Chapter 119

At the same time, beads of cold sweat the size of beans appeared on Kumārajīva's forehead:

No matter how much he increased his force, Zhang Jie was always able to counter it with exactly the same amount of force.

This showed that Zhang Jie's internal energy was not only far above his own, but even his control was something he couldn't hope to match!

'Could it be an Arhat, a Bodhisattva, or a celestial being descended to earth?'

Kumārajīva, his eyes gradually filling with bloodshot veins, looked at Zhang Jie, who still seemed as relaxed as if he were out for a spring outing, and his heart was full of horror.

At the age of thirty, he unified Tibetan Buddhism and was honored by the vast number of believers as the Great Wheel Dharma King,

and was further conferred the title of State Preceptor by the King of Tibet; he considered himself, if not invincible in the world, at least one of the top five figures in the world.

And Zhang Jie, at barely the age of twenty, had cultivation that made him feel powerless;

with such heavenly talent, if he were not a celestial being descended to earth, what else could he be?

"Does the Dharma King wish to continue?"

Zhang Jie, knowing that Kumārajīva had already reached his limit, asked.

"Amitābha, the benefactor's internal energy is unfathomable; this humble monk admits defeat."

Kumārajīva, knowing he was no match, smiled bitterly and released his palm.

Zhang Jie smiled gently and offered a word of comfort:

"The Dharma King also put me under great pressure."

Duan Yu looked at Kumārajīva's forehead, which was covered in cold sweat the size of beans,

and then looked at Zhang Jie's face, which was as clean as ever and shining brightly in the sunlight,

and couldn't help but complain inwardly: 'You call this great pressure?

Wouldn't Master Masters Ku Rong and the others be so ashamed they'd commit suicide?'

The next second, Duan Yu, who had received Confucian and Buddhist teachings since childhood, repented in his heart:

'Sin, sin, Master Masters Ku Rong, Master Ben Yin, I should not have slandered you.'

Kumārajīva was also somewhat speechless at Zhang Jie's obvious perfunctory remark,

but since his strength was inferior, what else could he do?

Kumārajīva sighed and said:

"Since this humble monk is no match for the benefactor, then Benefactor Duan shall be left to you.

It is just a pity that the wish of my old friend, the old gentleman Murong Bo, cannot be realized."

'What wish of Murong Bo?

It's clearly you, a monk with impure roots, who covets the Six Meridian Divine Swords yourself.'

Zhang Jie sneered inwardly and revealed the truth.

Kumārajīva went to Tianlong Temple in Dali specifically for the "Six Meridian Divine Swords," which had been passed down through generations in Tianlong Temple,

and for this, he did not hesitate to exchange many of the seventy-two unique skills of Shaolin.

Unfortunately, as the highest martial arts inheritance of the Dali Duan clan, how could the "Six Meridian Divine Swords" be passed on to an outsider?

After knowing he was no match, the abbot of Tianlong Temple, Master Masters Ku Rong, decisively burned the sword manual of the "Six Meridian Divine Swords."

And in order to prevent the "Six Meridian Divine Swords" from being lost,

he specifically had Duan Yu, who had the ability to never forget what he saw, read the manual once before burning it.

This way, after letting Duan Yu copy it later, the "Six Meridian Divine Swords" would not be lost.

Masters Ku Rong originally thought this would dispel Kumārajīva's covetous heart.

Who could have imagined that Kumārajīva was a martial arts fanatic who was crazy about martial arts;

he immediately abducted Duan Yu, who was the living sword manual.

Of course, as the Great Wheel Dharma King and the State Preceptor of Tibet, Kumārajīva also cared about his face;

he couldn't directly say he coveted the Six Meridian Divine Swords and then brazenly take action to seize the sword.

His excuse was that his old friend Murong Bo had once commented that the "Six Meridian Divine Swords" were the number one sword in the world,

The eight arrows streaked across dozens of meters, striking the right wrists of the Eight Heroes of the Divine Arrow.

and now that Murong Bo was dead, he wanted to burn a sword manual for Murong Bo so that he could rest in peace in the underworld...

Well, Zhang Jie could only say that Kumārajīva's imagination was truly wild.

Murong Bo had been dead for decades on the surface,

and he only just thought of paying tribute to Murong Bo; how long was his reaction time?

Besides being able to fool ghosts, could this excuse fool any living person?

Or rather, Kumārajīva didn't need others to believe it;

all he needed was a fig leaf that was still somewhat passable.

Although he sneered inwardly, Zhang Jie remained gentle on the surface and directly revealed a big secret:

"The Dharma King need not worry about Murong Bo's spirit in heaven not being able to rest in peace, because he is not dead at all!"

"Impossible, this is absolutely impossible!"

Kumārajīva's head shook like a rattle-drum:

"This humble monk even attended the funeral of the old gentleman Murong back then,

and saw his corpse with my own eyes; he indeed died long ago."

