Chapter 15: Ling Mountain Trampling Incident

The gold bricks of Da Lei Yin Si are cold.

But at this moment, it cannot compare to the chill in the hearts of all Buddhas.

With each step Sun Wukong took forward, the oppressive feeling, like a divine mountain collapsing, grew heavier by a fraction.

This is not magical power pressure.

This is the most primal bodily intimidation.

Every hair on his body was like a steel needle soaked in Chaos Realm, emitting a fierce light that sought to devour people.

"Make way."

Sun Wukong didn't even lift his eyelids, spitting out two words.

The eighteen arhats blocking the way were normally immensely majestic, their prowess in subduing dragons and tigers taken for granted.

At this moment?

The Subduing Dragon Arhat's calves cramped, and he could not hold onto the Great Golden Bowl in his hand—it clanged to the ground.

That sound was like a starting gun.

The originally neat formation of the arhats fell into disorder.

The Taming Tiger Arhat tried to retreat, but his foot stepped on the Long-eyebrow Arhat's Sēngpáo.

The Long-eyebrow Arhat was about to cover his trembling eyebrows when this yank made him lose his balance, his large face plunging downward as he slammed hard onto the Happy Buddha's back.

"Ouch."

"Oh no."

"Don't squeeze me."

Usually solemn and dignified, Da Lei Yin Si now resembled a bustling market during rush‑hour subway crowds.

Those lofty bodhisattvas and arhats shoved and jostled, their monk's caps askew, their kasaya robes in disarray.

All sorts of ugly sights appeared.

Sun Wukong stopped his steps.

He looked at this crowd that constantly mouthed "all is empty" in daily life, and the corner of his lips curled with mockery.

"So this is when immortals fear death."

"They're no different from the ants of the mortal world."

"Whoosh!"

A streak of azure light shot out from a gap in the chaotic crowd without any warning.

Fast.

Accurate.

Fierce.

It headed straight for the back of Sun Wukong's mind.

That was the Calming Wind Pearl.

An Innate Spiritual Treasure, it specializes in shattering protective gang qi and sealing people's Divine Soul.

The one who made the move was Lingji Bodhisattva.

This bodhisattva usually smiles benignly, but when he strikes he is more ruthless than anyone.

He hid at the rear of the crowd, pinching a hand seal, a flash of ruthlessness crossing his eyes.

If he could immobilize this demon monkey for just an instant, the Buddhas swarming up might still have a chance!

The pearl has arrived.

It was only three cun from Sun Wukong's Back of Head.

Sun Wukong did not turn back.

He didn't even stop his steps.

He merely glanced sideways slightly, his eyes burning with stellar flames, casting a brief look backward.

Just one glance.

Merely a single glance.

"Crack."

That bead, said to be able to still the Triple‑Flame Divine Wind, froze abruptly in Mid‑Air.

Immediately after,

As if it could not bear the weight of that gaze.

"Boom!"

It exploded into a cloud of blue powder.

"Pfft—!"

Lingji Bodhisattva was as if struck by lightning.

His life‑bound magic treasure shattered; linked in mind and spirit, he spat a jet of blood three chi high.

His face turned ashen as gold paper, his whole body going limp on the ground, as if his spine had been sucked out.

"Trash."

Sun Wukong withdrew his gaze and continued forward.

Nobody dared to make a move anymore.

Even a Quasi‑Saint early‑stage great ability like Lingji Bodhisattva was rendered useless by a single glare—who would still dare to rush forward to die?

The crowd automatically parted a path.

Like Moses parting the sea.

At the end of the road, two people stood.

Manjushri.

Samantabhadra.

Their status in the Fómén is second only to Guanyin.

At this moment, they have nowhere to retreat.

Because behind them is the Tathagata's Liántái.

Manjushri Bodhisattva forces himself to stay calm, and the Wisdom Sword in his hand trembles slightly.

"Po… Sun Wukong."

Manjushri swallowed saliva and tried to assume the bodhisattva's bearing.

"Lay down the butcher's knife, become instantly…"

Snap.

A furry hand rested on Manjushri's shoulder.

Interrupting his spellcasting channel.

"Manjushri."

Sun Wukong brought his face close.

The distance between them was extremely close.

So close that Manjushri could smell the strong, wild aura on Sun Wukong, mingled with a bloody scent.

"I, old Sun, recall, back then at Lion Camel Ridge."

"That Black Chicken Kingdom's king was pushed into a well by your mount, the Azure Lion Spirit, and soaked for a full three years."

Sun Wukong's voice was soft, as if chatting casually.

"What did you say back then?"

Manjushri broke out in cold sweat, his lips trembling, daring not to speak.

"You speak."

