Chapter 440: A Hundred Zhang of Compassion, Every Step Produces a Lotus

The river breeze blew.

The bright sun shone high.

"Will I die here?"

Looking at the figure in black drifting three zhang away, Zhao Kai's heart plummeted into an abyss. His entire body turned cold, and he could not help but have a thought he had never had before.

This operation had committed two major mistakes.

The first was not anticipating that the strength of this young man in black before him would be so terrifying, slaughtering experts like earthen dogs and chickens.

If he guessed correctly, his Grand Master and the two Land Immortals had likely met with misfortune. Even if they hadn't lost their lives, they were trapped and unable to provide assistance for the time being.

The second was taking the water route; the experts and elite soldiers he brought were separated on different large ships, unable to provide timely support. Even if he wanted to flee, it had become exceptionally troublesome.

However, he was still far from a dead end.

He still had his Second Master.

There were still two hundred and sixteen elite retainers and death-sworn soldiers on the ship.

Zhao Kai clenched his fists and took a deep breath. Furthermore, he was an Imperial Prince, and he carried immense Luck; others might not necessarily dare to kill him.

Just as the two sides were in a standoff, the two hundred and sixteen retainers who had been guarding the perimeter and corners of the large ship appeared, surrounding Zhao Kai.

Unlike the experts recruited previously with fame and wealth, these retainers were carefully trained death-sworn soldiers, fearless of death and loyal to Bu'er.

At this moment, Zhao Kai finally breathed a sigh of relief.

The old monk in black, however, sighed softly, as if sensing the sharp, undisguised killing intent of Yu Liancheng. He used a great Fotu divine ability to continuously transmit secret messages to the young man in black, who stood with his hands behind his back and two swords circling him.

"Anyone can die; this old monk can die, Han Shengxuan can die, these two hundred and sixteen retainers can die, but His Highness cannot die."

"He cannot die? Yet others can die; where is the equality of all living beings you speak of?" Yu Liancheng smiled playfully: "It is only natural for him to kill me, but I cannot kill him; what kind of bullshit logic is that. I think you should stop chanting Fotu; quibbling and pestering suits you better."

The monk in black pressed his palms together, his brows and eyes lowered: "If the benefactor insists on killing Zhao Kai today, who carries an imperial mandate and possesses immense Luck, do you know what the outcome will be?"

"Then do you know what the outcome of offending me will be?"

Yu Liancheng stood with his hands behind his back and took another step forward. It was a seemingly light and breezy sentence, yet the world was suddenly filled with killing intent.

When this sentence was finished, the clear blue sky and white clouds gradually darkened; large patches of overcast clouds spread out, and black clouds rolled in, obscuring the light of heaven.

Truly, when a person unleashes killing intent, the heavens and earth are overturned.

"Kill!"

"Kill him!!"

Under the shroud of shadows, the two hundred and thirteen retainers felt increasingly oppressed.

Upon receiving Zhao Kai's order, the "clanging" sound of swords and blades being drawn merged into one. The guards vied to charge out, but they were not like the scattered, disorganized experts from before. Instead, they formed units, five men to a squad, ten men to a platoon, keeping their distance and coordinating with one another.

Amidst the heaven-shaking shouts of battle, they closed in on Yu Liancheng step by step.

Yu Liancheng's expression was calm; far from retreating, he walked toward Zhao Kai step by step.

Two sword lights circled above and below his body, weaving together to form an airtight net.

Swish, swish, swish!!

Sword light shot in all directions, and the battle formation was torn apart in an instant.

Anyone who approached him was cut down like leeks, row after row.

His posture was relaxed and casual, calm and composed, as if even Heaven Collapsing and Earth Splitting before him were not enough to move him.

In reality, it was not difficult for Yu Liancheng to kill Zhao Kai; he only needed to urge the "Red Flail" to carry out an assassination, and even the old monk in black would be unable to stop it.

However, only this kind of frontal breakthrough appeared shocking.

There were many experts on the other ships, but seeing the bloody slaughter before them, they could not help but stop their steps, unwilling to participate.

"This person's Flying Sword Technique can already rival Deng Taie; he is not someone we can deal with. In today's battle, I, Li, know I am no match, so I will take my leave first..."

On another ship, an expert supported by Zhao Kai shook his arms and flew toward the shore, unwilling to get involved in what was to come.

With him leaving, many experts who had been promised great benefits by Zhao Kai also fled one after another.

In the end, one's own life was more important.

On the other side, the figures before Yu Liancheng grew increasingly sparse. After harvesting row after row of retainers, the remaining ones, even as death-sworn soldiers, finally collapsed and fled in all directions.

Now, only one person remained before Zhao Kai.

—The black-clad monk Yang Taisui.

There were also experts who had not yet left who shook their heads secretly; this Zhao Kai was also something, pretending to be a hero. If he had fled earlier while Murong Tonghuang was dealing with the retainers and guards, he might not have lacked a path to survival.

