Chapter 494: A Broken Straw Sandal

The old man gripped the black heart, the madness on his face not yet faded.

Sun Wukong's iron staff tip still pointed at his nose.

The two faced off for less than three breaths.

The old man's expression changed.

The madness subsided, replaced by an extreme swift calm.

He shoved that heart back into his chest, a black-scaled-like thing flashing between his palm and chest.

Then his gaze swept over the area behind Sun Wukong that had been purified into clear water,

swept over the saplings just sprouting beneath his feet, swept over the gold-green light intertwined on the iron staff.

He was calculating.

Sun Wukong saw it.

This old thing was calculating whether he could beat him.

He finished calculating.

The answer was——he didn't want to fight.

The old man's hand suddenly rose, fingers interlaced, and he began to form seals at extreme speed.

A sound of tearing cloth rang out in the void.

A crack split open in the darkness behind him.

Inside that crack there was no light, no stars, nothing at all.

It was an escape passage to other dimensions.

"You want to run?"

Sun Wukong narrowed his eyes.

The old man didn't look at him, his hand movements grew faster and faster, and the gap grew larger.

Even on that corpse-like face appeared a hint of urgency.

An ancient monster who had lived for who knows how many hundred thousand years, before him——was panicking.

Sun Wukong lifted his iron staff and was about to chase.

But just as he took a step, he saw something.

Flying from an extremely distant place.

Its speed wasn't fast, but its trajectory was absurdly steady.

A straw sandal.

Worn out.

The sole was worn almost through, the upper still had mud on it, and a broken lace tied with grass rope.

It came from the direction of Fangcun Mountain.

Sun Wukong recognized this sandal.

He had lived ten years on Fangcun Mountain, often seeing his master wear this pair of ragged things when going out to sweep the courtyard.

The straw sandal traced a straight arc in the void, ignoring all darkness, negation, laws, and rules.

Because it is just a straw sandal.

It has no power.

It is not bolstered by any law.

Merely a straw sandal someone threw out, worn out.

The "Negation" law can negate divine abilities, negate the Great Dao, negate existence.

But it cannot negate a straw sandal.

Because a straw sandal does not need to be acknowledged by "existence," and it is not any kind of "power."

It is just a piece of junk.

What do you use to negate it?

Smack.

The straw sandal struck squarely on the old man's back of the head.

Mud from the sole smeared his whole head of white hair.

The old man's body lurched forward, his steps staggered twice, and his interlaced fingers were pulled apart by that blow.

The seal formation was interrupted.

The spatial rift behind him, after losing guidance, shuddered violently and snapped shut with a pop.

The escape route was gone.

Sun Wukong watched this scene, stunned for two full breaths.

Then he reacted.

He slapped his thigh.

"Hahahaha!"

He laughed so hard his waist bent, his iron staff planted on the ground as a cane, tears almost coming out.

Master threw this straw sandal——so damn accurate!

From hundreds of millions of li away, precisely hit the back of the head!

A worn-out straw sandal broke a Saint Level seal formation!

The number one hidden weapon under heaven!

It's this straw sandal that's been stepped on for who knows how many years, stinking!

The old man stood there, his head covered in mud, the expression on his face vivid to the extreme.

Shock, fury, humiliation, disbelief—various emotions took turns playing out on his face, which had never 'lived' before.

Finally, it settled on a hatred twisted and deformed.

He was hit by a shoe.

A broken straw sandal.

At the critical moment when he was preparing to flee for his life.

"Bodhi——!"

His voice carried a hatred filled with gritted teeth.

Answering him was a lazy voice, coming from the direction of Fangcun Mountain, who knows how many hundreds of millions of li away, slow and leisurely, carrying the irritation of an old man's nap being disturbed.

"What are you running for?"

Bodhi's voice wasn't loud, like chatting about everyday matters.

"Back then I chased you through thirty-six layers of Chaos Realm, and you never escaped. Now you limp on one leg and still want to slip away?"

The old man's face grew even uglier.

"Funny, the older you get, the thicker your skin—when you can't beat the younger generation you run; what about your face?"

His voice paused, then he added another sentence.

"Forget it, you never had any face to begin with."

Sun Wukong laughed even louder.

Master's mouth is more poisonous than his iron staff!

The old man's chest heaved violently.

He suddenly turned around, intending to form seals again.

But as soon as he raised his hand, the entire void changed.

Golden light.

Golden light surged from all directions.

It was not the violent light of an attack, but a quiet, heavy sealing power.

Golden patterns lit up in the darkness, spreading ring by ring, as if someone had drawn a huge prison in the void.

Each golden pattern carried the Dao Rhythm of the Bodhi Patriarch.

Familiar.

