Chapter 261: Master, What Does the Buddha Child Actually Look Like?

In the blink of an eye between life and death, Zhou Qing felt a chilling coldness surge from his soles straight to the crown of his head.

The decaying staff of the Kudì corpse, radiating an aura of rot, had already reached within half a foot of his scalp.

At once, he unhesitatingly activated the inscription-level divine art, “Hundred Calamities Blood Curtain.”

After all, it was the strongest attack he currently possessed.

Within the Taiqingmen Heavenly Realm, the First Ancestor’s puppet had repeatedly trained with him on this technique.

Against a supreme expert at the Cutting Spirit peak, ordinary divine arts were like a mantis trying to stop a chariot—utterly powerless to resist.

In an instant, beneath the golden aura that had previously enveloped Zhou Qing’s body, a blinding crimson light erupted.

This bloodlight seemed to rise from the deepest pits of the Nine Heavens’ Underworld, brimming with endless slaughter and fury.

Immediately, a massive blood phoenix emerged swiftly from the dense crimson glow.

The moment the blood phoenix appeared, it tilted its head and let out a deafening screech, its voice piercing through space and causing the surrounding air to violently tremble with deep, thunderous booms.

The phoenix’s feathers were as crimson as fresh blood, each one shimmering with eerie luster, especially when wrapped in bloodfire, as if soaked in blood for countless eons.

Behind it, an endless blood curtain churned ceaselessly, with waves upon waves of blood oceans surging and ebbing within.

Each surge seemed ready to drag all things in the world into an endless abyss.

Shhh!

A sharp whistling sound pierced the air as a single feather suddenly materialized within the churning blood sea.

This feather was densely inscribed with Dao patterns.

These Dao patterns were strangely shaped, as if recording the most ancient and primordial laws of heaven and earth, radiating an archaic, weighty aura.

At Zhou Qing’s mental command, the feather instantly transformed into a brilliant streak of crimson light and vanished into his palm.

This entire sequence, though seeming slow, was completed in the flash of an eye, leaving one breathless.

At this moment, the Kudì corpse had already reached him; its staff, wielding a sharp, cutting wind, slashed straight down.

Zhou Qing’s expression grew grim; he slowly extended his index finger and gently tapped forward: “Cut!”

A streak of crimson light shot forth from his fingertip, within which ancient Dao patterns flickered and danced.

Wherever it passed, space was torn open, revealing jagged black fissures from which endless dark energy poured forth.

Seeing this, the Kudì corpse seemed to sense the terrifying power of this strike; its fierce assault momentarily hesitated, then it decisively shifted from offense to defense, crossing its staff before it.

Boom!

The instant the light met the staff, a muffled explosion rang out, shaking the entire ancient temple violently.

The temple walls began to crack and collapse, large chunks of brick and stone tumbling down.

The ground could not bear the strain, cracking into massive fissures.

The staff in the Kudì corpse’s hands was flung away outright by the overwhelming force.

Kudì himself was blasted backward and slammed hard against a distant mountain wall.

With a thunderous crash, the mountain wall collapsed, countless boulders rolling down and burying the Kudì corpse beneath them.

Zhou Qing’s face turned pale, a trickle of blood seeped from his lips; a wave of intense weakness surged through him, his legs buckling as he nearly collapsed.

Yet his eyes burned with excitement.

This was the terrifying power of an inscription-level divine art!

Even in a hasty counterattack, and with only one Feng Dao pattern mastered, he had directly blasted away a terrifying, nearly mindless Cutting Spirit peak corpse.

The Blood Curtain of a Hundred Calamities, in its perfected state, possesses a full three thousand Phoenix Dao Marks, its power rivaling that of a cataclysm capable of destroying heaven and earth—no wonder it can match the power of a Dao Trace technique.

At this moment, Shen Hanyi stood frozen in shock, eyes wide, unable to believe what she was seeing.

Especially the colossal blood phoenix behind Zhou Qing, and the myriad Dao patterns swirling and flashing around it, left her utterly awestruck.

“Inscription-level divine art—” Her lips trembled as she whispered to herself.

In this moment, she was more certain than ever that this Number One was none other than the abbot of Jiyuan Temple, the Kuyu.

