Chapter 752: Cleanup

In front of numerous cultivators, Diaoke repeated his words several times.

To prove he was not lying.

At such a grand occasion, it was impossible for Diaoke to lie; a loose cultivator, if his reputation were ruined, well, that same saying applies — unless his cultivation is truly high.

Otherwise it's really hard to get by.

Even Lian Tuxing, that martial madman, knows who he should bully.

This is about enough; otherwise it would be too ugly. Forcing Diaoke to show up and explain himself is itself rather ugly.

It's just that the various sects have rarely joined forces like this, so no one will say much more.

Pushing further would be inappropriate.

Diaoke isn't some evil heretic; his connections and friendships are quite extensive, and his reputation isn't bad either.

Thus, several major sect masters appeared in person, chatted amiably with Diaoke, and expressed how could they not trust the East Sea's Diaoke?

Everyone all smiles, "you're good, I'm good."

After the laughter, Diaoke fled in a puff of smoke.

He had no intention of staying to watch the excitement; last time he watched the excitement he nearly got himself killed watching.

Not watching this time, hurry up, hurry up.

He hadn't flown far when Diaoke suddenly heard a voice transmit: "Benefactor, please stay!"

Diaoke's body shuddered. Benefactor?

Damn it!

Could that white-haired demon monk have come out?

No way! I, Diaoke, have roamed the world all my life — how could I capsize here?

He immediately put on a smile, turned, and said: "Master, not seen in many days, your style..."

The words stopped halfway.

The ones rushing over — where was that white-haired demon monk? It was a group of bald heads.

Under the sunlight, that group of bald heads appeared extremely glaring.

The leading bald head wore white robes, handsome and extraordinary; it was precisely he who had just said "Benefactor, please stay."

Although his voice wasn't the same as Tang Luo's, the moment Diaoke heard "Benefactor," his body shuddered instantly — it had practically become a conditioned reflex.

"So it's Master Wuxin..." Diaoke cupped his fists, swallowing the rest of his words completely, his expression cold.

As expected, not a single monk is any good; you nearly scared me to death, you know that!

Wuxin didn't mind Diaoke's coldness.

However you put it, Diaoke was forced to come here and speak under everyone's watchful eyes; his mood certainly wouldn't be good.

He could understand.

Of course, understanding is understanding, but what needs to be asked still must be asked.

Monk Wuxin spoke directly: "May I ask Senior Diaoke, in that Demon Saint Ground, was there indeed a monk?"

His cultivation time was shorter than Diaoke's, so calling him Senior was no issue.

Moreover, his cultivation was deeper than Diaoke's, so this showed more respect.

After all, for cultivators, age isn't very important; strength is what matters most.

With strength comes seniority.

"Correct." Diaoke, baffled, not knowing what this group of monks had run over for, "He was an eminent monk."

"Oh." Monk Wuxin nodded. "Dare I ask Senior, what did that monk look like?"

"White-haired, youthful." Diaoke had said this before; there was nothing unspeakable about it.

"As expected."

Wuxin revealed a moved expression.

"Hm?"

Diaoke blanked for a moment, feeling a bit strange.

"That person should be the one my Fulong Temple lost many years ago; counting it up, this poor monk is still his martial nephew."

"???"

Diaoke's expression was quite spectacular for a moment.

Fulong Temple's eminent monk lost many years ago — I believe your ghost!

So you monks are this shameless; no wonder the demons back then said they'd hunt you down no matter what.

Well killed!

Aside from a group of cultivators being planted into the ground, what scene hasn't he, Diaoke, seen?

He almost instantly understood what scheme these Fulong Temple monks were cooking up.

They want to get a share of the pie in this matter.

A monk stirring up trouble in the Demon Saint Ground — good thing!

He definitely can't withstand so many sects' pressure; we Fulong Temple extend a helping hand at this time, and we can happily come in and get a share of the pie.

Help that monk oppose all sects?

