Chapter 427: Initiating You into the

The people of Chengtian Pavilion were furious.

Of course, some were utterly astonished—turns out the armor really had been stolen that night.

Actually, not many people knew that Chengtian Pavilion had forged fake armor.

And fewer than ten knew that the real armor had been taken that night, leaving the fake one behind.

"When did the Immovable Wisdom King put on his armor?"

"You weren't visible just now—how did you manage that?"

The surrounding martial artists also wore expressions of doubt.

The news that the demonic monk had stolen the Immovable Wisdom King was, in a sense, now truly confirmed.

This had been circulating from the start, even though the reason for spreading it wasn't that everyone had accepted this fact.

Now seeing it, they weren't overly surprised either.

What surprised them was: when exactly did this demonic monk put on the armor?

Weren't you just wearing a black cloak a moment ago? How did you suddenly change clothes? Could it be that you buried the Immovable Wisdom King underground beforehand and only dug it up at the critical moment to put on?

That speed is way too fast, isn't it?

"Ah, I see."

The storyteller narrowed his eyes, finally understanding what was going on.

As masters "divinely appointed" by the Reversal of Heaven and Earth, everyone turned to the storyteller, waiting for his clarification.

"The holy monk wore the Immovable Wisdom King from the beginning, merely concealing it with the illusionary technique of the Seven-Colored Immortal Silk." The storyteller spoke with certainty.

"Exactly!" The martial artists suddenly realized.

Everyone knew that the illusionary technique of the Seven-Colored Immortal Silk could make the false seem real.

"How despicable!"

"Truly sinister—at first he claimed he wouldn't take the sacred weapon, but now we see it was like this all along."

Some dissatisfied people muttered under their breath, having found a loophole, but dared not speak loudly.

This discovery proved that the Four-Times Demon Monk was not as strong as he had appeared moments before.

At least he too had used a sacred weapon to defeat a sacred weapon, not the outrageous feat of bare-handedly defeating the Yingying Sword God who wielded the Soul-Seeking Sword.

The sentiment shifted from "This is impossible—I don't believe it" to "Oh, I see now, it's understandable."

Even to the thought: "Well, it's just as expected."

"What a pity."

The storyteller sighed inwardly— for him, the legendary quality of such a story had diminished by one notch.

Basically, he was just another Resentful Heaven Divine Lord.

But this was already enough: the position of the world's greatest martial artist had changed hands, and among the Nine Sacred Weapons, as many as eight had now gathered in one place.

This feat was beyond what ordinary people could achieve.

Compared to the Resentful Heaven Divine Lord's destruction of the Buddhist sect, this was far more difficult and worthy of being grandly recorded.

Moreover, perhaps there truly is a secret among the sacred weapons.

Otherwise, Tang Xuanzang would hardly be so obsessed with collecting them.

If he sought to rule the martial world, in reality, having just two or three sacred weapons would already be sufficient.

With a single command, who knows how many martial artists would flock to him, settle down, and develop—within ten years, he would become the Fifth Sacred Land.

And it would be a Sacred Land even more flourishing than the Four Great Sacred Lands.

The uncrowned king of the martial world.

"Holy Monk." Thinking this through, the storyteller spoke: "This fan is yours now."

He cleanly tossed the fan in his hand toward Tang Luo.

Tang Luo reached out, caught the fan, and felt it was extremely light in hand—like a feather.

Reversal of Heaven and Earth, unfolding the fan and waving it—chilly breezes, raging winds, making one shiver without cold.

A group of people stared wide-eyed at the storyteller.

You just gave up like that?

Although the demonic monk blocked those explosive crossbow bolts with the Immovable Wisdom King, who knows if he's already injured?

If we all rush together shoulder to shoulder, maybe there's still hope?

Why did you kneel so fast, you bastard! You've thrown away all our hopes!

Facing the surrounding skepticism and discontent, the storyteller laughed freely: "I really only know some lightness techniques, and the sacred weapon helps greatly—my martial arts are truly not high."

He really is just a storyteller.

His martial arts are ordinary, his lightness technique is not bad, and with the aid of Reversal of Heaven and Earth, his lightness technique is absolutely superb.

But that's really all there is to it.

He is not the hidden boss of extraordinary ability from many of his own stories.

The storyteller also harbors no fighting spirit—he only wants to compile his "One Hundred and Eight Stars," experiencing more martial world events in his lifetime.

Without Reversal of Heaven and Earth afterward, he estimates he won't be able to roam as before— the martial world is so vast, I want to go see it.

But it doesn't matter, because he's not young anymore— today's battle at Tianhe Valley is his last personal participation, to go sightseeing everywhere.

After it ends, he will find a quiet place, organize all his experiences from these years, and write the story of this generation of the martial world.

This martial world will have one hundred and eight brilliant stars.

Tian Kui Star·White-Haired Holy (Demonic) Monk·Tang Xuanzang.

Tian Gang Star·Falling Blossom Sword God·Ye Bieli...

Will all be presented one by one under his pen and in his mouth.

There are always stories for later generations to witness.

"Holy Monk, is the secret within the Holy Weapons truly real?" The storyteller was most concerned about this matter right now.

Even Zhu Chenfu, who had just fainted, struggled to his feet, looking at Tang Luo.

Everyone from the Chengtian Pavilion had already prepared to fight to the death.

Yet the Demon Monk had absolutely no intention of attacking them, leaving them unable to advance or retreat.

Advancing meant they couldn't win; retreating meant that, seeing the ill-intentioned gaze of Young Master Yulong, they definitely couldn't leave either.

Tang Luo did not answer; the armor on his body disengaged on its own, flying to the side of the other Holy Weapons, the armored gauntlets still "holding" the Dao Juan Qiankun.

