Chapter 475: The Buddhist Sect's Reputation Swept Clean!

The scene of the saints' social death!

The image in the water mirror hasn't ended yet.

Sun Wukong looked at Rulai's face, swollen like a pig's head, pressed against the rubble, and a feeling of relief he had never felt before welled up inside him.

All the pent-up frustration of many years was finally vented cleanly.

But Bodhi gave no one a chance to catch their breath.

The old man's finger lightly turned in the air, and the scene in the water mirror changed like flowing water.

No longer Ling Shan.

It is the Hall of Lofty Heavens.

Upon the magnificent golden-and-cyan hall, the Jade Emperor sat on the dragon throne, before him kneeling a heavenly general clad in golden armor.

That heavenly general Sun Wukong knew was the superior of the Curtain-Rolling General and an old friend of Marshal Tianpeng.

Your Majesty, word comes from Xiniu Hezhou that the Rulai Buddha wishes to borrow a batch of demons to send down to the mortal realm, to serve as tribulations on the pilgrimage for scriptures.

The Jade Emperor stroked his beard, not rushing to speak.

Taibai Jinxing stood beside him, leaned in, and whispered a few words.

The water mirror projected Taibai Jinxing's voice clearly.

Your Majesty, this deal works. Send down a batch of demons; when mortals suffer, they naturally burn incense and pray for blessings, and our heavenly court's incense offerings will rise.

After the pilgrims pass, we'll collect those demons, and the merit will also count as ours—double gain, no loss.

The Jade Emperor's eyes lit up.

How many should we release?

Too few would be ineffective; too many would be a hassle to round up. Place one every three hundred li—just enough to keep the pilgrims occupied for over a decade.

And what about mortals? How do we count those eaten by demons?

Taibai Jinxing chuckled, his voice light and airy.

What's the death of a few mortals? They can just be reborn well in the next life. Besides, because they were eaten, other mortals will become more devout in worshipping the heavenly court. Fear is the best catalyst for incense.

The Jade Emperor slapped the armrest of the dragon throne.

Approved. Let those monsters who have committed offenses in heaven go down, so we don't waste food keeping them imprisoned in the heavenly jail.

The scene shifted.

In a small town of Southern Zhanbu Continent, a tiger spirit lurked in the mountains outside the city.

That tiger spirit wore the heavenly court's death-waiver gold medal around its neck.

It devoured a boy and girl every three days; the townsfolk wept and wailed, yet no one came to rescue them.

A Daoist set up an altar to perform rites to dispel evil, but the next day he was struck dead by heavenly thunder on the altar.

Another shift.

In a fishing village of Dongsheng Shenzhou, a flood dragon emerged from the sea, overturning thirty fishing boats.

The fishermen knelt on the shore, kowtowing until they bled.

An auspicious cloud drifted down from heaven; a sea-patrolling yaksha poked its head out to look, then withdrew.

The next day, a merit tablet appeared before the village's earth god shrine, inscribed with 'Heavenly Court's Blessing'.

But not a single person from those thirty boats returned.

Another shift.

In the rear hall of the Hall of Lofty Heavens, the Jade Emperor was settling accounts with the envoy of Rulai.

This month, 8,321 mortals died in the lower realm; per the agreement, heaven takes thirty percent of the incense.

The envoy presented a ledger with both hands: 'The Buddha said that after the pilgrimage is completed, the merit and fruit are split three-seven, heaven three, Buddhist sect seven.'

The Jade Emperor frowned: 'Four-six.'

The Buddha said three-seven is already a concession. That monkey is being managed by the Buddhist sect's efforts.

Fine, three-seven it is.

The Jade Emperor compromised straightforwardly.

The incense allotment earned from 8,321 human lives was, to him, no different from haggling at a vegetable market.

The water mirror's image stopped here.

The entire Three Realms fell silent for a moment.

Then it exploded.

The reaction in the mortal realm was far quicker than in the celestial realm.

The largest Daoist temple in Southern Zhanbu Continent, Zixiao Palace, had gathered over a thousand commoners at its main gate.

A wrinkled-faced old man led the front, clutching a bamboo pole in his hands.

My son! Three years ago a mountain sprite snatched him away! I've knelt here for three days and nights in this ruined temple begging the heavenly court to subdue demons! You told me the heavenly soldiers would come!

The heavenly soldiers didn't come! My son is dead!

So it was you who released the sprites?!

The bamboo pole smashed into the temple's main gate.

With a bang, the wood split into two pieces.

The crowd surged forward.

In a prosperous Heavenly Emperor temple of Dongsheng Shenzhou, the presiding Daoist tried to calm the furious worshippers.

A young woman grabbed the Daoist's collar and pulled him down from the steps.

My mother prayed for three years for her illness; you said the heavenly court had already bestowed blessings, telling us to wait! Do you know she died waiting?

Get lost, your mother's heavenly court!

The statue was toppled.

