Chapter 502: Night Battle, Pursuers

In the darkness, a monk first stepped forward.

The monk looked peculiar.

His kasaya was worn and tattered; he wore a conical hat, and his body was bound with chains linked to a series of steel nails, deeply embedded in his flesh.

The wounds had long since scabbed over.

Clank! Clank!

With every step, the iron chains clattered.

It was not only the chains that rang—the staff in his hand did too.

The upper portion of this staff was cast from tin and iron, shaped like a stupa, with a large ring attached, beneath which hung several smaller rings.

This was the "Scepter of Tin," one of the eighteen possessions of a bhikkhu.

The Sutra of the Tin Scepter states: "To hold the tin scepter manifests supreme wisdom and embodies the foundation of merit," hence all masters carry it when wandering.

When a renowned monk takes lodging somewhere, it is called "staying with the scepter" or "planting the scepter," meaning he sets the staff down at that place.

Beneath the conical hat, his face was equally grotesque.

The monk had sewn his own eyes shut with needle and thread, the stitches so tight not a breath could pass—making one's skin crawl.

Li Yan's expression turned grave. "Master, where do you come from?"

This was a Vinaya sect monk.

The Buddhist schools were numerous; in Shenzhou, those connected to the Xuan sect were primarily the Chan, Esoteric, Lotus, and Vinaya schools.

The Vinaya sect was famed for its strict adherence to precepts.

Practicing according to the precepts, their spiritual attainments and techniques far surpassed ordinary cultivators—extremely formidable, yet profoundly reclusive.

Their ancestral temple was Jingye Temple in Chang'an; even during the chaos in Chang'an, no Vinaya monk had been seen, revealing their character.

This Vinaya monk's sewn-shut eyes were no ordinary matter.

Hearing his question, the monk slammed his scepter into the ground.

Thud!

A muffled boom echoed.

The monk slowly raised his head, as if those sewn-shut eyes could clearly see his form.

He spoke calmly: "Master Li, since you already know, why ask again? Hand over the item."

As he spoke, eight more figures emerged—all white-robed monks, holding precept knives, their gazes cold, surrounding Li Yan from all sides.

"Such heavy killing intent!"

Li Yan's eyes grew cold as he scanned the surroundings. "Buddhism forbids killing. You are Vinaya disciples—why stain yourselves with worldly blood?"

The monk with sewn-shut eyes replied calmly: "What is not heard is not seen."

Li Yan laughed. "What kind of twisted Buddha do you worship?"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than he exploded forward—dirt sprayed in all directions, and he vanished from his original spot.

Clang!

Before the sprayed dirt had even landed, sparks flashed far away.

Li Yan had now reached Hua Jing; his internal force was harmonious and fluid, controlled at will, shifting effortlessly.

At this level, before the sound of a strike faded, the body was already near; technique transitions held no lag—even in sleep, one could open the eyes and kill.

To his surprise, these monks were no slower.

In the instant he swung his blade, several monks leapt and crossed paths, raising three precept knives simultaneously to block.

All these monks had entered An Jing.

Perhaps one of them lacked his strength, but with three blades crossing, they effortlessly blocked Duchen Dao.

Worse still, the three blades twisted and shifted in unison, like a shackle, locking his blade in place.

Clang!

Blade light flashed, piercing out from beneath the armpits of the three monks.

Any ordinary man in this situation would either fail to react and be pierced through the heart, or be forced to drop his blade and retreat.

But Li Yan, blessed with divine powers, perceived everything around him with perfect clarity.

He shook his shoulder, flexed his wrist.

The monks' expressions shifted slightly.

They felt the horizontal blade in his hand suddenly change its force—humming, vibrating, darting left and right like a furious wild ox.

In an instant, it broke free of the shackle.

Li Yan Shunshi pulled his blade back, sweeping it downward.

Clang!

A crisp sound rang out—the precept knife shattered.

But at the same moment, a whistling sound came from behind.

A tin scepter tore through the air.

It was the monk with sewn-shut eyes.

He hurled his scepter—not only with astonishing force, but also ringing with a jingle that pierced the mind, unsettling the spirit and churning the blood.

It carried the momentum of thunder and lightning; even Li Yan had to retreat.

Yet the monk moved just as swiftly.

His feet traced linked steps, each step blooming a lotus, following closely behind the flying scepter.

Li Yan bent his body, sidestepping—the scepter, charged with terrifying force, shot toward the monks behind him.

But in the instant he dodged, the monks simultaneously struck with palms—palms turned iron-blue: the famed Iron Sand Palm.

Clang! A thunderous crash.

The scepter was blasted back along its original path.

The sewn-eyed monk instantly caught the staff with his right hand, swung it in a massive arc, and slammed the nine-ringed head straight at Li Yan.

Simultaneously, the other monks attacked.

Their precept knives flashed, sealing off every escape route from all sides.

"Hum!"

Li Yan roared, unleashing the Great Cloud Thunder Sound, and with a flick of his horizontal blade, executed the Su Qin Backsword.

Ding ding dang dang!

