Chapter 42: Please, Ancestor Ascend to Heaven

The club smashed down, and there was no crisp sound of bone cracking.

Only a whoosh.

It was like a mischievous child throwing a huge stone into a puddle.

Minghe Laozu's head, together with half his body, exploded into a spray of blood water that filled the sky.

The blood water did not fall to the ground; instead, it twisted and coalesced strangely in Mid-Air, and in the blink of an eye reassembled that grim, fierce old face.

"Useless."

Minghe stood on the Karmic Fire Red Lotus, his form flickering and unstable.

"In this nether blood sea, I am water, and water is spirit."

"Great Sage, no matter how mighty your strength, can you still drain this boundless blood sea?"

His tone carried a brazen, overconfident swagger.

Sun Wukong retracted the Golden Cudgel and slung it over his shoulder.

He tilted his head, watching Minghe as he pretended to be a deity.

He said nothing.

He merely extended his pinky and dug it into his ear.

Minghe, seeing the monkey refuse to be swayed, felt a pang of anxiety.

Although that club hadn't damaged the Primordial Source, the chaotic brute force that pierced his Original Spirit still made his head buzz.

A head‑on clash was certainly impossible.

This monkey has become a saint; his flesh is as hard as a chaotic stone, and the two swords of Yuan Tu A Ni might not be able to cut him.

Then attack the heart.

Minghe's seal mantra changed.

The once churning blood sea suddenly calmed.

A lingering, seductive sound, as if emerging from the cracks in bone, both silky and ticklish, drilled through the eardrum into the mind.

Pink mist rose on the sea's surface.

Within the mist, countless graceful figures flickered in and out of view.

They were Asura clan witches.

It was also Minghe's trump card—Great Freedom Heavenly Demon Dance.

"Great Sage~"

A coquettish wail that could make a person's bones feel soft.

The witches twisted their waists and surrounded him.

They wore barely any fabric; everything that should be shown or hidden was displayed boldly.

Their skin glowed white, creating an extremely stark visual clash with the red blood sea.

Some witches held goblets filled with scarlet fine wine.

Others bore instruments, gently plucking them.

More of them pressed directly against him, their supple arms like boneless snakes, trying to coil around Sun Wukong's neck.

A fragrant breeze assaulted the nose.

It was a scent mingling the smell of blood with an odd floral perfume, capable of arousing a creature's most primal desire.

Minghe sat on the Liántái, watching coldly.

This heavenly demon dance once nearly caused even the Bodhisattvas of the Fómén to break their precepts.

He didn't believe that the monkey, who had only leapt out of a stone crevice a few years ago, could stand up to such formations.

Kong Xuan stood behind, her face as black as a pot's bottom.

At this moment she was also female.

But the scene made her feel a physiological nausea.

"Shameless."

Kong Xuan cursed, and the Five‑Colored Divine Light behind her was about to burst forth.

"Hold on."

Sun Wukong suddenly raised his hand and blocked him.

Kong Xuan was startled, and then her cinnabar phoenix eyes seemed ready to spew fire.

"You still want to watch?"

"Are those claws of yours still trying to burrow into their bosoms?"

His tone was so sour it could make teeth fall out.

Sun Wukong ignored the flustered peacock.

He stood his ground, letting the witches circle around him.

In his golden‑bright eyes, two flames burned quietly.

Not a hint of fluctuation.

It was as if he were looking at a pile of rotten flesh.

Under Fiery Golden Eyes, where could any stunning beauty be?

All that were skulls smeared with shredded meat and crimson powder.

Those swaying waists were merely pale spines shaking; those seductive glances were just hollow eye sockets from which maggots crawled.

"Is this your trump card?"

Sun Wukong spoke.

The voice was flat, even a bit disappointed.

He looked at Ming He not far away.

"I still thought you could pull off some earth‑shattering divine feat."

"Summoning a bunch of rib spirits to perform grand rituals here?"

"Is the aesthetic of your Blood Sea still stuck in the primitive age without evolution?"

The words left his mouth.

The witches who were twisting vigorously froze in place.

Rib spirit?

They are recognized by the Three Realms as beauties!

Ming He's smile could no longer stay on his face.

Is this monkey truly blind or just playing dumb?

"Since the Great Sage doesn't like this vibe…"

Ming He was just about to change tactics.

