Chapter 252

A loud "bang" echoed.

One of the Buddhist beads on Yuanming's wrist suddenly shattered, and a semi-transparent light barrier appeared on the tall, thin monk's body, its surface swirling with countless pale golden Sanskrit characters.

The faint blood shadow struck it and was instantly repelled, as if encountering its mortal enemy.

"Blood Shadow Technique—you're Zhu Wuyan of the Demon Luo Sect!"

Upon seeing this, the tall, thin monk's face turned pale. He roared, and dense pale silver patterns surfaced on his face; he shook his shoulders and slammed two fists through the air toward the blood shadow.

"Puff." "Puff."

Two silver lion-headed illusions surged violently from his fists.

"So this is the Buddhist cultivation art—somewhat interesting."

The blood shadow formed by Zhu Wuyan twisted its body and vanished instantly from its original spot.

The two silver lion-headed illusions slammed into the surrounding void, exploding in blinding silver light; the air temperature spiked instantly, and nearby flowers and grass withered and turned blackened and yellow.

Almost simultaneously, blood-red winds howled from all directions, and a faint blood shadow flickered in and out of sight within the gales.

Yuan Tong, who had been fighting the gray-white figure, froze at the name "Zhu Wuyan," retracted his fist, and stepped back two paces in shock.

He had long heard of the reputation of this madman from the Demon Luo Sect.

The gray-white figure also retreated at this moment, vanishing into the blood wind, while Zhu Wuyan's blood shadow disappeared entirely within the gales.

The next instant, violent winds erupted around them; crimson wind walls materialized and rolled inward, coalescing into a towering crimson hurricane that tightly trapped the two monks at its center.

At that moment, a cold voice emerged from within the wind.

"Blood Absorption Great Art."

No sooner had the words been spoken than the two monks felt a strange suction force emanating from the surrounding void—their blood instantly boiled, surging wildly outward as if alive, their skin turning crimson as if about to burst and spray blood.

The two monks chanted Buddhist mantras repeatedly, yet within moments their faces flushed red, and dense networks of blood veins surfaced on their skin.

Only because both had achieved substantial Body Refinement were they still alive; ordinary Qi Condensation disciples would have already exploded from blood loss by now.

The tall, thin monk hurled several defensive talismans in rapid succession, forming multiple layers of colorful light shields around them; then, with grim resolve, he crushed several beads from his wrist rosary, turning them into a thick, milky-white light barrier.

But their blood continued to boil violently, rendering the barriers largely ineffective.

The two monks pushed their Body Refinement arts to their limits—their skin turned gold and silver, and continuous cracking sounds echoed from within their bodies, yet their veins still bulged grotesquely, and their expressions grew ghastly.

Just as the tall, thin monk drew a deep breath and solemnly pulled a white bone fragment from his sleeve, preparing to act—

Figures shifted within the hurricane, and three gray-white figures emerged eerily—each had only one arm, yet held in their other hand a blood-drenched long blade.

The three blades twisted and blurred in bloodlight, faint black mist coiling around them, occasionally emitting unsettling, maddening cries.

"Blood-Transforming Demon Blade! Zhu Wuyan, you madman—do you truly intend to fight us to the death? The Golden Diamond Temple has no shortage of methods to subdue demons and exterminate evil!"

Seeing the three gray-white figures wielding the crimson blades, the tall, thin monk's eyelids twitched violently; he roared furiously at the enemy.

"Blood-Transforming Demon Blade—this is the famed demonic technique of Blood Smoke Old Ancestor!" Yuan Tong also gasped, quickly glancing at the three blades, then swiftly pulled a pale green jade scepter from his sleeve.

"Hmph, you two bald monks are unlucky. My mood's been foul these past two days—I was looking for someone to vent on."

"You two seem to have some skill. Show me whatever tricks you've got." Zhu Wuyan's voice echoed coldly from within the crimson hurricane, thick with malice.

The tall, thin monk Yuanming grunted, lips barely moving as he whispered to his younger brother.

"Brother, put away your artifact—this Blood-Transforming Demon Blade is forged from corrupted blood and specifically corrupts all artifacts. Let me handle it."

"I'll hold off Zhu Wuyan. You wait for an opening and use a second-rank talisman to break this Blood Absorption Great Art. Once this seal is shattered and we're free of hindrance, I'll immediately unseal my power and kill this madman with Foundation Establishment techniques."

"What? Brother, you're going to unseal your power now? It hasn't come to this yet!" Yuan Tong replied in a whisper, his face paling.

"This fellow is infamous—even ranked above several Foundation Establishment cultivators in the Demon Luo Sect. Standard tactics won't work. Even if we could temporarily drive him off, he'd just keep harassing us."

"The treasure is right before us—we cannot let this thief ruin your chance." Yuanming replied decisively, crushing the bone fragment in his hand.

A burst of golden light appeared, accompanied by resonant Sanskrit chants; the light rolled and condensed into a golden staff.

The staff was half a zhang long, its middle section perfectly smooth, its two ends covered in dense silver Sanskrit inscriptions. The tall, thin monk seized it in hand and strode forward toward the three gray-white figures.

Seeing this, Yuan Tong could only silently chant a Buddhist mantra, then tucked away the jade scepter and pulled from his chest a worn, pale yellow scripture page.

Hidden within the crimson hurricane, Zhu Wuyan sneered, revealing in his hand a black, broken hilt—its blade reduced to less than half its original length.

At that moment, thunder roared from high above.

Dozens of silver-white lightning bolts, as thick as arms, fell from the sky without warning, striking the crimson hurricane.

With a continuous "Boom! Boom! Boom!" the crimson hurricane collapsed instantly, as if encountering its ultimate nemesis.

Zhu Wuyan leapt skyward in shock, but another thunderclap struck—a lightning bolt as wide as a bowl instantly slammed into his blood shadow, leaving him no time to dodge.

A scream of agony!

Zhu Wuyan's blood mist shattered completely; his body turned charred black and crashed heavily from midair—but just before hitting the ground, his form rolled into blood mist once more and vanished into the nearby earth.

"Hmm? This young cultivator has some ability—survived a Demonic Subduing Thunderbolt and still had the strength to flee? Has the power of modern Qi Condensation disciples grown so astonishing?"

As Yuanming and Yuan Tong stared in shock, an old monk in a kasaya drifted slowly down from the sky, his face serene and benevolent, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of surprise.

Yuanming and Yuan Tong exchanged glances, both filled with suspicion.

Finally, Yuanming exhaled softly, gripped the golden staff in one hand, and bowed slightly from afar to the old monk, his tone cautious:

"Amitabha. Thank you, Venerable Master, for your aid. May I ask… who are you?"