Sun Wukong helped him recall.

"One drink, one bite, could it be predestined."

"It was said that the king had previously immersed one of your incarnations in water for three days."

"So you made him soak for three years, repaying that karma."

Manjushri began to swing his legs.

"It's… it's Heaven's count…"

"To your damn Heaven!"

Sun Wukong roared loudly.

The hand that was on Manjushri's shoulder swung round violently.

Hoo—

The palm hadn't arrived, yet the palm wind already deformed the flesh on Manjushri's face.

Snap!!

This crisp sound was louder than the earlier Wind‑Stabilizing Pearl explosion.

The echo walls of Da Lei Yin Si were all shaking.

Manjushri Bodhisattva.

This great bodhisattva, famed as the number one in wisdom.

Was like a top that had been ripped away.

Golden Body lifted off the ground, rotating in the air for three full circles.

The rotation speed was extremely fast.

It even left afterimages.

Boom.

Manjushri crashed heavily to the ground, half his face swelling high, turning a blackish purple.

He spat out a dozen or so Bloodshot teeth.

Wisdom?

In the face of absolute power, that is a joke.

"Sun Wukong! You are too reckless!"

The Samantabhadra Bodhisattva beside him could no longer watch.

Or the Fear Heart Demon of losing one's lips and teeth forced him to act.

He dared not use the Wu Hook Sword in his hand, only raised his foot, gathered all his Buddhist power, and kicked toward Sun Wukong's belly.

"Get out of my way!"

This kick had the power to split mountains and crack stones.

Sun Wukong did not dodge.

He even puffed out his belly.

Allowing Samantabhadra's kick to strike him.

Dong.

As if kicking a ten‑thousand‑year ancient black iron.

Samantabhadra felt his ankle about to shatter.

The recoil force surged straight up the leg bone to the heavenly spirit cover.

"You also want to dance?"

Sun Wukong grinned.

His right leg shot out like lightning.

He struck first despite attacking later.

He kicked hard at Puxian's lower abdomen.

Pfft—

Puxian Bodhisattva's eyes bulged.

His whole body curled up like a big shrimp.

The vegetarian rice from yesterday, the jade nectar from the day before, and the bitter gall juice.

It all spewed out at once.

Yellow, white, green.

It splattered all over the ground.

A sour stench permeated the air.

"Ugh..."

Puxian knelt on the ground, hands covering his stomach, lacking even the strength to let out a miserable cry, only dry heaves left.

Sun Wukong patted his boots.

As if he had kicked something dirty.

"Is that all?"

He looked around.

Wherever his gaze fell, the Buddhas lowered their heads, and the Bodhisattvas trembled.

These are the gods and buddhas who usually sit high above, enjoying the human offerings of incense.

When they really started fighting.

They were nothing more than a bunch of chickens and ducks awaiting slaughter.

"Good!"

"Well fought!"

From a corner of the hall came a cheer.

The crowd followed the sound and looked over.

All they saw was the Bodhi Patriarch conjuring a redwood teacher's chair from nowhere, sitting there imposingly with a golden knife.

Before him also stood a tea table.

Steam rose from the spout of the teapot.

And beside Bodhi.

Zhunti Saint stood there with a constipated expression.

This saint really wanted to speak at this moment.

After all, those who were beaten were his disciples and descendants, the foundation of the Western Teaching.

"Teacher, this..."

Zhunti had just opened his mouth.

The Bodhi Patriarch raised his eyelids.

A cup of tea appeared in his hand.

The tea water boiled, brewed with the Samadhi true fire, and on top rolled bubbles like molten magma.

"Thirsty?"

Bodhi brought the tea cup to Zhunti's lips.

"Drink tea."

"Don't speak."

Zhunti looked at the steaming "tea", his Adam's apple bobbed.

Is this tea?

This is clearly a punishment.

But this cup was handed over by the teacher.

He dared not refuse it.

Zhunti took the tea cup with trembling hands.

"Th-thank... thank you, Teacher, for bestowing the tea."

He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes.

He tilted his head back and gulped it down.

Sizzle—

A sound of roasting meat.

Zhunti Saint's lips instantly blistered with several large blisters.

It felt like a fire dragon was drilling through his esophagus.

But he dared not vomit.

He could only force it down, and had to force out a smile uglier than crying.

"Good... good tea."

Jieyin stood at the side, watching, and lowered his head even more.

He feared the teacher would also ask him to have a drink.

Sun Wukong paid no attention to the master-disciple interaction here.

He continued walking forward.

The final step.

He stepped over Puxian's vomit.

He stepped over Wenshu's fallen tooth.

He stood before the massive nine-grade Liántái.

Rulai Buddha remained seated upon it.