"So filthy."

A cold snort came from beside.

Kong Xuan could no longer endure.

Seeing those witches recklessly reaching for Sun Wukong's chest armor, he felt his territory had been violated.

It felt like a clump of bird droppings landing on his meticulously cared‑for feather.

"A bunch of lowly maidens surviving on scraps, dare to touch him?"

Kong Xuan stepped forward.

Behind him, five divine lights of blue, yellow, red, white, and black surged skyward.

Not in a fan shape.

Instead they turned into five towering pillars that pierced heaven and earth, blasting the witches mercilessly.

No Cànjiào.

Because there was no time.

Under the five‑colored divine light, everything could be erased.

The witches still posing, along with their cups, instruments, and the few pitiful scraps of cloth on them, instantly turned into the tiniest dust.

Not even a trace of blood essence remained.

Erased outright.

Sun Wukong's surroundings cleared instantly.

Only dust drifted across the sky.

"You're far too short‑tempered."

Sun Wukong brushed the dust off his cloak and looked at Kong Xuan with a somewhat amused expression.

"I haven't had enough yet."

Kong Xuan gave him a sideways glance.

His chin lifted in a tsundere arc.

"It dirtied my eyes; I'll have to wash them when we go back."

"If you like looking at skeletons, I'll go to the White Bone Cave later and fetch you hundreds, so you can have your fill."

Sun Wukong grinned broadly.

This peacock's mind is smaller than a needle's tip.

After dealing with the flies, Sun Wukong turned his gaze back to Ming He.

"Old thing."

"Those low‑tier tricks earlier were just appetizers."

"Now it's time for the main course, right?"

Sun Wukong took two steps forward.

His feet stepped on the void, each step sending golden ripples.

"I heard you have 480 million blood divine sons?"

"As long as the Blood Sea doesn't act, you can't die?"

Ming He felt a sudden thump in his heart.

Those words sounded… oddly familiar.

But he still forced a cold sneer.

"Not bad."

"The Blood Sea never dries, Ming He never dies."

"This is the Heavenly Dao granting my Asura clan its destiny."

"Although the Great Sage has become a saint, to kill me you would need the ability to… the boundless Blood Sea…"

He didn't finish the sentence.

Sun Wukong snapped his fingers.

"Snap."

The crisp sound rang especially harsh over the Deathly Silence of the Blood Sea.

"What a coincidence."

"I have no other virtues; I just enjoy helping others."

"Your blood sea is too damp; you're prone to rheumatism."

"I'll give you all the warmth."

The words fell.

Sun Wukong opened his mouth.

He did not chant any incantation.

He did not perform any finger lock.

It was only a ball of golden flame, spewing out from deep within his throat.

The flame was not large.

It was only the size of a fist.

Its color was not that crimson red, but pure gold.

The gold was dazzling.

The gold was sacred.

Solar true fire.

This was the original divine skill of the two Heavenly Emperors of the demon clan's Heaven—Di Jun and Taiyi.

The companion divine fire of the Three-legged Golden Crow.

Since the Lich War, this fire seed has become extinct in the Three Realms.

But no one knew that Sun Wukong refined for forty‑nine days in that Bāguà Lú, not only forging Fiery Golden Eyes, but also being secretly given a strand of the Primordial Source of the Chaos Realm Golden Crow by Bodhi.

This fire is utmost yang and utmost firmness.

It specifically suppresses all yin, evil, and filth in the world.

"Go."

Sun Wukong gently exhaled.

The fist‑sized golden flame wobbled and drifted down.

It landed on the scarlet surface of the blood sea.

It was like a drop of scalding oil falling into a red‑hot iron pot.

"Sss—!!!"

A burst of sound that made the scalp tingle.

That speck of golden light, the moment it touched the sea surface, explosively burst apart.

It was not an explosion.

It was diffusion.

The golden flame spread wildly along the blood water, moving so fast that even divine thought could not keep up.

In the blink of an eye.

The blood sea spanning tens of thousands of miles was ignited.

This was not ordinary combustion.

It was evaporation.

It was purification.

The terrifying high temperature instantly warped the space.

The originally cold, damp Underworld's temperature rose sharply.

One hundred degrees.

One thousand degrees.

Ten thousand degrees.

……

"Ah!!!!"

