Chapter 506

Bodhi's thunderous means!

Sun Wukong hadn't even gotten a chance to act when the heavens split.

It wasn't just a single crack.

There were hundreds of them.

The entire firmament resembled a crushed eggshell, riddled with cracks, golden light streaming through the fissures, so bright it made people unable to open their eyes.

Then people began to fall.

One after another.

Falling down from the heavens.

Like dumplings being dropped.

The first one smashed down three zhang ahead of Wukong's left front, a pitch-black old monster with four arms, landing spread-eagle, its teeth spraying everywhere.

The second followed close behind, a figure clad in shell armor, soaked through, reeking of the deep sea, clearly dragged up from the seabed.

The third, fourth, fifth, and so on...

Crackling continuously, one after another.

Some were coated in black crust from cooled magma, having been dragged up from the earth's core.

Some were covered in ice shards, their lips purple from the cold, having been dug up from beneath the North Sea Ice Plain.

Some still had gray slime from the void cracks on them, like rats just fished out of a sewer.

One after another.

Ten, twenty, fifty, and so on...

They kept falling until over three hundred had landed.

Across the ruined star field, the ground was littered haphazardly with old gods.

Some were dazed, still shaking their heads there.

The smarter ones, upon hitting the ground, immediately flung themselves down, pressing their faces to the rocky soil, daring not to breathe.

Sun Wukong watched this scene, his iron staff almost slipping from his grasp.

What the hell kind of efficiency is this?

He hadn't even lifted a finger, and his master just sent the whole lot over, all packaged up?

Tai Xu had been playing dead among the rubble, but now his pupils trembled violently as he recognized those who had fallen from the heavens as his own kind.

Some were his secret agents placed throughout the Three Realms.

Some were lurking stragglers on the edge of Chaos.

Even a few were his own handiwork, sent into the void cracks with orders not to emerge without his signal.

All of them were dragged out.

Not a single one remained.

Tai Xu's heart sank, sinking down past the soles of his feet.

What does this indicate?

It shows that the old monster not only knows each of their positions, but even his hidden reserves are clear to him.

From start to finish, they were hopping about right under that old thing's eyelids.

Like a joke.

Over three hundred old gods lay on the ground, none daring to rise.

The air fell silent for a moment.

Then a voice drifted down from midair.

It wasn't loud.

One could even say it was faint.

But each word rang clear, drilling into everyone's ears and into the very marrow of their bones.

"Back then."

The voice of Patriarch Bodhi.

It was calm, like chatting about everyday matters.

"My disciple just left the Five Elements Mountain, his footing still unsteady, and you all teamed up to set a trap for him."

Tai Xu's body shuddered.

"Crane Bone Old Man."

Among the crowd, a withered old god as thin as a bamboo stalk stiffened all over.

"The third trial, the Flowing Sand River. You released three thousand corpse parasites upstream, hoping to poison my disciple and turn him into a puppet."

Crane Bone Old Man's face turned pale.

"Stone Abyss."

An old god encased in stone armor suddenly buried his head deeper.

"The seventh trial, Flaming Mountain. You secretly siphoned off the earth's spiritual energy, causing Iron Fan Princess's banana fan to go out of control, nearly burning my disciple to ashes."

Bodhi's voice remained calm, as if he were reading from a ledger.

But each time he spoke a name, the old god called upon felt as if his spine had been ripped out, collapsing limp to the ground.

"Xuan Ming Zi."

"You set up a karmic grand formation at the bottom of the Heaven-Reaching River, intending for my disciple to suffer the torment of nine lifetimes of rebirth."

"Scarlet Flame Daoist."

"You gave the Bull Demon King three supreme treasures, the condition being to take my disciple's heart's blood."

One after another.

One case after another.

The voice carried no anger, calm as if reading a menu.

But the old gods lying on the ground trembled more fiercely with each sentence they heard.

A few of the youngest and lowest‑Xiūwéi ones had already begun to lose control, and a foul odor spread through the crowd.

Tai Xu clenched his teeth, his mind racing.

He could wait no longer.

If he kept waiting, once that old thing finished tallying the accounts, it would be time to act.

He must run.