His body was huge, with golden light swirling around.

Sun Wukong leapt.

He jumped directly onto the Liántái.

He stood before the Tathagata.

Two faces.

One face shone with golden light, big-headed and big-eared, yet could not hide the panic in its eyes.

One face had a thunder god's beak, pointed mouth and monkey cheeks, yet burned with the fire of vengeance.

The distance was less than one meter.

Nose tip to nose tip.

Breath could be heard.

Sun Wukong could even see the fine hairs on the cinnabar mole on the Tathagata's brow.

"Fatty."

Sun Wukong spoke.

His voice was not loud.

But it sounded like the whisper of a death god.

"Look."

"I am now this close to you."

"Your Buddha kingdom in your palm…"

"Is it still effective?"

The Tathagata's facial skin twitched minutely.

That was a humiliation unprecedented since countless Yuan Assemblies.

The absurd feeling of ants crawling over his golden body and trampling it at will,

made not only him, but even the Dao hearts of the myriad gods and buddhas in the heavens tremble.

But he was after all the reincarnation of the Duobao Daoist, the ancestor of all buddhas who presides over the central samsara world.

Even now, he still tried to maintain that tottering dignity.

"Demon monkey."

The Tathagata's voice was vast, like thunder rolling down from the horizon,

attempting to use this accustomed might to suppress that restless heart.

"Even if you forge a demonic body with heretical methods, this place remains the pure land of the Buddhist gate."

"Turning back is shore."

"If you now kneel and dispel your demonic power, I, considering the benevolence of the Upper Heaven, perhaps…"

This set of words is too smooth.

For tens of thousands of years, this set of rhetoric has been like a mantra carved into his bones.

Together with the slowly turning merit-golden wheel behind his head that illuminates billions of miles,

enough to make ninety-nine percent of the world's great demonic leaders' knees go weak, weeping and wailing as they take refuge.

Unfortunately.

The one standing before him was no longer the Sun Xingzhe who anxiously pursued the so‑called 'positive result'.

but one who had died once, whose innocence and fantasies had been burned away in the chaotic blaze—the Great Sage Equal to Heaven.

Sun Wukong was too lazy to even speak.

In response to all that heavenly Buddhist reasoning, there was only a sound of extreme contempt.

"Pah!"

A mouthful of thick phlegm.

carrying some indescribable filth and contempt, it traced an arc.

Pat.

This soft sound, in the vast Da Lei Yin Si, was actually sharper than the earlier thunderclap.

That mouthful of phlegm hit squarely, smearing the Tathagata's solemn, compassionate face.

It hung from the nose bridge, slowly sliding down.

Deathly silence.

All of Ling Shan fell still, even the wind ceased.

The Zhunti Saint, who was sipping tea and watching the show, had his hand holding the cup frozen in mid‑air,

The scorching magma tea overflowed the cup's rim, splashing onto his Saint arm, sizzing, yet he seemed oblivious.

That is the Tathagata.

He is the supreme authority openly in the Three Realms.

Spat on the face by a monkey?

The Tathagata was stunned.

He instinctively raised his hand and touched the wet, warm slime on his face.

That genuine sensation instantly ignited his anger accumulated for five hundred years, burning away the last shackles in his mind called "reason".

Wretched beast—!!!

No longer any Buddha Patriarch grace.

No longer any illusion of compassion.

That golden face twisted into a demonic, snarling visage, with only naked murderous intent roaring.

Boom!

The Tathagata's intact right hand boldly rose.

In the palm, the swastika seal representing the Fómén's supreme demon‑subduing power spun wildly, and golden light erupted like a tsunami.

The Tathagata's divine palm.

It is stronger, more overbearing, and more domineering than the palm from five hundred years ago.

Golden light flooded the sight; this palm left no room for mercy, disregarding consequences, even indifferent to whether it would shatter the ten‑thousand‑year‑old Da Lei Yin Si.

He only wants this monkey dead!

Turn to ash! Turn to slag! Vanish completely!

Now—!!!

The muffled impact sound caused the eardrums of all the arhats and bodhisattvas present to burst instantly, and golden blood flowed from their ear holes.

A terrifying shockwave swept in all directions, turning the lotus petals surrounding the Ninth‑rank Liántái into dust.

Dust and smoke rose.

Did it hit?

This is a face‑to‑face strike, the full force of a Quasi‑Saint at his peak, full of resentment! Even the Bāguà Lú of the Supreme Laozi would be flattened by a third, wouldn't it?

The dust has not yet cleared.

A slender figure emerged in the golden afterglow.

Tall and upright like a spear.

Not a hair moved.

Sun Wukong lowered his head, his gaze falling on the huge palm imprinted on his chest.