Even on Duan Yu's face, there was some suspicion:

Murong Bo's death had already become a consensus in the Wu Lin.

At his funeral back then, not only did Kumārajīva, who was far away in Lhasa, arrive,

but even their Dali Duan clan had representatives come.

This representative was none other than the father who had left behind who knows how many

half-sisters for him, Duan Zhengchun.

Thinking of this, Duan Yu, who was an honest person, couldn't help but echo Kumārajīva:

"My father attended the funeral of the old gentleman Murong Bo,

and he did indeed pass away, not fake his death."

Zhang Jie's expression became interesting upon hearing this, and his gaze toward Duan Yu became strange:

Who knows how many of Prince Duan's illegitimate daughters were seeded during this journey...

For Duan Yu, he could only express sympathy:

For others, lovers eventually become spouses,

but for Duan Yu, lovers eventually become siblings; Mu Wanqing is one, Zhong Ling is one;

even the fairy sister Wang Yuyan, whom he dreamed of, is the same...

Duan Yu looked up at the sky and accused: 'Father, how many half-siblings have you actually produced for me?'

And Zhang Jie was thinking about whether or not to tell Duan Yu that his biological father was Duan Yanqing.

If that were the case, those half-sisters of Duan Yu's in name would become his cousins.

And according to the customs of the Great Song, cousins can marry.

But thinking that Duan Yu was the only heir to Dali, Zhang Jie suppressed this thought back in his heart:

If this news were to spread, a violent turmoil in Dali would be unavoidable.

Although he liked to watch the fun, he wouldn't go so far as to cause the destruction of thousands of families for the sake of a bit of fun.

'Well, when there is no need for Dali to exist, I can tell Duan Yu this news.'

As for when there is no need for Dali to exist?

Of course, it would be when he started doing big things.

Zhang Jie: The Great Song is incompetent; it seems I must come out of the mountains~

In his heart, the Great Song, Dali, Great Liao, Western Xia, and so on, were all to be swept into the dustbin of history.

Swish.

Zhang Jie opened his folding fan and gave a very simple and crude suggestion:

"If you want to verify whether Murong Bo is dead or not, wouldn't it be known by going to his grave to take a look?

I don't think the Murong family has the custom of moving graves after death, right?"

"This..."

Hearing about digging up Murong Bo's grave, Kumārajīva, who was a monk, hesitated.

Although their Tibetan Buddhism also has ritual instruments like sister drums, human bone hammers,

and flesh lotuses, they don't have the immoral tradition of digging up graves!

"Brother Zhang, absolutely not, absolutely not!"

And Duan Yu, who had received Confucian education since childhood, waved his hands repeatedly.

"Does the Dharma King not wonder, Murong Bo was at least a first-class expert back then,

and he didn't fight to the death with others, nor did he suffer incurable injuries from practicing martial arts and going into demonic deviation,

so how could he have died young at less than fifty?"

Zhang Jie continued unhurriedly.

"Amitābha."

Kumārajīva chanted a Buddha's name, and some lingering doubts arose in his heart:

For ordinary people, fifty is already the age of knowing one's destiny, and life and death are very normal;

but for first-class experts with internal energy to protect their bodies, it is merely the prime of life, around thirty-something.

According to incomplete statistics, as long as they are not killed or have their lifespan reduced after suffering serious injuries,

first-class experts can generally live to be eighty or ninety years old.

In this way, Murong Bo's sudden death is indeed very suspicious.

They didn't suspect it back then because they saw Murong Bo's corpse with their own eyes.

But thinking about it now, if some secret medicine were used in combination with Murong Bo's thick internal energy,

creating the illusion of fake death for a few days was not impossible.

Not to mention that the Murong family's art of disguise was also famous in the Wu Lin.

Moreover, a great expert like Zhang Jie

shouldn't be saying something so easy to verify just to tease them.

"Amitābha, since that is the case, then this humble monk will go to Yanziwu with the benefactor."

With suspicion in his heart, Murong Bo's affairs back then had all kinds of doubts,

and Kumārajīva quickly made a decision.

Zhang Jie smiled slightly and added tea for Kumārajīva:

"The Dharma King is straightforward."

Of course, he knew his rhetoric wasn't very clever,

but his power was the best support for this theory.

It's like how both a commoner and an emperor would want to open a coffin to confirm life or death.

If a commoner dared to do so, they would likely be beaten up by the family's guards first,

then reported to the authorities and charged with the crime of grave robbing and insulting ancestors.

But with an emperor's order, let alone opening a coffin to confirm life or death, even if they wanted to open the coffin to desecrate the corpse, they would do so.

The family would still have to kneel and welcome the imperial decree, otherwise, it would be resisting the imperial decree,

which is a crime punishable by the extermination of three clans, or even nine clans!