Although Tai Xu's Xiūwéi had been shattered by that staff for the most part, he still possessed a life‑saving ultimate skill—Great Void Escape.

No traversing of space, no breaking of the void.

He would directly turn his body into a wisp of blue smoke, merging with the Primordial Source of Heaven and Earth, becoming one with all things.

Back then even Hongjun could do nothing against this move.

He refused to believe that a half‑useless old man could—

Tai Xu suddenly forced the remaining magical energy in his body into action.

His body began to turn into blue smoke from his feet, moving at extreme speed; in the blink of an eye most of it had already dispersed.

The formless, weightless blue smoke drifted rapidly toward the edge of the star domain.

It quickened.

In another half‑breath, he would fully merge with the void's Primordial Source, and even if the Heavenly King came, he could not be found.

Then he felt a suction.

It came from behind his spine.

Silent and soundless, yet absurdly massive.

His body, already turned to blue smoke, seemed to be seized by an invisible giant hand and forcibly ripped out of the void's Primordial Source.

The blue smoke rapidly coalesced, compressed, and reconstituted in mid‑air.

Tai Xu's physical form was forcibly reassembled within a single breath.

Then—

Boom!

He was yanked by a tremendous force, slammed back to the ground from mid‑air with a harsh impact.

His back struck the earth.

Crushed stones flew up high.

The crack of his spine rang crisp as his tailbone hit the ground, excruciating pain shooting from his tailbone up to his Upper Dantian, blackening his vision, his mouth gaping as he let out a pig‑slaughter‑like wail.

"Ah—!"

He tried to roll over but couldn't.

He tried to move his fingers but couldn't.

He felt as if he were nailed to the ground.

Bodhi's voice sounded again, this time with a hint of amusement.

"Why run?"

"The accounts haven't been settled yet."

Tai Xu lay in the rubble pit, his face covered in blood, his eyes darting wildly, searching for an escape.

But he sensed nothing at all.

This space had been sealed.

Not by a formation.

Not by a treasure.

Rather, the very rules of this void had been rewritten— the Concept of "leaving" no longer existed here.

No one could depart.

No one even thought of leaving.

Over three hundred old gods were trapped here, like turtles in a jar.

Bodhi's voice sounded one final time.

The tone was casual, as if instructing a son to sweep the courtyard.

"That's enough, Sun Wukong."

"These broken junk, you handle them yourself."

"Don't take too long, come back for tea."

The voice faded away.

The oppressive pressure receded as well.

The old gods lying on the ground finally could breathe deeply, gulping air like drowning people resurfacing.

Yet before they could celebrate, they felt another gaze fall upon them.

Sun Wukong stood in the middle of the crowd, the Iron Staff planted in the ground, one hand resting on its head.

He lowered his head, looking at the old gods sprawled on the ground.

His eyes were clean and empty, devoid of any emotion.

Not anger.

Not excitement.

Not mockery.

Nothing.

Just watching.

Like looking at a pile of trash waiting to be processed.

Tai Xu struggled to lift his head from the rubble pit, just meeting those eyes.

His last sliver of hope in his heart was extinguished.

Those eyes told him one thing.

Today, none of the over three hundred present can leave.

Sun Wukong pulled the Iron Staff from the ground, hefting it in his hand.

"Thirty-two, right?"

He glanced at the new faces that had fallen from Heaven.

"Plus these few hundred bastards..."

He shouldered the Iron Staff and took a step forward.

Over three hundred old gods simultaneously shrank back a bit.

"We're not leaving today."

Sun Wukong cracked a smile, revealing a mouthful of white teeth.

The smile was relaxed.

But in the eyes of those old gods, it was more terrifying than Yama's soul-summoning talisman.

"Take it slow."

He walked toward the first one.

Just as he lifted the Iron Staff, behind him came another intense flash of the vine patterns on the Iron Staff.

Brighter than any previous time.

Sun Wukong's motion paused.

He tilted his head, looking toward the edge of the Universe.

That black tree.

That black tree he personally planted, sealing his enemy—the aura emanating from it is undergoing drastic change.

No.

That is not the sealed thing struggling.

That is something new, crawling out from inside the tree.