Rumors said the Kuyu Chan Master had long since shattered the barrier and entered the realm of transcendence, wielding an immensely powerful inscription-level divine art—but no one had ever been lucky enough to witness its use.

Yet the peak technique of ordinary divine arts, “Subdue Demons Golden Bones,” had just been displayed before her eyes, beyond any doubt, impossible to fake.

Thus, he must truly be a senior-level master.

Soon, a violent tremor emanated from beneath the pile of boulders that had buried Kudì.

Then, a withered arm emerged from the rubble, and slowly, the Kudì corpse rose from the ruins.

Zhou Qing’s heart tightened, but his spiritual power was nearly depleted, his body exhausted—he could no longer even activate the Emperor’s Radiance Scripture.

Yet to avoid suspicion, Zhou Qing sighed lightly and sat cross-legged on the ground.

The Kudì corpse slowly raised its arm; the staff that had fallen from its grasp now flew back into its hand on its own.

It fixed its gaze on Zhou Qing and let out a low, guttural roar before charging at him once more.

Shen Hanyi immediately moved to intercept, but Zhou Qing spoke: “Forget it. Let’s go.”

Then, Zhou Qing’s figure grew dim and began to withdraw.

The Kudì corpse, deprived of its target, lunged instantly; Shen Hanyi, having abandoned resistance, failed to dodge in time and was cut cleanly in half by the Kudì corpse’s staff.

When the two reappeared as light points, the atmosphere grew awkward.

“Senior—” After a moment of silence, Shen Hanyi spoke first, her voice now filled with reverence, no trace of doubt left.

Meanwhile, Zhou Qing, restored to peak condition, was eagerly absorbing the Buddhist divine art, “Subdue Demons Golden Bones.”

After all, this technique seemed even more advanced than ordinary divine arts, yet slightly below inscription-level, and its unique bone-refining system had left Zhou Qing overjoyed.

Hearing Shen Hanyi’s words, Zhou Qing paused, puzzled: “What?”

Shen Hanyi tilted her head slightly and spoke bluntly: “Abbot Kuyu, there’s no one else here—let’s speak plainly.”

Zhou Qing was stunned.

But soon he guessed what was happening, and couldn’t help but laugh and sigh.

Clearly, Shen Hanyi had mistaken him for another Chan Master who had cultivated “Subdue Demons Golden Bones.”

After all, he had overheard the monks’ gossip.

Abbot Kuyu must be the abbot of Jiyuan Temple, Kudì’s elder brother.

But—

This wasn’t so bad, at least it spared him from immediate suspicion.

Seeing Zhou Qing’s silence, Shen Hanyi continued: “Rumors say you perished long ago from depleted lifespan. Now it’s clear you used great divine arts to conceal yourself and cultivated in secret.”

“But since you’ve long known my true identity and yet made no move, you must have some hidden agenda. Senior, be frank—tell me your purpose, or name a place, and I’ll come find you.”

Zhou Qing’s lips curled slightly. Indeed, she had mistaken his identity.

Yet his expression remained impassive; after a brief pause, he said: “You misunderstand. I don’t know who you mean. I’m not the person you think I am. Monks don’t lie… well, right?”

Shen Hanyi: “...”

“Don’t come looking for me. Some things can be spoken of here, but in reality, I might just kill you. That’s it—I’ve got matters to attend to and must leave!”

Zhou Qing deliberately warned her: Don’t be foolish enough to go to Jiemie Temple and confront someone—your life might be forfeit!

With that, he withdrew.

Watching the red orb of Number One fade away, Shen Hanyi fell silent.

At this moment, the green orb of Number Four and the cyan orb of Number Five appeared, and Number Four cheerfully greeted: “Hey, Number Six, you’re here? Got time to explore together?”

Shen Hanyi glanced coldly at Number Four, her eyes icy, and replied bluntly: “Why don’t you let Number Seven Purple get you ‘happy’ first?”

Without another word, she exited the virtual space.

Number Four immediately began cursing.

You damn Number Seven, just wait—I’ve already dispatched over thirty Cutting Spirit experts to scour every region for the forbidden zone you manifested in.

When I find you, you’ll learn exactly what “happy” really means.

