Chapter 797

Sword light pierced the brain, and the White Lotus Sect disciples' souls fled instantly.

Straight beams of light shot up into the sky, Wu Tie, with a grim face, squeezed out a disc-shaped secret treasure, refining soul crystals and bloodline essence.

The white lotus on Bai Wen and Bai Wu's foreheads slowly rotated; unlike ordinary disciples, they did not instantly dissipate. Their divine fetuses were collapsing, yet they retained a last bit of strength. Bai Wen stared straight at Wu Tie and whispered with a smile: "Sometimes, brains are more useful than fists… but honestly, we sometimes envy those idiots who only know how to use their fists."

Bai Wu gave a low hum: "What's the point of all this nonsense? Just die!"

With a "bang", the white lotus on Bai Wu's forehead shattered, utterly annihilating his soul in one blow.

Bai Wen lifted his head, glanced at the sky, then sighed softly: "What nonsense is this? Honestly, I envy those foolish monks of the Red Lotus Temple… all they need to do is swing their fists—what a good thing that is!"

"Using one's mind is too exhausting." Bai Wen let out a long sigh: "If I could have another life, let me be a dead bald monk of the Red Lotus Temple!"

The white lotus exploded, and Bai Wen's soul was utterly destroyed.

Qing Feng stood to the side, his face rather grim: "Excellent methods, excellent methods, tsk, Your Majesty… I feel like I've stepped into a cesspool… this, this, this…"

Shaking his head, Qing Feng murmured: "Next life? You have no next life… among the White Lotus Sect's many inheritances of music, chess, calligraphy, and sword, the supreme inheritance of the sword lineage, the 'White Lotus Slay-Immortal Sword Qi'… not a shred of innate primordial spirit remains intact; where could you possibly have a next life?"

Qing Feng shook his hand, looking bitterly at Fan Long and the others: "Monks, you must bear witness for me—these pale-faced deaths have nothing to do with me!"

Fan Long's face darkened severely; he gritted his teeth, gazing at the corpses of the slain Red Lotus Temple disciples, then suddenly let out a strange laugh: "Rest easy, rest easy—no matter who comes asking, I, the Buddha, will say it was you, Qing Feng with your bull nose, who killed the White Lotus Sect disciples!"

Qing Feng's face changed abruptly; he jumped up and shouted: "Monk, those who have left home do not tell lies!"

Fan Long raised his head and roared: "We're all monks about to die—what's it to me if I tell a lie?"

Qing Feng was left speechless, glaring at Fan Long in fury yet unable to utter a word. Wu Tie, standing aside, also could not speak; Fan Long's words were so reasonable that Wu Tie found himself unable to refute.

Indeed, Wu Tie's great axe was about to split his neck; we're all monks about to die—who still cares about these precepts?

Good monk, good monk, truly a good monk.

Wu Tie gritted his teeth and said coldly: "Thus, we meet force with force, water with earth… Qing Feng, don't forget—you are the state preceptor of Wuguo… your Qingliang Temple cannot be detached from this."

Fan Kun, beaten black and blue by Wu Jin, stood aside chuckling "hehe": "Qing Feng, you're the state preceptor of Wuguo? Hahaha, your Qingliang Temple is also about to enter the fray… no more pretending to be a carefree transcendent adept."

Qing Feng fell silent; a clear light swirled around him, and faintly visible, a fist-sized azure lotus blossomed atop his head.

Strange undulations rippled from this tiny azure lotus, instantly spreading to an extremely distant place.

This is an extremely profound divine ability; soon, a faint ripple returned from the horizon, and Qing Feng slowly nodded, his solemn, grim face reverting to his usual carefree smile.

He laughed and said to Fan Long: "Indeed, it was I, Daoist, who killed them—what of it? I, Daoist, bear the blame for Bai Wen and Bai Wu's deaths; your Red Lotus Temple's dead bald monks may testify or frame me—what can you do to me, Daoist?"

With a strange laugh, Qing Feng nodded at Wu Tie: "Your Majesty, the temple master says we should simply slay Fan Long and Fan Kun. The Red Lotus Temple has many dead bald monks; we don't lack these few… well, the temple master has also bestowed upon us a demonic art, the 'Great Divine Ability of Demon-Forged Śarīra'…"

Wu Tie stared at Qing Feng in astonishment.

Fan Long, Fan Kun, and the other Red Lotus Temple disciples roared in extreme fury.

Soon, Wu Tie learned the effect of this so-called Demon-Forged Śarīra Great Divine Ability—just as he had previously threatened, it is a cruel demonic practice that forcibly burns the śarīra from accomplished Buddhist disciples using demonic methods.

Just like Fan Long, who entered the Dao through over two hundred grand dao principles, theoretically his body had condensed over two hundred great dao śarīra.

But if this Demon-Forged Śarīra Great Divine Ability is used, setting Fan Long ablaze… theoretically, given his cultivation and strength, at least over two thousand wondrous, inexhaustible Buddhist śarīra could be forged.

This is a demonic method specifically aimed at Buddhist disciples, squeezing their value to the extreme.

In the Su Dynasty, the four barbarian nations to the four directions are enemies; disciples of the three great state-protection divine sects often reinforce the border battlefields. Once Red Lotus Temple disciples fall into enemy hands, they are invariably roasted alive by this Demon-Forged Śarīra Great Divine Ability, enduring endless torment until their souls scatter.

This great divine ability is a taboo within the Red Lotus Temple.

Whoever dares to cultivate this demonic divine ability is like waving a red cloth before a bull—the Red Lotus Temple disciples will go mad and fight to the death against those who practice this demonic ability.

Qing Feng, in front of Fan Long and the others, said that the master of the Qingliang Temple had bestowed this great divine ability……

Furious, hysterical—no words can describe the rage burning in Fan Long and the others' hearts.

If the current master of the Qingliang Temple were present now, Fan Long would surely bite off his tongue and spray blood in his face.

Just as he was thinking of the ferocity, a bell rang from the high heavens; a stream of light shot from the far eastern horizon at an unimaginable speed—billions of miles in the blink of an eye—and after a few breaths it flew near Wu Tie and company.

The stream of light's speed was astonishing; it seemed about to flash over the heads of Wu Tie and the others.

Fan Long, Fan Kun, and the others rejoiced.

They simultaneously chanted the Buddha's name; each person's qi and blood boiled, turning into faint wisps of beacon smoke that shot straight up into the sky.

Wu Tie had people seal Fan Long and company's magical cultivation, but their own qi and blood circulation could not be completely blocked. Without qi and blood flow, blood congeals—that would be death!

Thus, at this moment, the roughly three hundred monks, Fan Long included, all simultaneously exerted themselves; beams of blood-qi beacon smoke shot up from their heads, and that stream of light suddenly halted.

"Hum," "hum," "hum"—one resonant bell toll after another rang out continuously.

In the high heavens, a colossal phantom bell tens of thousands of li tall slowly materialized; its vast body was entwined with countless shadows of sun, moon, and stars, dragons soaring and phoenixes dancing, myriad divine birds and beasts flying about, moreover myriad celestial phenomena shifting—wind, rain, thunder, and lightning rolling forth.

Auspicious light and fortunate energy rolled and surged, instantly enveloping the void within a radius of a million li.

An ancient, vast, solemn, and reverent aura slowly spread from the phantom bell; the restrictions within Fan Long and the others' bodies were instantly broken, and they, grimacing, rose to stand upon the five-colored auspicious clouds.

Qing Feng shrieked hoarsely: "The Qian Yuan Divine Bell—this is the Su Dynasty's state-protection divine artifact, the Qian Yuan Divine Bell!"