monks were silenced, unable to utter a single word.

“…”

The Joyful Buddha gazed coldly down at the dark-robed Daoist Lord; he remembered having said before the debate that harmony should be valued.

This young disciple clearly hadn’t listened.

Facing the icy gaze of a True Buddha, Shen Yi did not turn—he stood quietly, hands hanging at his sides.

From the start, he had never intended to fight these third-rank disciples.

He was fighting these first-rank titans.

And what he fought for was not their power—but the anger and hatred burning in the hearts of the disciples of both sects, which the True Buddhas sought to extinguish, and which he would never accept.

“What exactly do you intend?”

The Empress of the Earth ignored the Emperor of the East Pole’s gaze, instead fixing her eyes on the young disciple, silently questioning within.

She was growing increasingly unable to understand him.

He did not seek to become Immortal Emperor, yet stirred a bloodshed—his true goal was utterly incomprehensible. Which side did this man stand on?

It shouldn't be… over there, right?

The Earth Mother Goddess instinctively gazed toward the east, beyond Mount Sumeru, toward the imperial capital.

“Let the True Buddha decide!”

Many Great Freedom Bodhisattvas also wore grim expressions, their eyes turning to the two True Buddhas.

Just as the Joyful True Buddha moved, the Emperor of the East Raised an eyebrow; before he could speak, the Earth Mother Goddess cast him a cool glance: “When your disciple was overly agitated and didn’t hear clearly, we said nothing.”

She referred specifically to the incident when True Person Haoming had stepped forward to concede defeat, yet was still severely injured.

“Hmph.”

The Joyful True Buddha met her gaze—he had never expected this Earth Mother Emperor, who ignored worldly affairs, would lose her temper in the face of this doctrinal conflict.

That reputation for pure compassion for the world may not be entirely genuine.

“Old monk only wishes to say: harboring ill intent toward others will ultimately harm oneself.”

“Since both Emperors deem it acceptable, old monk has no objection. Since this is a Dharma debate, let strength speak for itself.”

As he spoke, the Joyful True Buddha lightly swept his sleeve, quelling the monks’ unrest.

Yet the hatred blazing in the monks’ eyes as they stared at Shen Yi was too fierce for even a First-Rank Giant to suppress.

Under these circumstances, the Dark Robe Dao Lord still showed no restraint.

Shen Yi adjusted his breath slightly, then looked again at the monks and nodded slightly: “Again.”

These two simple words carried more weight than the Joyful True Buddha’s entire speech.

The monks, moments ago brimming with resentment, fell strangely silent upon hearing them.

You looked at me; I looked at you.

The situation was hardly different from that of the Three Immortals Sect’s disciples earlier.

The monk Miao Yin, who had roared out moments before, now sat back down without hesitation—he would have to fight Shen Yi eventually, but first he needed more information to tip the odds in his favor.

Just as before, even if unwilling, those who had to step forward could not avoid it.

“I humbly request your instruction, Senior Brother!”

Seeing no escape, the yellow-robed monk gritted his teeth and strode forward onto the yellow clouds.

Again, the Golden Body manifestation was shrouded in black clouds.

He clearly did not wish to suffer the same fate as the Xuantian Mountain disciples. Since Shen Yi remained still, he stood motionless in place—after all, he would never give the other an excuse to deliver a killing blow.

But as time passed, he began to sense something was wrong.

The surrounding black clouds grew denser, nearly obscuring his vision, and within the void, slender threads of sword intent began to emerge—like needles pricking his back, making his whole body tremble.

The killing intent surged ever stronger, eroding his sanity.

The monk even felt that the instant sword intent filled his entire body, it would be his death.

How could a cultivator who had reached the Third Rank, having honed his instincts through years of arduous cultivation, tolerate surrendering his life and death to another?

Beads of sweat gathered thickly on the monk’s brow, until they soaked his eyes.

Finally, his mental defenses shattered completely.

“Don’t try to frighten me!”

With a shrill, hoarse scream, the monk’s arms bulged with muscle, and his massive Golden Body manifestation slammed violently into the black clouds before him.

He easily tore through the veil that had drenched him in sweat—and, astonishingly precise, his fists struck the exact location of the Dark Robe Dao Lord the moment they launched, aiming straight for the man’s skull.

Such a flawless strike filled the monk’s eyes with sudden, wide-eyed terror.

He had, against his will, forced this Grand Void True Lord into a life-or-death crisis.

Shhh—

Accompanied by a dull, resonant sword hum.

The white rainbow slashed out once more.

Shen Yi lowered his hand, silently watching the monk collapse before him.

Everyone stared at his barely victorious appearance, their expressions turning profoundly complex.

This duel seemed to be growing strange.

(End of Chapter)