“Number Five, I need your help again!” Number Four quickly suppressed his irritation.

Number Five’s cyan orb let out a hearty laugh and said easily: “No problem. Go ahead!”

“Alright, I invite you!” With that, both vanished into the screen.

…

In the room, Zhou Qing opened his eyes, delighted.

He internally inspected his transformed golden bones—thankfully, his teeth remained as white as ever, or someone might mistake him for a vulgar commoner with gold fillings.

“I’ve basically copied someone else’s hard work. This ‘Subdue Demons Golden Bones’ doesn’t just make bones incredibly hard—it also suppresses one’s own attachment spirits and aids in Cutting Spirit breakthroughs!”

As he felt the immense power surging through his bones, Zhou Qing relived the technique’s many applications based on the memories he had acquired.

“I wonder if I can pass this on to the Supreme Elder and Master?” he muttered, then quickly shook his head.

This wouldn’t do.

First, based on the perspective I absorbed from Kudì’s past memories, only two people have ever successfully cultivated this technique—and only at the Cutting Spirit level.

No need to guess—its cultivation difficulty must be immense.

In fact, I’m likely the third person in the world to master “Subdue Demons Golden Bones,” and the first to do so at the Soul Transformation level.

The Supreme Elder and Master are already elderly, with little lifespan left; their chance of success would be negligible.

Worse, if Jiyuan Temple’s monks from the fifth-level spiritual nation discovered this, it would bring endless trouble—and possibly doom Taiqingmen.

“Still, now my entire skeleton is nearly indestructible—even if severed, it regenerates instantly. That’s the most terrifying part.”

Zhou Qing clenched his fist, feeling the surging power within.

“Too bad the spiritual power cost is enormous—but as long as I don’t face a Cutting Spirit expert, it should be fine!”

Thinking of this, Zhou Qing’s eyes blazed with excitement.

Already at Soul Transformation mid-stage, he could crush peers with absolute certainty and reverse-kill late-stage opponents.

Now, with the Demon-Subduing Golden Bones and the Inscription-level Divine Art “Hundred Calamities Blood Curtain,” even facing a Soul Transformation peak, he would have no fear.

“Three [Corpse-Feeling Posters]—this is an absolute windfall!” Zhou Qing was overjoyed.

【Today’s posts are refreshing…】

【A new post has been added to the Odd Post Record; please check promptly.】

At that moment, a familiar notification tone suddenly echoed in his mind.

Zhou Qing couldn’t help blinking.

Wait, I just used up all the [Corpse-Feeling Posters], and a new one already refreshed?

Is it really this random?

Without hesitation, he quickly checked the Odd Post Record and saw a yellowed poster quietly embedded at the homepage.

The text on it was crooked and uneven, as if written with a dried branch dipped in ink, emitting an eerie purple light.

Bad Luck Poster: Can be driven into another's body; once it strikes, bad luck clings like a shadow, and calamities follow one after another, lasting three days!

Zhou Qing: “…”

Haha!

How coincidental—in Qingyu Immortal Sect, the white-robed Lin Jin helped divert attention, letting him escape the ambush by Xuanyou Immortal and others.

The condition? One [Bad Luck Poster]. He’d worried it wouldn’t refresh, and now here it was.

Perfect—it lets him settle this karmic debt early. After all, he hated owing others.

“I only mastered one Phoenix Dao Mark so far—I still can’t condense the [Blood Phoenix Calamity Crystal]. At least five are needed!”

Zhou Qing frowned slightly, a trace of regret flashing in his eyes.

The [Blood Phoenix Calamity Crystal] is a uniquely vital component of the Inscription-level Divine Art “Hundred Calamities Blood Curtain,” especially devastating when facing numerous enemies.

Once the vast blood-wing phantom unfurls, it slaughters all enemies within range.

Then, their essence and spiritual power automatically condense into blood crystals, directly cultivable with zero side effects.

As one who already required far more spiritual power than peers to break through at the Four Flowers Crowned stage, this was tailor-made for him.

“Master gave me five supreme wood-element spirit stones from the Qingyu Immortal Sect—but to condense another Phoenix Dao Mark, I need at least five more!”

But Taiqingmen’s current resource reserves are stretched thin; to acquire more, he must find his own path.