Thirty-six Golden Bodies of the Jade Emperor crashed down from the shrine, shattering into porcelain shards and wood splinters across the ground.

Bei Ju Lu Zhou, Xiniu Hezhou, and the Four Great Continents erupted simultaneously.

Tens of thousands of temples and Taoist halls were besieged by angry common folk.

The incense burner was kicked over.

The sutras were torn to pieces and thrown into the fire.

Fómén's Golden Body was shattered.

The Heavenly Court's memorial tablet was smashed.

Faith accumulated over ten million years collapsed before a water mirror.

On the battlefield.

The Jade Emperor's entire statue had its bones removed.

He lay collapsed in the ruins, lips trembling, eyes bulging wide.

Three seconds ago he was the ruler of the Three Realms, Emperor of Ten Thousand Immortals.

Three seconds later he was nothing.

Not even a common folk.

At least the common folk still have someone willing to believe him.

Now?

Who believes him?

That face, preserved for billions of years, was covered in wrinkles, as if time had kicked it into a coffin.

Vitality, spirit, and mind were scattered.

The imperial dignity was gone.

All that remained was an old man stripped of his clothes and thrown onto the street.

Sun Wukong looked at the Jade Emperor's state and sneered.

"He used to sit on the dragon throne and act all mighty."

"Now? He's not even a dog."

He jabbed the Iron Staff into the ground, shaking loose fragments of stone into the air.

"At least a dog guards the courtyard; you don't even deserve to guard it."

The Jade Emperor opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Tathagata was even worse.

He didn't even have the strength to lift his head.

After Bodhi's single word cut off Fómén's qi fortune, his Golden Body disintegrated at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Now, Faith backlashed, and his whole body was like being run over by a wheel three times, rotting beyond recognition.

Those Heavenly Soldiers, Heavenly Generals, and Arhats were even more unbearable to look at.

One by one, gray‑headed and dusty‑faced, they crouched in the ruins, daring not to speak.

Some quietly shoved their armor into the rubble, trying to hide.

Some ripped off their prayer beads and tossed them far away.

Some even began to push each other.

"It's all you! You said following the Buddha Patriarch would give us meat!"

"Your mother's fart, you dragged me into this gang!"

Uglier than a fight in a vegetable market.

Bodhi watched this scene.

The old man's mouth corner curved slightly, bearing a condescending mockery.

"This is the righteous path you pride yourselves on."

His voice echoed across the battlefield.

"This is the order, compassion, and salvation of all beings you preach."

No one dared to reply.

"To put it bluntly, it's no different from mountain bandits."

"The difference is you dress nicer and speak more flowery."

"At the core, you're equally rotten."

Sun Wukong could no longer hold back.

He looked to the heavens and laughed uproariously, the Iron Staff spinning three times in his hand.

"Hahaha!"

"Exhilarating!"

"I, Old Sun, have waited this day for countless years!"

He pointed the Iron Staff toward the heavens, sweeping over the gods huddled in the corners.

"Look at you all now!"

"One more cowardly than the next!"

"Where was the swagger when you chased me? Where was the courage when you flashed the demon‑revealing mirror at me?"

No one answered.

Not even a fart dared to be released.

Sun Wukong stopped smiling and took a deep breath.

It wasn't from fatigue.

It was a feeling of relief.

That sense of relief after being wronged, schemed against, and ganged up on by everyone, finally getting justice.

More satisfying than beating a hundred thousand heavenly soldiers.

This reckoning was not merely a physical crushing.

It was stripping away their last fig leaf.

From now on, whenever anyone mentions the Buddhist sect and heavenly court, the common folk's first reaction will not be reverence.

It will be contempt and scorn.

Bodhi flipped his hand, and the water mirror dissipated.

The projections throughout the Three Realms also faded out.

But the lingering tremor will not cease.

Those scenes will be passed on by word of mouth, handed down forever.

Until no one remembers what the Buddha Patriarch or the Heavenly Emperor is.

Bodhi had done all of this.

His shoulders relaxed slightly.

That overwhelming aura of crushing everything retracted, revealing the original appearance of the stooped, thin old man beneath.

He turned around, not looking at Sun Wukong.

His gaze swept across the battlefield, over the shattered land and floating debris.

It landed on the distant expanse of deathly silent ruins.

In the direction of Wanshen Fenchang.

There once stood a dreamlike city there.

In that city lived a girl who would risk her life to protect his Dao Heart.

Bodhi's gaze changed.

No longer mockery, no longer majesty.

It was a very faint, very faint gentleness.

With a hint of apology.

The old man spoke, his voice soft.

"Monkey."

Sun Wukong was laughing happily when he heard that voice and suddenly froze.

"That girl," Bodhi paused, "... still has hope."

Sun Wukong's iron staff slipped from his hand.

With a bang, it struck the rubble.

His whole body stiffened on the spot as if struck by lightning, and a mist of tears instantly welled up in his eye sockets.

"Master, what did you say?!"