Then, he lifted his head.

Those eyes, burning with Chaos Realm golden flames, met the Tathagata's eyes filled with shock and terror.

Sun Wukong raised his hand and lightly patted his chest.

As if brushing dust off his clothes.

"Haven't eaten?"

The voice was soft, yet each word cut like a knife.

"Is this what they call boundless Buddha law? Such feeble strength, for you bastards to embroider?"

The golden glint in the Tathagata's eyes exploded instantly.

How could that be?

Is this the body of the Chaotic Demon God?

Its constitution dares to withstand even the axe light of Pangu's creation of heaven and earth; the Buddha Patriarch's palm techniques, cultivated through later incense fire, amount to nothing!

"It's my turn."

Sun Wukong's mouth curled into a cruel smile.

He did not wield the Golden Cudgel.

Instead, he extended his left hand and, seemingly casually, grasped the Tathagata's palm still attached to his chest.

To be precise.

He pinched that index finger.

"That finger just now, pointing at rivers and mountains, deciding life and death, quite imposing, huh?"

He curled his five fingers.

Terrifying Chaos Realm might erupted at his fingertips.

Like two Tai Gu Shen Shan being squeezed with great force.

Creak.

A tooth‑aching sound of bone cracking rang out, and the Tathagata's complexion instantly shifted from gold to white.

He desperately tried to withdraw his hand, but found the monkey's palm was like iron tongs forged dead in the void.

Not a hair moved.

"Sever!"

Sun Wukong spat out a cold word.

His wrist slammed down hard.

Snap!

Crisp and pleasant.

That index finger, usually used to pluck a flower with a smile and receive worship from billions of believers,

It snapped rigidly, forming a bizarre right angle.

The stark white bone splinters pierced the golden flesh, nakedly exposed to the air.

"Roar—!!"

A howl unlike any human voice erupted from the Tathagata's throat.

It wasn't a plea for mercy.

It was the beast's roar of pain to the extreme.

All ten fingers connected to his heart; the excruciating pain from deep within his Línghún made his massive body arch instantly.

"Can't stand it any longer?"

"Is this the limit?"

Sun Wukong released his broken finger, his eyes showing no mercy.

He swung backhand.

He tore the blood‑stained Tiěbàng from his ear.

There were no flamboyant divine arts, no sky‑filled phenomena.

Only the purest force.

The purest violence.

Sweeping a thousand armies!

Woo—

The heavy Tiěbàng tore through space, dragging a black Chaotic Gale Wind, and slammed hard onto the Tathagata's lower back.

That was the dantian's Qi sea.

It was the most vulnerable point of the Golden Body.

Bang!

A muffled thud, like a heavy hammer crushing a rotten watermelon.

The Tathagata's massive body was yanked off the ground, smashing the seven‑treasure screen behind him and toppling the indestructible rear wall of Da Lei Yin Si.

Finally.

It slammed violently into the ruins of a side hall.

Rumble—

Broken stones tumbled down, smoke and dust filled the sky.

Sun Wukong hoisted the staff, stepping over the litter of broken tiles and rubble, walking forward step by step.

With each step, the entire Ling Shan trembled.

Amid the ruins.

The Tathagata struggled to rise.

But his proud Six-zhang Golden Body now resembled a delicate porcelain shattered by a heavy blow.

It was covered with countless fine cracks.

Click.

Snap.

As he moved, patches of golden "skin" began to peel off.

They fell to the ground, turning into soulless golden powder.

Beneath the peeled golden lacquer,

what was exposed was not a pristine crystal body at all.

but a mortal flesh coursing with black pus‑blood, exuding a rotting odor.

The blood was black and gleaming, viscous like oil.

It emitted a nauseating, decaying stench named "Greed" and "Hypocrisy".

This is the true nature of Fómén.

Gold and jade on the outside, rot within!

Sun Wukong approached the ruins, looking down from above at the ugly figure writhing among the broken stones.

He lifted his foot.

He stomped heavily on the Tathagata's chest, riddled with cracks and seeping black blood.

Applying slight pressure.

Puff.

The Tathagata opened his mouth, spitting out a gush of black filthy blood.

His gaze began to scatter.

It was pain.

Even more, it was terror.

Because in his sight, the Golden Cudgel, stained with countless demon blood and heavy enough to crush the heavens,

was slowly being raised.

Its cold metallic touch aimed at his crown chakra.

Sun Wukong bent over.

Leaning close to the Tathagata's ear.

Looking at this face once untouchable, now utterly twisted by pain and fear.

His voice was light and gentle.

Yet it is more bone‑piercing than the cold wind of the Nine Nether Hell.

"What?"

"So…"

"You also know pain?"