But they did not know that Zhao Kai had the same thought, only every time he wanted to flee, a cold killing intent would lock onto him.

It was as if if he took a single step, he would immediately be pierced through by the opponent's Flying Sword.

The old monk in black had a calm expression and his palms pressed together, but it was a pity his appearance was a bit fierce, lacking compassion, as if he were an evil tiger in the world.

Facing the two small swords flying and stabbing toward him, the old monk in black spat out two words calmly: "Return to Origin."

One saw him hold one hand upright in a palm at his chest, while one sleeve swept and curled like a cloud hanging from the sky; it was light and breezy, yet filled with a Zen mystery difficult to describe in words, instantly rolling Li Jing and Red Flail into his sleeve.

Sword Qi surged, and the entire sleeve immediately billowed out.

A moment later, a "chi" sound of tearing silk rang out, and a long gash appeared on the wide sleeve, with Sword Qi pouring out.

The old monk in black's expression changed slightly, and then the entire sleeve burst open, the fabric Broken like butterflies in flight; the two sword lights escaped, turned in mid-air, and stabbed toward Zhao Kai once more.

The old monk in black flipped his palms, as if overturning the universe, and then grabbed forward. His palm transformed into a cage, trapping the two Flying Swords within two feet of his palms; no matter how the Sword Qi surged like a rainbow, they still could not escape.

However, Yang Taisui was having a hard time.

The Red Flail sword spun too fast, swift as lightning. If he was the slightest bit careless, it could jump out of his palm, and the monk in black needed to spend immense effort to keep it trapped.

The other sword was slightly slower in speed, but extremely sharp; one careless move could leave his palm dripping with blood, or even have his five fingers severed at the root.

At this moment, the monk in black appeared light and breezy, leisurely and comfortable. But in reality, within the square inch of his palms, there was killing intent at every turn, as if he were clutching a string of thunder that did not know when it would explode.

"I fear today is dangerous."

The old monk in black's life could be called magnificent, but today was more dangerous than any time before.

Yet he refused to let go of even the slightest hint of a crisis, speaking indifferently while controlling the two small swords.

"Murong Tonghuang, you are young and possess astonishing talent in the Martial Dao; you are destined to inherit the position of Wang Xianzhi, become the new Martial Emperor, and suppress the Edo for sixty years. Yet now you have gone astray, contentious and bloodthirsty. His Highness carries great Luck, and few in this world can compare to him. If you harm His Highness, you will surely suffer the backlash of that Luck. If you do not restrain your baleful aura, as time goes on, let alone becoming a Land Immortal, ascension will be hopeless. Even if you enter the Heavenly Phenomenon Realm, you will be struck by heavenly lightning and die a wretched death. Do you still not know to repent and turn back now?!"

For the final two words, "turn back," Yang Taisui once again shouted with the Fotu Lion's Roar. The thunderous sound rolled and surged, upright and vast, enough to make a Demon lay down his butcher's knife and a prodigal son turn back and awaken...

The sound waves transformed into rolling surges of air, a hurricane blowing fiercely, causing Yu Liancheng's black hair to flow and his robes to snap loudly.

He merely picked at his ear and laughed mockingly: "Like a dog barking. Everyone has their own Dao; whoever provokes me, they shouldn't expect an easy time—that is my Dao. A mere Heavenly Phenomenon Realm, I enter it whenever I please."

The Red Flail and Li Jing swords shuttled back and forth, wreaking havoc in Yang Taisui's palms. The cage formed by his palms was already crumbling, and seven or eight small cuts had been sliced into Yang Taisui's palms, dripping with blood.

Yu Liancheng did not further urge the Flying Swords, instead saying with keen interest: "You wish to persuade me, yet I also have some words I would like to say to you."

"I am all ears," said Yang Taisui.

He was not afraid of wasting time; on the contrary, in this situation of certain defeat, the more time consumed, the more likely a turning point might appear. The villains in novels and scripts who loved to talk nonsense were often defeated exactly like this.

Yu Liancheng said indifferently: "If I recall correctly, you are a descendant of the Yang Clan, a top-tier clan of Dongyue. You are a scholar of profound learning, well-versed in the hundred schools, and together with Xu Xiao, one civil and one martial, you served as the right-hand man to the former Emperor. Some say that although you wear a monk's robe, deep down you are still a Legalist, practicing the arts of vertical and horizontal alliances. Others say your Buddhist Dharma is exquisite and you could be the current leader of the Buddhist faith."

Yang Taisui said: "The world offers undeserved praise; it cannot be taken as truth."

"It is indeed not to be taken as truth," Yu Liancheng said indifferently: "To my mind, you are two-faced. Neither a true Fotu nor a true Legalist. As a Fotu, you do not save all living beings or spread compassion. As a Legalist, you lack the resolve to make decisions, drawing a circle on the ground as a prison, trapping others and yourself. The so-called 'Number One Regretful Man in the World' is nothing but a joke. It is precisely because of this that you fell from the Heavenly Phenomenon Realm and cannot attain ascension."

