Chapter 251

Wang Yu was enveloped by a gentle breeze, his feet hovering several feet above the ground as he sped through the misty sea.

Suddenly his eyes brightened—a small earthen mound, several zhang tall, appeared ahead, its stench of blood overwhelming; the ground was littered with the corpses of spider beasts, at least forty to fifty of them.

Seeing this, Wang Yu was not alarmed but delighted—it meant he had indeed escaped the original restriction.

But before he could think further, the white mist ahead churned violently, and a pale red wooden boat silently glided out, upon which stood two graceful figures.

Seeing someone there, both women turned their beautiful eyes toward Wang Yu at once.

"It's you."

"It's really you."

The two women exclaimed in unison.

One woman was none other than Ye Zhen, the brocade-clad woman who wielded snakes; the other was the joyful palace matron who used the Heavenly Fragrance Fan.

Both were true disciples of the demonic path—one had escaped with her life from his hands, the other had witnessed him slaughter two demonic true disciples in rapid succession.

Now, encountering him suddenly, their lovely faces displayed a spectrum of emotions, and both froze rigid atop the flying boat.

In the joyful palace matron's hand, a crystal ball was clearly held.

Wang Yu glanced at the crystal ball in her hand, his eyes narrowing slightly; with a single flick of his wrist, a long blade of cyan and crimson appeared in his grasp.

"Go!"

No one knew which of the two women cried out sharply!

From the matron's sleeve flew a blood-red talisman, which ignited instantly in the wind, wrapping her slender form in a swirl of crimson light before she shot backward into the mist like a falling star.

The brocade-clad woman Ye Zhen swiftly pulled a deep yellow pearl from her bosom and slammed it hard against the ground.

A dull *thud* echoed.

A massive pale yellow serpent shadow emerged amid swirling yellow light, without a word, it swallowed the woman whole and plunged into the nearby earthen mound, vanishing from sight.

Wang Yu, who had been about to activate his breathing technique, froze in surprise.

But after a moment's thought, he did not pursue the two women; instead, he formed a hand seal, and several strands of white cloud drifted over his body, his form instantly dissolving into a faint shadow before he flickered and shot off in another direction.

Although within this array, the positioning crystal ball would likely be disrupted by the restrictions and function poorly as it did outside, now that he had been discovered by demonic cultivators, he could no longer linger here—he must exit the great array as soon as possible.

…

In a corner of the ruined temple wall.

The two monks, Yuan Ming and Yuan Tong, were whispering to each other as faint shadows, occasionally glancing toward the towering, prominent stupa at the temple's center.

"Younger brother, are you certain something is strongly calling to you from that stupa? Could it be your imagination?" asked the tall, thin monk Yuan Ming.

"Senior brother, I am certain. Not only do I feel something calling me, I now also sense that everything here feels familiar—as if I had been here long ago.

In fact, the instant I saw this stupa, its internal structure and layout appeared clearly in my mind." The young monk Yuan Tong replied, frowning deeply.

"That is indeed intriguing. According to the artifact bestowed by our Ancestor, Master Jialan's Fan Shen Fa Ti should also be within this stupa." Yuan Ming nodded thoughtfully, then shook the string of thumb-sized pale yellow Buddhist prayer beads wrapped around his wrist.

With a soft *clack-clack-clack*, the entire string of beads floated up automatically, forming a triangle that pointed straight toward the direction of the gray stupa.

"Senior brother, could it be the Fan Shen Fa Ti calling to me?" Yuan Tong hesitated, then asked.

"I don't know. But do you still remember how that demon repeatedly fought us, gained the upper hand each time, yet always retreated? Especially the last time—it nearly forced me to break my seal." The tall, thin monk countered.

"Of course I remember. That demon's behavior was truly strange—I still don't understand what's going on." Yuan Tong's face was full of confusion.

"Though I don't know the exact reason, there is no doubt—you are a person with karmic roots. The Fan Shen Fa Ti or something else within this stupa is deeply connected to you." Yuan Ming replied without hesitation.

"So you mean…?" Yuan Tong's heart leapt at these words.

"Our purpose in entering this secret realm was to find its treasures. If fate has brought you this connection, you must claim it without hesitation." The tall, thin monk declared firmly.

Yuan Tong nodded vigorously in agreement.

"Interesting, interesting—I feel as if the treasure within this stupa is also deeply connected to me." At that moment, a lazy voice emerged from a dense thicket beside them.

"Who's there?"

The tall, thin monk was startled, but immediately lifted his leg—silver lion shadows appeared on his thigh, and a blinding white leg-shadow slashed forward like a blade.

A thunderous *boom* erupted.

The thicket exploded into a deep crater.

"Hmph, bald monks—you truly wish to die quickly? How dare you not let me finish speaking." As the words ended, a faint scent of blood drifted behind them; a blood-enshrouded figure suddenly materialized, its blood-red eyes staring coldly at the two monks.

"Blood cultivation art—Master, are you from the Demon Luo Sect?" The tall, thin monk shifted instantly to block Yuan Tong, his expression grim as he stared at the crimson figure.

The young monk also looked on in surprise at the newly appeared demonic cultivator.

"Hmph, I've long heard Buddhist arts are profoundly mysterious and can suppress our demonic techniques. Now that we've met, I must see for myself."

"Come at me together—I'll give you the time of one incense stick. Within that time, either I kill you both, or you kill me." The crimson figure spoke darkly, then shook his sleeve; blood mist surged toward the two monks.

"Bold words indeed, Senior Brother—let me handle this demonic scoundrel first!" Yuan Tong's eyes flashed, stepping forward from behind the tall monk; his body suddenly swelled, his skin covered in dense pale golden patterns as he punched straight into the blood mist.

A *whoosh* sounded.

A pale golden gale erupted from his fist, scattering the oncoming blood mist.

"This man seems unusual—Younger brother, be careful." The tall, thin monk hesitated, then remained where he stood.

"You? What are you thinking, little monk?" The crimson figure within the mist chuckled lowly, shook his sleeve, and a gray-white human skin flew out, instantly transforming into a blurred gray-white human shadow amid the blood mist.

The gray-white shadow moved all four limbs, charging at the young monk; *thud-thud*—they clashed in fist and foot combat, neither gaining the upper hand.

As the tall, thin monk watched, a flicker of surprise crossed his face—then suddenly, a wave of blood surged before him, and a faint crimson shadow appeared mysteriously at his very doorstep, lunging toward his body.