Impossible, but Fulong Temple can mediate; as long as there's a pretext, it's fine.

Then everyone sits down together, row by row, dividing the fruit.

Counts as making up for the regret that Buddhist disciples couldn't intervene in the Demon Saint Ground affair.

What a fine wishful abacus they're calculating.

Without paying anything, they can come over and share the fruit.

"I see, then I take my leave." The Angler bowed his hands.

That white-haired demonic monk is ruthless, this bunch of bald donkeys is sly, they can't afford to play, they can't afford to play.

"Please stay, benefactor." Wuxin spoke.

If you have questions to ask, ask the senior, now you've become a benefactor again.

"Since the Angler benefactor has an affinity with the high monks of my Fudragon Temple, why not enter——" Wuxin said, throwing out an olive branch.

Also adding strength to them.

"No need!" The Angler tossed out a sentence, instantly vanishing from sight.

A group of greedy people, he didn't want to suffer great misfortune with them.

Huh, why do I instinctively feel this bunch of guys are all going to suffer misfortune?

The Angler shook his head, running back to his own East Sea.

On the other side, numerous cultivators were still besieging the Heavenly Demon Holy Land.

For now, no one had entered yet, the Angler's words had already proven the Heavenly Demon Holy Land had changed, quite dangerous.

Rashly entering, one would likely meet disaster.

No one wished to be this standing-out bird.

Moreover, it's not just letting anyone in, at least a certain cultivation level is required, otherwise entering would be like a stone sinking into the sea.

Unable to bring any return.

A group of major sects gathered together, instead forming a situation of mutual restraint.

At this moment, the Fudragon Temple appeared.

The current abbot, Master Wuxin, stated that at this very moment, the monks occupying the Heavenly Demon Holy Land were remnants of his Fudragon Temple from years ago, the Destitute Monk.

Because he violated some precepts, he defected from the Fudragon Temple and his whereabouts became unknown.

This time, the Fudragon Temple has come, willing, under the witness of all major sects, to personally capture this wretch back, to uphold the name of the Fudragon Temple.

When did the Fudragon Temple gain another Proper Monk?

Everyone doesn't know.

But everyone knows that the standing-out bird has arrived, and this standing-out bird is quite clever, giving reasons and giving steps.

The high cultivators of the major sects simply all entered together, and then, then they divided the spoils.

The Fudragon Temple, long excluded from the outside, can now get a share.

This differs slightly from what the Angler had guessed.

Of course, if the other party is indeed a tough nut, it feels like a heavy price must be paid.

Very simple, then it's just as the Angler had guessed.

From the Destitute Monk becoming a Proper Monk, it's settled.

Externally claiming a mistake, originally it was the Proper Master, the Proper Master is a good monk, who years ago pursued and killed the Destitute Demonic Monk and went, similarly without trace.

What, many cultivators might encounter misfortune?

Oh, that's the doing of the Destitute Demonic Monk Yikan, he also sneaked into the Heavenly Demon Holy Land, and the Proper Master came precisely to chase him.

Now the Destitute Demonic Monk has already been crushed to ashes by everyone.

Do you believe it or not, the numerous renowned major sects under heaven all believe it, why don't you believe, what gives you the dare not to believe?

Perfect!

The leaders of the eight sects, the sect heads or elders, and Monk Wuxin exchanged glances, then smoothly swept over everyone present.

They didn't say a single word.

Eye contact, spiritual sense fluctuations, in an instant a TB of information was completed in exchange.

The transaction was completed.

Done!

The experts of the nine sects stepped forward one after another, majestic and imposing, with immense momentum, righteously declaring they could help the Fudragon Temple subdue the traitor.

The remaining cultivators, upon seeing this, thought it was too shameless!

You these major sects, too shameless, is it just by relying on such shamelessness that you grow strong?

Even if they cursed wildly in their hearts, they were powerless to stop the union of these powerful sects.