Yang Taisui shuddered, then laughed heartily: "Put that way, I suppose I have failed at everything. Fortunately, I can still block you for a while."

Having said this, he prepared to lift his hand to toss Zhao Kai away, then sacrifice his life to obstruct Yu Liancheng for a moment.

"It is a pity you cannot stop me."

Hum! Hum!

As Yu Liancheng urged his mind, amidst the trembling sound of the Flying Swords, blood splattered.

Two fingers of the black-robed old monk were sliced off, and he could no longer control the two Flying Swords, which both flew out of his grasp.

The latter traced two silver-bright arcs in the air, carrying an unstoppable momentum, and stabbed directly toward the black-robed old monk.

The black-robed old monk's intact left hand flicked repeatedly, like a lotus blooming, constantly striking the bodies of the two small swords. There was another series of clanging sounds, and by the time he blocked this round of attacks, his left hand was also dripping with blood.

Seeing the Flying Swords arc through the air to strike again, Yang Taisui sneered, faintly revealing the ferocious and vicious look of his youth: "Little Murong, you go too far. Do you really think this monk is a vegetarian?"

The black-robed old monk stomped on the deck, his beard and hair standing on end, and shouted: "Hundred Zhang Compassion!"

The ink-black monk's robe draped over him was unfastened, and with a flick of his fingers, it rose like a black cloud to meet the two Flying Swords.

The monk's robe grew as it met the wind.

Like a canopy rising from the ground.

Ancient books once stated that there was a treasure tree planted by an immortal on Mount Zhongnan, towering into the clouds, without branches or leaves.

As the Imperial Tutor of two dynasties, even if his cultivation realm was draining away like a torrential river, how could he not have a trump card? And this monk's robe named "Hundred Zhang Compassion" was one of his hidden treasures.

The monk's robe billowed in the wind, instantly reaching several meters in length, yet it carried hundreds of meters of rolling black clouds, completely enveloping the two Flying Swords.

"A fine treasure, it is mine now," Yu Liancheng's eyes lit up.

Yang Taisui snorted coldly, closed his eyes, and a vast, magnificent aura suddenly erupted from his entire body.

Thump, thump, thump...

Then, he walked toward Yu Liancheng step by step. With every step he took, the entire ship swayed, and a mark of a Fotu's lotus was branded onto the deck.

With every step taken, Yang Taisui's aura dissipated by a fraction.

This was the supreme Fotu divine ability, Seven Steps Lotus.

When the sixth step was taken, not only were there six lotus marks on the deck, but countless golden lotuses surged from thin air, like a Heavenly Maiden scattering flowers, and as if five hundred Lohans were bestowing their blessing.

It was filled with a sacred aura.

The black-robed old monk's face was full of compassion as he looked at the black-clad youth less than an arm's length away, and finally took the seventh step.

It was also the final step.

The seventh lotus bloomed quietly.

In an instant, the wind and clouds changed color. Yang Taisui's expression was withered to the extreme, but his entire body glowed with a sacred golden luster, carrying a vast and magnificent meaning, as if he had attained the fruit of a Fotu. The brilliant Jinguang illuminated the entire river and waterfall, actually turning this killing field into a sacred land of the Fotu.

"Amitabha."

Amidst the sound of the Fotu's name, Yang Taisui sent a palm strike toward Yu Liancheng from afar.

"Have you forgotten? It is not just my Sword Technique that I am famous for."

Yu Liancheng stood calmly, his brows raised, and his originally composed aura changed abruptly, giving the impression that a prehistoric beast was hidden within his body, violent and tyrannical.

His Qi and Blood soared to the sky, rolling like blood-red smoke. The scorching high temperature almost ignited the air, turning the surrounding dozens of zhang into a furnace, and the water surface steamed with mist, creating a hazy fog.

A slender hand was slowly withdrawn from his sleeve, five fingers curled into a fist, and as the fist struck, the wind and clouds moved, smashing heavily toward Yang Taisui's palm like a meteorite.

Bang!!

A dull sound rang out.

Everyone's heartbeat seemed to skip a beat.

But after this strike, apart from that dull sound, nothing unusual seemed to happen.

This was because the power exerted by these two had been completely contained within that single fist and palm, without the slightest leakage.

Soldiers and experts on several large ships all cast their gazes over.

A moment later, Yu Liancheng slowly withdrew his hand and looked indifferently at the black-robed monk opposite him.

Yang Taisui pressed his palms together, quiet as a grave.

Yu Liancheng shook his head, extended his palm, and the monk's robe named "Hundred Zhang Compassion" drifted into his hand, then with a thought, he stored it into his Storage Space.

"I said, you cannot stop me."

He glanced at the Yang Taisui before him once more and blew a light breath; the figure opposite seemed to have suffered millions of years of weathering, crumbling into countless specks of dust that scattered into the river water.

"However, you did have the resolve to abandon everything; I suppose I misjudged you."