“Little Sect Master!” A familiar voice rang out from outside.

Zhou Qing stepped out, puzzled, and found Jiang Pu, Elder of the Soul Lamp Tower.

And atop his head still hung the note: 【A Child With Courage, Strategy, Skill, and a Bit of Power】

【Heart-Reflection Points +9】

The next instant, his note changed to: 【Taiqingmen’s Most Precious Treasure】

Zhou Qing: “…”

Jiang Pu now wore an expression of reverence, bowing deeply to Zhou Qing with sincere tone.

“Little Sect Master, before the Sect Master entered seclusion, he repeatedly instructed me to ask you: could you reconsider and spare some soul energy to reignite the soul flame?”

Zhou Qing instantly understood.

They feared for his safety now that he was Taiqingmen’s Little Sect Master.

If he were in danger, the soul flame would instantly alert the elders, who could rush to his rescue.

Originally, he’d insisted on reclaiming the soul lamp because he suspected High Elder Gao Xian and Elder Jiang Pu were colluding with ill intent.

Of course, both now had no suspicion.

Yet without the special conditions of the Divine Ruins Palace simulation, reigniting the soul flame would be a powerful protective backup.

But the thought of dying and reviving repeatedly in simulation, causing the soul flame to flicker uncontrollably and potentially trigger chaos, filled him with resistance.

“Elder Jiang, forget it,” Zhou Qing said with a carefree smile. “I like the thrill of walking the edge of death to find life!”

Elder Jiang seemed to have expected this answer and showed no pressure, only nodding slightly.

“Alright then. I don’t have much else to do daily—I’ll come back in a few months. Maybe by then you’ll have changed your mind.”

After bowing again to Zhou Qing, Elder Jiang turned and left.

Zhou Qing sighed helplessly, crouched down, and hugged the old hen. Just as he turned to enter, another voice tore through the air.

“Little Sect Master—” Elder Wu Zhu shouted loudly.

Zhou Qing turned, puzzled.

The acting Sect Master was Master Mo Xingjian; why was Elder Wu Zhu, the Boundary Guardian, seeking him?

“Little Sect Master, a white-robed man waits outside the mountain gate. I asked his name—he refused to say. He keeps his back to me—I can’t see his face at all.”

Elder Wu Zhu landed and hurriedly added.

Zhou Qing was stunned. What’s going on today?

The [Bad Luck Poster] just refreshed—and here comes the creditor demanding it.

“I understand!” Zhou Qing said, hugging the hen and stepping out.

Elder Wu Zhu hurried after him.

Especially as he gazed at Zhou Qing’s back, his face brimmed with admiration.

Who could have imagined—after guarding Taiqingmen’s boundary gate for over a thousand years—he’d live to witness the secrets of the dual-color array?

This child, Zhou Qing—from his naive, unpolished arrival at Taiqingmen to his current composure and competence—he’d watched every step of his growth.

In the entire fourth-tier spiritual nation, second-tier array masters were rarer than phoenix feathers—fewer than nine existed, fewer even than legendary Severing Spirit cultivators.

And our tiny Taiqingmen? We alone possess one. What glory. What rarity.

…

Meanwhile, Canglan Mountain!

Once a vast, continuous mountain range, now lifeless and still, the sky itself choked under thick layers of dark clouds, no ray of sunlight piercing through.

In the center, a colossal chasm stretched across the land.

This was where the Five Great Sects of the Eastern Region once joined forces to battle millions of demonic beasts.

Countless lives perished here—especially disciples and sect masters from over a thousand Eastern Region sects, all extinguished.

Even Jin Leizong, Qingyu Immortal Sect, and Tianji Sect—fewer than two-tenths of their peak numbers escaped.

And that was only because Sikong Yan deliberately held back.

Afterwards, he detonated the incomplete five-color array and the complete four-color array, turning this land into a dense nest of resentment.

The clinging hatred, agony, and bitterness mixed with the acrid stench of decay, forming a nauseating, terrifying atmosphere.

Yet if one looked closely, at the very edge of this abyss—once a place everyone feared—two monks now sat.

They sat cross-legged in silence, murmuring softly.

The elder monk wore a worn but clean gray robe, his eyes deep, calm, radiating compassion and serenity.