The Seven-Colored Immortal Silk fluttered behind him, emitting light.

Ao Yulie walked over, thrusting the Black Flame Demon Saber in his hand into the ground, placing it together with the other Holy Weapons.

Black Flame Demon Saber, Immovable Divine King.

Dao Juan Qiankun, Seven-Colored Immortal Silk.

Zhen Tian Sui Yue, Qian Qiu Wan Zai.

Li Hun, Pan Long.

Eight Holy Weapons gathered here, yet the Herdsman's Whip never appeared.

"No reaction?" Ao Yulie looked at the eight Holy Weapons, wondering whether to apply some external stimulation.

The faint radiance on the Seven-Colored Immortal Silk suddenly blazed intensely, the light completely enveloping all the Holy Weapons.

All the Holy Weapons began to tremble.

In the next breath, the Holy Weapons all flew into the sky, rotating within the seven-colored light.

This scene made everyone focus their attention, staring unblinkingly, afraid of missing the slightest detail.

Which would be a regret for a lifetime.

Soon, the light became blinding; apart from a few with deep cultivation who protected their eyes, everyone else could no longer look directly at the Holy Weapons in midair; ignoring the pain, they narrowed their eyes, forcing themselves to watch.

Within the light.

The eight Holy Weapons turned into light, converging together in the middle, the vague shape of a nine-toothed rake faintly visible.

And this rake seemed to want to fly toward a certain place.

But it barely formed for a few breaths' time, having only flown a few meters.

That nine-toothed rake directly "shattered," turning back into the eight Holy Weapons, falling to the ground.

A series of clanging sounds rang out.

The light dispersed, the nine Holy Weapons scattered around, some even falling directly into the crowd.

"A rake?"

"Eight Holy Weapons, no, nine Holy Weapons can form one?"

"The Holy Weapons share the same origin?"

A group of people's eyes were red, swollen, tearing, like a group of filial sons who had just finished mourning.

The eight Holy Weapons gathered together, barely merging into one for a short time, yet it was unstable.

Then, what about nine Holy Weapons?

Surely that would be stable?

Judging by the scene just now, it seemed to want to fly somewhere.

That place, could it be the birthplace of the Holy Weapons?

What would be there? More Holy Weapons, or — immortals?

A brand new world opened its doors wide to everyone.

The Holy Weapons falling beside them, within arm's reach, became the keys to the new world.

"Kill!"

Zhu Chenfu let out a fierce shout.

In my life, Zhu Chenfu, I have suffered the world's hardships and enjoyed wealth and glory; I have experienced all that should be experienced.

Now, I have only one very simple wish: to stay alive!

One year, two years, ten years, fifty years, a hundred years!

Just wanting to stay alive! Is that excessive? Not excessive at all.

The Heavenly Forbidden Guards surrounding him pounced on the Holy Weapons nearest to them at the first moment.

This action was like a spark igniting a powder keg.

It erupted violently, a tragic melee and slaughter thus beginning.

Just now the Holy Weapons were all under the Demon Monk's control; no one dared to be the first to stick their head out — that would be cannon fodder courting death.

But now it was different.

As long as a Holy Weapon was in hand, there was a chance!

Even the two from the Moon Palace were no exception; at this time, them reclaiming the Holy Weapons was perfectly justified.

Only Young Master Jian protected the injured Ye Bie Li and retreated.

The Sword God did not participate, and no one had a brain fart to attack him.

The storyteller cleverly jumped onto a protruding rock, flattening his body as much as possible, keeping low.

His gaze swept over the crowd already plunged into frenzied slaughter, and he let out a light breath.

The battle between Tang Luo and Ye Bie Li just now had caused many to lose their weapons; now they fought with fists and feet.

Young Master Yulong, the Red Fairy, and the Mad Arhat also joined the scramble.

Interestingly, these Holy Weapons seemed to have lost their former astonishing power for the time being after the change just now.

Some who luckily seized Holy Weapons, instead of slaughtering in all directions when they brandished them, were instantly besieged and died extremely miserably.

The Storyteller's gaze swept across, he turned his head to look, and his complexion suddenly changed.

He saw that white-haired monk standing in a tragic "battlefield," an empty area cleared out in the middle.

Even amidst the fierce slaughter, everyone at least maintained enough rationality not to provoke Tang Luo.

Unlike the Sword God and his disciple who actively withdrew, Tang Luo just stood there quietly, watching the killing field before him.

Both hands placed before his chest in a prayer gesture, as if paying homage to the Buddha.

"Demon Monk, Holy Monk..."

The Storyteller murmured a sentence, that peaceful, detached, unworldly bearing, so out of place with the surroundings.

Made his spine inexplicably turn cold.

Holy Monk? Demon Monk?

For a moment the Storyteller couldn't accurately describe this white-haired monk — demon, or holy?

Or a god?

Seemingly sensing the Storyteller's gaze, Tang Luo turned his head to look at him, smiled holding a flower, extended his right hand, and grasped the void.

The Black Flame Demon Saber that had just fallen into someone's hand instantly broke free from that person's control, grasped in Tang Luo's hand.

Slowly raising it level, looking at the saber with its black lotus flower guard, Tang Luo's gaze did not fall on anyone.

"Amitabha."

A Buddha's proclamation rang out, Tang Luo stepped forward slowly, "All benefactors possess the three poisons of greed, anger, and delusion in full, your six roots are impure, karma entangles your bodies."

"This poor monk... slays men, slays karma, accumulates merit, to ferry you to become 'Buddhas'."

Gorgeous saber light bloomed a black-red lotus flower amidst the crowd.