Old and worn.

Carrying the scent of pine smoke and cold tea.

The golden light closed in, forming a seal three hundred zhang around the old man.

A spherical prison.

The old man pressed his hand against the golden light wall, black smoke rising from his palm.

It would not burn through.

He switched hands and unleashed a strike of the Power of Negation.

Ineffective.

The patterns on the golden light wall were not composed of any 'law' or 'power'.

It is the very Dao Rhythm of Bodhi.

What is Bodhi's Dao Rhythm?

It is 'No Regret'.

You can negate 'regret,' but how do you negate 'no regret'?

You negate an old man who waited for his disciple for hundreds of millions of years without regret?

Cannot be negated.

Because it is not a law, not energy, not a concept.

That is an old man's intention.

The old man turned around.

On the back of his head still clung mud from the straw sandal's sole, his white hair disheveled and draped over his shoulder.

In those dead‑person eyes burned a wicked fire.

His lips pressed into a thin line.

His teeth clenched, making a creaking sound.

The surrounding space was sealed by golden light, with the Bodhi Dao Rhythm light walls on all six sides—up, down, left, right, front, and back.

No way to escape.

He became a turtle in a jar.

"Bodhi! What are you anyway?!"

He bellowed, "I am your senior brother! Dare you use a trapping formation on me?!"

The direction of Fangcun Mountain gave no reply.

Bodhi ignored him.

Serves him right.

After his rant, with no one listening, the old man's gaze fell back onto Sun Wukong.

Sun Wukong was still laughing.

He gradually stopped laughing, wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, pulled the iron staff from the ground, and hoisted it onto his shoulder.

Then he rubbed his right fist.

His knuckles cracked.

He rubbed his left fist.

It sounded even crisper.

He walked toward the old man.

Step by step.

The black seawater under his feet automatically turned into clear currents as he passed.

He walked not fast, but each step he took carried a steady, unhurried resolve.

It was like on the way home, stopping by to beat up a neighbor who deserved it.

"You say I'm an experiment?"

He took another step.

"You say my Master is an idiot?"

He took another step.

"You still want to run?"

He stopped.

Ten zhang away from the old man.

The Iron Staff was lowered from his shoulder, its butt dragging on the ground, carving a shallow trace in the clear water.

"You can't escape."

His voice was very flat.

"Your junior brother drew a circle for you, stronger than the one the Buddha Patriarch drew for me back then."

"Today's beating—"

"You can't dodge it."

The old man stared at him.

The Fear Heart Demon in his eyes was being replaced bit by bit by something else.

It was ferocity.

It was the kind of ferocity a beast backed into a corner would have, reckless and relentless.

The old man's both hands moved at once.

It wasn't forming a seal.

He grabbed the collar of his own black robe.

He pulled hard.

Rip.

The black robe tore in half down the middle, and he flung it behind him.

The body beneath the robe was revealed.

Sun Wukong's pupils contracted slightly.

That was not a human body.

From the neck down, every inch of skin was covered with fist-sized scales.

Black scales.

But not the dead armor of an ordinary flood dragon or savage beast.

Each scale housed a face.

Twisted, anguished, silently screaming human faces.

Male and female, old and young, every face bore the expression of ultimate despair.

Those faces writhed beneath the scales.

Alive.

All of them alive.

The old man spread his arms, and his black scales gleamed with an oily dark sheen in the light of the golden prison.

He drew a deep breath.

The black heart he had shoved back into his chest began to beat wildly.

With each beat, the scales on his body lit up.

When they lit, those faces opened their mouths in silent screams.

His power surged rapidly.

The void trembled.

Fine ripples began to appear on the Light Wall of the golden prison.

"Since you can't run."

The old man's voice changed.

No longer the previous careless arrogance.

It was a low growl ground out from deep within his chest.

Hoarse.

Rich.

Carrying the killing intent accumulated over hundreds of millions of years.

"Then let you witness—"

"Your stupid master, why back then did he only dare to seal me, and not dare to kill me?"

"His eyes—the pair of dead people's eyes that never had any warmth—lit up."

"The lit-up color was pure black, without a trace of impurity."

"That black reminded Sun Wukong of something."

"That sea just now."

"That expanse of black sea that could make 'existence' lose its meaning."

"Now the same black is concentrated in a pair of eyes."

"Sun Wukong stopped."

"He did not retreat."

"The Iron Staff was gripped in his hand, and the gold-and-green interwoven light on its shaft shone again."

"He looked at the ancient monster opposite him, whose seal had been undone and whose true form was revealed."

"He smiled."

"His smile contained no mockery."

"It was the pure excitement that only comes when one finally meets a worthy opponent."

"\"Come. \""