A mournful Cànjiào rang from every corner of the blood sea.

It was not a single voice.

It was the overlap of millions upon billions of voices.

The 480‑million Blood Divine Sons that the Underworld River boasts of are hidden in every drop of this blood.

Now.

The water boiled.

The blood sea turned into a hot pot.

Countless twisted human faces surfaced on the sea, opening their mouths in wails, then were devoured by the golden flame, turning into wisps of blue smoke.

The waterline receded at a visibly rapid pace.

Those blood divine sons, forged countless times, were as fragile before the Solar true fire as snow under sunlight.

"What kind of fire is this?!"

The Underworld River was utterly panicked.

He felt his Línghún being scorched.

Each droplet's evaporation felt like it was gouging his flesh and pulling his tendons.

The karmic fire red lotus desperately emitted red light, trying to block that terrifying heat.

But it was useless.

This fire carries the law of the Great Dao.

That is the extreme of Yang.

Specifically to suppress this extreme of Yin.

"Stop! Stop quickly!"

Ming He leapt from the Liántái, no longer showing any trace of the lofty demeanor he once had.

His hair was disheveled, and the flesh on his face began to crack and flake off from the intense heat.

"My Sea of Blood! My foundation!"

This fire burns not water, but his Xiūwéi accumulated over billions of years!

Sun Wukong hung in midair, arms crossed over his chest.

Golden flames reflected on his face, coating him with a divine radiance.

"Stop shouting."

"Isn't this rather warm?"

"It'll nicely clean out the filthy bugs in your gutter, and count as an environmental effort for the Underworld."

Kong Xuan stood nearby, watching the boiling sea of fire below.

She felt a little unsettled.

This monkey's control over fire has reached this level?

Within this true sun fire, there seemed to be a trace... of Chaos Realm aura?

"Damn! Damn Bimawen!"

Ming He watched as the Sea of Blood had dried up halfway.

The once bottomless ocean now exposed its pitch‑black seabed.

Countless white bones and shattered weapons emerged.

If it kept burning, he would truly become the Light‑Rod Commander.

Since you intend to cut off my path.

Then Old Patriarch, I will also pull you down!

A flash of madness flickered in Ming He's eyes.

He grasped at empty air with both hands.

Two chilling sword lights shot upward.

One was a grim white, the other jet black.

Yuan Tu.

A Bi.

These two co‑born spirit treasures have been steeped in the Sea of Blood since their creation, and it's unknown how much Living Beings' fresh blood they have drunk.

Killing without touching karma.

Where the blade points, all things meet Silent Extinction.

"Die for me!!"

Ming He spat a mouthful of pure blood onto the twin swords.

The two swords emitted a yearning hum, bearing a killing aura that could cleave heaven and earth, transforming into two snarling poisonous dragons that lunged at Sun Wukong's throat.

This was Ming He's final desperate strike.

It gathered all the Xiūwéi he had left.

A resentful sword from the peak of Quasi‑Saint.

Space was sliced open.

Even the surrounding true sun fire was pushed back a few degrees by this sharp sword qi.

Sun Wukong still did not move.

He didn't even pick up the Golden Cudgel.

He watched the two rapidly approaching sword lights, his golden pupils narrowing slightly.

A cruel curve tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Playing with weapons?"

"You dare speak?"

He raised his right hand.

His index and middle fingers pressed together.

Without any flamboyant motion, he simply pinched those two innate killing treasures straight away.

Freeze.

Time seemed to stand still at that moment.

The two divine swords, originally raging as if they could slay stars.

Now.

Were like two chopsticks seized by a mischievous child.

They steadied themselves between Sun Wukong's two fingers.

The blade bodies still trembled wildly, emitting a shrill wail, trying to break free from the two fingers' grip.

But those two fingers were like iron tongs forged from Chaos Realm divine metal.

They did not budge a hair.

Sun Wukong looked through the blade at the now stunned Ming He opposite him.

"This sword is not bad."

Just in time to take it back and slice fruit for my Mount Huaguo little monkeys.

Snap!

Fingertips pressed hard.

On the blades of the two innate spiritual treasure swords, a fine crack unexpectedly opened.

Ming River Elder Ancestor Zhang opened his mouth wide.

A mouthful of old blood burst out, spewing directly.

That was... from being scared.