The young monk, about seven or eight, wore robes too large, his youthful face filled with focus and devotion.

Their lips moved, chanting ancient sutras—and the black threads of resentment hovering above the abyss slowly thinned, turned transparent, and vanished into air.

With each thread’s dissolution, golden light flickered, quietly flowing into the two monks.

As time passed, golden light gathered on the elder monk, enveloping him like a golden Buddha statue.

The young monk’s face glowed faintly golden, his eyes brighter.

After roughly two hours, the young monk’s stomach suddenly let out a soft gurgle.

Then he couldn’t help letting out a burp, swayed slightly, and stopped.

“Master, my Bodhi Heart has absorbed enough—I feel like I’ll vomit if I keep going.”

The young monk wiped beads of sweat from his brow and whispered to the elder.

His face flushed red—this prolonged, intense act of liberation had pushed his body and spirit to their limits.

Hearing this, the elder monk paused his chanting, a gentle smile appearing on his face.

“No matter. Liberation cannot be rushed—it must proceed gradually. You’ve endured this long already—far beyond my expectations. Truly remarkable.”

He gently patted the young monk’s shoulder, his eyes filled with approval and affection.

“The resentment in this abyss is too intense—even I cannot bear it for long.”

“You, with your tender body, have helped liberate so many resentments. This is great virtue. The merit you’ve accumulated will bless you in the future.”

The young monk, hearing his master’s words, smiled shyly, his weariness fading.

He nodded and asked: “Master, with so much resentment here—when will we finally purify it all?”

The elder monk gazed deeply into the abyss, calm, and said slowly: “The Buddha’s compassion liberates all beings—not in a single day.”

“Moreover, finding such a place greatly aids our cultivation—it’s the perfect crucible to forge the Bodhi Heart.”

“No matter what you do, don’t rush. As long as you hold compassion and remain true to your heart, all things are possible.”

The young monk nodded, half-understanding, his face breaking into a sweet, innocent smile.

He scratched his head, as if remembering something, and murmured: “I wonder how the others are doing… I’m starting to miss the rice from Jiyuan Temple.”

The elder monk couldn’t help laughing softly, his eyes brimming with fondness.

He gently patted the young monk’s head. “You little glutton—even during cultivation, you think of food.”

“But it’s fine. Humans eat grains; hunger is natural. When we finish here, we’ll return to the temple—I’ll let you eat your fill.”

The young monk nodded vigorously, eyes shining with anticipation.

“Master, will we really find the Buddha Child this time? What will he look like?” The young monk suddenly asked.

The elder monk looked at the abyss, his voice calm: “The Buddha Child’s incarnation follows its own destiny.”

“He may bear strange marks—or appear utterly ordinary. But his heart will hold Buddha-nature. Whether we find him depends on fate.”

Speaking thus, he paused, his gaze crossing the abyss toward the distance.

“The Bodhisattva’s mission is to spread the Dharma and liberate all sentient beings. He may now be enduring suffering, or perhaps he has already taken his first step on the path of cultivation.”

“But no matter where he is or what he faces, his Buddha-nature will guide him—and guide us to find him.”

“Then, Master, how can we be certain we’ve found the Bodhisattva?” the young monk asked, his face filled with confusion.

The elder monk smiled gently, placing a light hand on the young monk’s shoulder. “The Bodhisattva has his own karmic connection. When we meet him, we will sense it.”

The young monk tilted his head, thinking, then said, “Master, I understand. Just as we liberate these resentful spirits—if we hold compassion in our hearts and follow the Dharma, we will surely find the Bodhisattva, right?”

“Exactly so,” the elder monk nodded approvingly, his eyes brimming with satisfaction.

“The Buddha is compassionate. Liberating resentful spirits and seeking the Bodhisattva are both acts of practicing the Dharma and liberating all sentient beings. As long as we devote ourselves wholeheartedly to the Buddha, karmic connection will come.”

With that, the elder monk clasped his hands together, closed his eyes once more, and emitted a serene Buddhist light as he began another round of liberation.

“I hope the Bodhisattvas’ divination is correct, and that we may find the Bodhisattva without hindrance,” the elder monk silently prayed.

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(End of Chapter)