Chapter 509: Hand over life and death!

Sun Wukong has the situation firmly in hand!

Above the clouds, the Bodhi Patriarch's Dharma Aspect sits cross-legged in the void.

He did not make a move.

He also did not speak.

He simply held the half-warm tea, lowering his eyes to look at the monkey below.

Watch him smash the Great Void's shoulder bone.

Watch him sever, one by one, the escape routes of the three hundred old gods.

Watch him, neither angry nor smiling, composed as if sweeping fallen leaves in his own backyard.

Bodhi's hand holding the tea is steady as a mountain.

There is an extremely faint curve at the corner of his mouth.

That mud-covered, teeth-baring monkey on Fangcun Mountain back then,

now knows when to deliver a killing blow and when to let his prey live a little longer.

Not rushed.

Not agitated.

Killing is measured.

This is what a disciple taught by him should be like.

Below.

Ruined Star Domain.

Sun Wukong withdrew the Iron Staff that had been pressed against the Great Void's neck.

The Great Void still thought he had misheard; the pain all over his body made even thinking sluggish.

Didn't strike down?

Didn't strike down!

A flicker of the thought to survive had just risen in his mind when Sun Wukong's next action snuffed it out.

The monkey did not look at him.

He turned and walked toward the middle of the crowd.

Each step on the gravel ground emitted a dull, heavy sound.

Three hundred plus old gods lay on the ground, breathing shallow and broken, mouths pressed to the earth.

No one dared to move.

No one dared to look.

Sun Wukong walked to the exact center of the crowd and stood firm.

With his left hand he tossed the Iron Staff up slightly, changing his grip.

Then——

"Thud!"

The staff's butt struck the ground.

The entire Ruined Star Domain shuddered.

Of the old gods lying in the gravel, seven or eight were flung up by the shock, then fell back with a 'pat' and knocked out their teeth.

No one dared to make a sound.

No one dared to whimper.

Three hundred plus heads were pressed hard against the ground, as if nailed there.

Silent.

A silence that makes one's scalp tingle.

Sun Wukong looked around; his crimson-gold eyes swept over every fearful face.

Slowly sweeping.

Looking at them one by one.

He spoke.

"You fear death."

Not a question.

It's a statement.

"Afraid to death—each more afraid than the last."

His voice was flat, as if stating something boring.

"The three who just jumped up aren't unafraid; they think they'll die anyway, so they might as well fight."

"But you are different."

"You don't even dare to fight."

He slung the Iron Staff over his shoulder, freeing his right hand to point at the nearest old god on the ground.

"You."

The one pointed at shuddered all over, as if shocked, burying his head even lower.

Sun Wukong's finger moved.

"You."

"You."

"And you too."

He went through them one by one, his tone indifferent as if taking inventory.

After pointing at a dozen or so, he withdrew his hand.

He flexed his wrist.

His joints cracked a few times.

That motion was casual, but among the old gods lying on the ground, three lost bladder control on the spot.

Sun Wukong lowered his head to glance at the newly appeared water stain on the ground, and wrinkled his nose.

"Really damn embarrassing."

He cleared his expression, and his voice suddenly went soft.

"I thought about it."

Tai Xu's ears perked up.

All the old gods' ears perked up.

"Killing you would be too fast."

Tai Xu's heart jumped violently.

"One strike with the staff, and not even bone fragments would remain—you wouldn't even have time to feel pain."

Sun Wukong tilted his head.

"Cheap."

"Too damn cheap for you."

As soon as he said that, the old gods lying on the ground not only didn't relax, they trembled even more.

Because they heard from that monkey's tone something more terrifying than killing intent.

That was a kind of… amusement.

Like a cat that caught a mouse, not in a hurry to kill it, but first giving it a couple of slaps to watch it run.

"How many years have you lived?"

Sun Wukong's question was casual.

No one dared to answer.

"Tens of thousands? Over ten thousand? Or hundreds of thousands?"

He asked and answered himself: "When you were in Heaven, what did you look down on the most?"

Silence.

"Look down on Mortals."

He said it for them.

"Thinking Mortals are ants, are fools, are a batch after batch of leeks. Living a hundred or so years then dying, not even worthy to hand you your shoes."

"You tower above, immortal, looking down on all things."

"This feeling—feels great, right?"

Sun Wukong chuckled.

That Smile made Tai Xu's blood run cold.

"Then today I'll let you know what it feels like to be an ant."

He took the Iron Staff from his shoulder and held it across his front.

The golden‑green interwoven patterns on the staff flashed for a moment.

"I won't kill you."

All the old gods stared at once.

"I will abolish you."

"Abolish all your Xiūwéi."

"Abolish all your divine abilities."

"Abolish your immortality."

"Make you become—Mortals."

When the last two words hit the ground, the whole space echoed with a wail more desperate than a death sentence.

"No! Don't!"

"Kill me! I beg you, kill me!"

"Great Sage! I'd rather go die—!"

Cànjiào rose and fell.

For those old gods who have lived tens of thousands of years, death is not frightening.

Becoming Mortals is what's frightening.

Becoming the ants they once trod underfoot is the true hell.

Sun Wukong watched them wail and roll on the ground, his expression unchanged.

"Why cry?"

"Wait until you become Mortals, then when you're tilling fields, hauling waste, starving and freezing, you can cry then."

Tai Xu went mad, lifting his head, face covered in blood and grime, shouting: "You can't do this! You can't—"

Sun Wukong lowered his head and glanced at him.

"Shut up."

Just two words.

Tai Xu's mouth snapped shut, as if an invisible hand had covered it.

It is not a spell.

It is instinct.

It is that icy glint in the monkey's eyes that made his body choose obedience faster than his mind.

Sun Wukong thrust his iron staff forward, the tip pointing at Tai Xu's brow.

"You are the first."

Tai Xu's body trembled.

His lips quivered.

He wanted to beg for mercy, but his throat could make no sound.

The crimson gold light and green Vine Patterns on Sun Wukong's staff tip lit up together, and a force that made the Línghún deep within people tremble began to gather.

This is not destruction.

This is deprivation.

To strip bare, layer by layer, a mighty cultivator who has trained for tens of thousands of years.

Until he was stripped down to less than a roadside beggar.

Sun Wukong's mouth corner twitched slightly upward.

Don't rush.

One by one.

Today——no one can escape.

He turned his wrist, and the iron staff slowly pressed against Tai Xu's brow.

At the moment the crimson gold light sank into Tai Xu's body, he let out a miserable scream a hundred times more horrific than the sound of breaking bones—

That was the sound of a Línghún being flayed alive.

And just outside this wasteland.

At the edge of the Universe.

On the black giant tree that sealed the enemy, the white light bursting from the seventeenth crack suddenly went out.

In its place came an azure flame.

The flame drilled out of the crack and fell onto the barren soil at the tree's roots.

It did not burn.

It did not spread.

It merely pulsed quietly, like an egg about to hatch.

Fangcun Mountain.

Bodhi's motion of setting down his tea cup paused.

His eyes narrowed.

That aura was all too familiar to him.

So familiar that his right hand—the withered hand once corroded by the Heavenly Dao—unconsciously clenched into a fist.

"That madman……"

Bodhi spat out three words, his voice carrying a hint of gravity for the first time.

"He actually dragged himself into it as well."