He blocked the blades behind him, while simultaneously crossing his left foot, lowering his body to dodge the scepter, shifting his shoulder sideways, and thrusting his left fist upward in a Heaven-Piercing Cannon.

A muffled grunt rang out—the sewn-eyed monk staggered backward, his face flushing red then pale, yet his expression remained unchanged.

Seizing the moment, Li Yan kicked off like stepping through mud, leaping clear of the encirclement, spun his blade in a flourish, and stared coldly at them all. "Nine Linked Rings Formation?"

The Nine Linked Rings Formation was a refined martial array.

The "Nine Linked Rings" originally referred to a toy—nine interlocked rings; this formation mirrored it, with nine rings cleverly interwoven.

Through skillful manipulation, one could not only separate and rejoin them, but also form countless shapes—it had been popular since ancient times.

The "Nine Linked Rings Formation" operated on the same principle.

It offered countless variations and could tightly trap a person within the array, making it a classic formation for outnumbering and restraining enemies.

This was Li Yan's first time facing an array used against him.

Though individually, none of them were his match.

Yet together, nine of them forced him into perilous straits.

Thud!

The blind monk slammed his scepter into the ground again, bowed, and spoke in a deep voice: "This monk Huiyuan bears no ill will toward you, Master, but having received the Prince's grace, I must come here to block you."

"Master, that item is not yours—why cling to it?"

"Surrender it? Hahaha…"

Li Yan laughed. "You monks are amusing. A weapon used to harm you—do you expect me to return it with reverence?"

"Why surrender? On what grounds?"

This was why he refused.

In the martial world, sometimes one fights for nothing more than a single breath of pride.

Never mind that the "Ruyi Treasure Pearl" was priceless—this matter alone could not be conceded. Otherwise, his spirit would remain choked, and the next few years would be unbearable.

"Master, your attachment is too strong—it is not good."

Huiyuan no longer urged him. He lifted his scepter again, swung his arms with full force, and hurled it roaring toward Li Yan.

Simultaneously, the other eight monks surged forward from all sides, blades flashing, killing intent unmasked.

Li Yan narrowed his eyes and raised his horizontal blade.

These monks were orthodox Buddhist disciples—somehow serving the Shu Prince's orders, coming to trouble him.

Presumably, the monks themselves knew this was dishonorable.

Hence, when he asked twice, they refused to reveal their origins.

Li Yan had originally intended to hold back, but seeing these monks' insolence, he now felt a killing intent rise within him.

He fixed his gaze on the flying scepter, not blinking. Suddenly, he spun, and his blade slashed downward with sudden force.

Crack!

The scepter—clearly a precious artifact—was cleanly severed at its middle.

At the same moment, the other monks attacked.

Shhh! Shhh!

A piercing wail rose up.

Two Soul-Severing Flying Knives shot out from Li Yan's waist pouch, one to the left, one to the right, flashing rapidly around his body.

The first two monks to attack nearly had their heads pierced.

These monks had clearly studied his intelligence.

Seeing the lightning-fast Soul-Severing Flying Knives, their faces showed not a trace of surprise; they immediately retreated ten meters away.

That distance was precisely the range of the Soul-Grabbing Chain.

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"Om Mani Padme Hum!"

"Om Mani Padme Hum!"

The monks simultaneously formed hand seals and chanted the mantra.

At the same time, the Buddhist prayer beads on their chests trembled violently.

This was the Six-Syllable Great Bright Mantra, the heart mantra of Guanyin Bodhisattva.

Chanting this mantra could dissolve karmic obstacles, maintain a pure and clear mind, and also suppress enemies with sacred sound.

For instance, in Journey to the West, this mantra was used as the Tightening Headband to subdue the rebellious Sun Wukong.

As the monks chanted in unison, Li Yan immediately sensed danger.

With the mantra echoing, his Soul-Grabbing Chain technique grew sluggish—his movements slowed, and both the chain's grasp and control over the Soul-Severing Flying Knives lost all threat.

No wonder they dared come,

These bastards were prepared!

His Gangling had been exhausted, and with these monks' mantra countering the Soul-Grabbing Chain, and the Nine-Linked Array's overwhelming martial strength, they truly posed a threat to him.

Moreover, the heavenly lightning stored within the Soul-Grabbing Chain had been completely depleted—he had no more trump cards left.

"Hmph!"

Li Yan let out a cold snort and pressed forward with his knives.

At this point, only raw strength could save him.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

He directly overpowered them with force, leveraging the advantage of the Dust-Cutting Blade to shatter three more monk's staffs, while his left hand formed a seal and turned into a palm—electricity crackled violently as he met the Huiyuan monk's blow head-on.

This Huiyuan monk possessed profound Buddhist cultivation, his power Yidahuajin, and he also wielded Buddhist martial arts—his palm strike carried a faint metallic sheen.

It was the Southern Shaolin Great Golden Vajra Palm.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Three consecutive blows forced Li Yan to stagger backward.

Each step he took sent shards of stone flying.

It wasn't that his power was inferior—it was that Huiyuan's technique, called Tiger Pushing Mountain, involved gripping the ground with all ten toes and pushing both palms like moving a mountain, with force equivalent to a thousand jin.