"Wicked obstacle! Back then you defected from my Fudragon Temple, and in the holy land stirred up wind and waves, bringing calamity to many fellow cultivators, still not coming out, quickly bind your hands and surrender, await judgment!"

Monk Wuxin, as the vanguard, certainly had to speak, set the tone, to prove everyone's actions were absolutely not for private desire.

But for justice.

Wuxin's words also directly employed a Buddhist divine ability similar to "a sudden blow to the head," his voice like muffled thunder, like heavenly sound, transmitted into the Heavenly Demon Holy Land while also echoing between heaven and earth.

Striking the hearts of many cultivators.

Directly smashing the small abacuses of many cultivators.

After saying this, Wuxin then turned his head to his companion beside him and said: "Please, fellow cultivators, follow this poor monk and enter together, to jointly exterminate this wretch——"

"This poor monk has said, this place is not where you ought to come."

As the words fell, from the vortex of the Heavenly Demon Holy Land, a person walked out.

White-haired, red-clothed, appearing to be no more than a youth, eyes icy cold, aura chilling.

Upon seeing him, many cultivators' hearts trembled greatly, as if seeing a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, white bones piled up.

"An illusion?"

A group of cultivators' bodies shuddered, their spirits cleared, what they had just seen seemed merely an illusion.

But also not an illusion.

This self-styled poor monk, yet with hair, is indeed a slaughter-heavenly wretch.

Could it be that what Master Wuxin said was true?

"He's out..."

"Not someone to be trifled with."

"This villain is dangerous!"

The moment Tang Luo appeared, Wuxin and the others immediately sensed that this was an extraordinarily formidable enemy.

If going by the original plan, it would be best for them to adopt a policy of appeasement.

But the other party showed up directly, and was a man brimming with murderous intent, so be it.

In any case, everyone going all out — it's indeed been a long time since they'd exchanged blows, time to limber up.

To be able to die at the hands of so many veterans, masters, and powerhouses, this strange monk could well be proud of himself.

The crowd did not add the word "little," naturally able to tell that although this person's stature was small, he was absolutely not a child.

Most likely a reclusive old monster who knows how many years he has lived.

"Monster! It really is you! Back then you committed heinous sins and escaped from Fulong Temple——" Wuxin still wanted to say some formal words.

"Three breaths' time, all of you scram for this poor monk! Otherwise, death!"

As a result, Tang Luo didn't give any face at all, opening his mouth to interrupt.

Wuxin blanked for a moment, then a cold sneer flashed across his face — courting death!

The surrounding cultivators also revealed looks of watching a dead man walk; suicide isn't committed like this.

You look very strong, granted, but what is the occasion now, and who are the people you're facing — don't you have any idea in your heart?

But there were also a small portion of cultivators who hesitated slightly, then simply fell back.

It wasn't that they thought this white-haired monk would win, just that their hearts felt an inexplicable alarm, and at the same time they feared being dragged in — better to hide farther away.

Three breaths' time passed very quickly.

A Luoli Sect cultivator straightforwardly raised a hand, a "Palm Heart Thunder" condensing, about to give this person a show of force.

At the same time, the moment the time was up, Tang Luo raised his hand, left index finger pointing out.

Reincarnation Salvation Finger!

In an instant, all cultivators' gazes changed — no heaven, no earth, none of the surroundings remained.

There was only a single descending finger!

Their bodies involuntarily flew toward that finger.

Atop Tang Luo's index finger, motes of light glimmered faintly, vaguely forming a vortex shape.

Thereafter, all the cultivators were like moths flying into fire, bodies turning into streaks of light, flying toward Tang Luo's finger.

He extended his hand, pointed out, withdrew.

The movement was not fast, even carrying a somewhat leisurely feel.

When Tang Luo withdrew his finger.

The surrounding heaven and earth cleared for a moment, empty and vast, silent, only the sound of rolling sea waves.

As well as a group of lucky survivors stunned like wooden chickens, not daring to move a muscle.