Even though Li Yan used the Immortal Seal Technique to gradually dissipate the unstoppable palm force, he could not resist the sheer momentum of the push.

And Huiyuan monk fared even worse.

He violently retracted his palms—their skin returned to normal color, yet the palms were charred, and his arms trembled uncontrollably.

"Such potent lightning art…"

Huiyuan sighed, then suddenly raised his hand, grasped the thread sewn over his eyes, and ripped it sharply to both sides.

Instantly, blood streamed from his eyelids, staining his cheeks.

The monk paid no mind, speaking calmly: "Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, while practicing profound Prajna Paramita, saw that the five aggregates were all empty…"

As he spoke, he slowly opened his eyes.

Seeing his eyes, Li Yan froze.

These eyes held no strange color or heterochromia—only calmness and serenity, like the eyes of a Bodhisattva in a temple, filled with compassion.

In that moment, he felt weary of battle.

This sensation rose from within his heart, spreading to his limbs, leaving him languid, unable even to lift his arms.

Li Yan did not know that these men were indeed southern Buddhist disciples, who had come to assassinate him out of gratitude to the Wang Fu.

Huiyuan's Buddha Eye was a special technique—through strict precept observance and cultivation, he avoided seeing the world, relying instead on his ear-based spiritual sense to fight.

Like accumulating power, the moment the Buddha Eye opened, it unleashed a power of universal salvation—even the fiercest demons would abandon resistance.

This was Huiyuan's ultimate technique.

It was also the reason they dared come to kill him.

"Attack…"

Huiyuan sighed faintly, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on Li Yan.

The other monks immediately charged forward with their blades—slitting throats, piercing hearts, stabbing skulls—clearly aiming to kill Li Yan outright.

Their movements were swift, and they showed no defense whatsoever.

Huiyuan was their senior brother.

This technique had never failed, whether against demons or powerful foes.

But the instant they closed in, Li Yan's eyes suddenly flickered with a dark glow, and the Dust-Cutting Blade snapped upward.

Shhh!

Both Soul-Severing Flying Knives whistled simultaneously, one above, one below.

A series of wet thuds rang out—their temples were pierced through by the knives, blood spurted, and they collapsed dead.

Until their last breath, they did not know Li Yan's true trump card was the Great Luo Body—no matter how powerful the Buddha Eye technique, it ultimately targeted the soul.

As the Great Luo Body activated, cracks appeared with a crackle, but Li Yan fully recovered, breaking the spell's hold.

The flying knives darted, the Dust-Cutting Blade slashed left and right—in the span of a breath, six of the eight supporting monks were dead.

"Brother!"

Huiyuan finally changed expression and charged again.

Yet with half their numbers gone, they could no longer form the Nine-Linked Array.

Li Yan stepped with the Mud-Wading Step and brought the Dust-Cutting Blade down.

Zizizi—lightning flashed.

The last remaining monk, merely raising his blade to block, had his soul shaken by the yin thunder, his strength instantly drained—he was beheaded by Li Yan in one stroke.

"Aaah—!"

Huiyuan lost his composure, nearly going berserk—his eyes bloodshot, face twisted in rage, he roared as he unleashed the Great Golden Vajra Palm, slamming it toward Li Yan's head.

Yet the more furious he became, the more openings his technique revealed.

Li Yan didn't even look—he controlled the remaining Soul-Severing Flying Knife to kill the last monk, then unleashed both arms with full force.

A sharp crack echoed—the Huiyuan monk's arms were flung wide as if struck by a spinning wheel.

This was the Splitting-Hanging Palm: opening heaven's gate, opening earth's door.

"Split" meant to break open; "Hang" meant the Eight Trigrams.

Huiyuan's defenses were shattered—he was utterly without hope.

Li Yan swiftly formed a seal, clenched his fist—electricity crackled around it—and stepped forward, delivering a punch straight into Huiyuan's chest.

Boom!

Thunder roared, flesh and blood sprayed, bones shattered.

Huiyuan's chest was blasted clean through—a gaping hole, his shattered organs clearly visible—he had no chance of survival.

The monk was fierce—he used his last breath to smash his head like a hammer into Li Yan's skull.

Li Yan dragged his blade sideways, spun around, and passed the monk's side—the blade flashed, and a head flew high into the air.

Li Yan didn't even look—he wiped the blood from his blade.

Perhaps these monks acted out of desperation, but he had no interest in caring.

The Jianghu was like this: once involved in conflict, life and death were already on the table—any excuse was false.

But just as he was about to sheathe his blade, Li Yan suddenly turned, his expression grim, staring into the distant darkness, then without a word, he ran off with his blade.

The Wang Fu's actions were far faster than he imagined.

After the death of the "Ghost-Faced" group, the Wang Fu did not retreat—instead, they sent even more experts.

Along this journey, he had already fought five or six battles.

How had they found him?

Li Yan wondered, but did not slow his pace.

Hhh~

Soon after he left, dark winds stirred, black mist churned, frost formed on the ground, and countless footprints appeared…

(End of Chapter)