Chapter 266

Wang Yu heard this, his pupils instantly chilling, and without hesitation, he silently uttered, "Overclock."

The next moment, his five senses surged to their absolute limit, the surroundings slowing to an unnatural crawl, his mind entering super-mode; he drew a deep breath, his body swelling violently, his upper-body garments tearing apart to reveal a vivid tiger-head pattern on his back, and two tight, pale-black iron rings on his arms now exposed.

Almost simultaneously, he heard a rush of wind—beside him, the young monk shot forward like a gale, laughing loudly:

"Brother Wang, my talismans and artifacts were mostly destroyed before I was captured; only my hard-earned Golden Body Arhat Art remains for close combat. Let me test his strength without third-rank artifacts."

No sooner had he finished than Yuan Tong's entire body blazed with golden light, countless pale-gold patterns surging across his skin, his bald scalp radiating brilliant gold as if lacquered; he shook his arms and roared, "Eight-Armed Subduing Demon!"

"Swoosh." "Swoosh."

Amid piercing shrieks, eight golden arm shadows suddenly materialized in the surrounding void, striking different parts of the old monk's body at once.

"Heh, close combat."

The old monk merely chuckled, raising one hand to form a seal.

A thunderous boom.

Lightning arcs emerged from his body, then exploded under the seal's force, transforming into countless fine threads of electricity.

These threads shot outward in all directions, weaving into a net of electric light that shielded the old monk's entire body.

The eight arms struck the electric net—only causing it to ripple slightly, then vanished as if swallowed by the sea.

But Yuan Tong didn't hesitate—he lifted his foot, golden runes swirling from beneath it, coalescing into a massive golden footshadow that flashed forward and kicked the silver electric net.

"Crash."

The silver electric net shattered, but the golden footshadow was instantly snatched from midair by the old monk, who pinched it casually.

A thunderclap!

The golden footshadow disintegrated into fragments, dissolving amid flickering threads of lightning between his fingers.

At that instant, the old monk suddenly opened his mouth and spat out a streak of white light—blazingly fast, it vanished in a flash and pierced straight into Yuan Tong's face.

A loud metallic clang rang out.

Yuan Tong flew backward like a spinning top, instantly summoning golden arm shadows to strike—but the old monk merely shifted his body, evading them all.

Yet the old monk showed no triumph; instead, he looked at Yuan Tong with faint surprise.

Yuan Tong, now stopped, had both arms slightly charred, and a snow-white, hiltless short blade embedded in his brow—half its length sunk in—but strangely, not a drop of blood flowed.

Yuan Tong, unfazed, raised a hand and pulled the hiltless blade from his brow, glanced at it briefly, then squeezed it with both hands glowing golden.

"Crack."

The blade, seemingly razor-sharp, snapped cleanly in two, then was casually tossed to the ground.

"Golden Immortal Body? No—if this were true Buddhist Golden Immortal Body, this 'Tong Blade' couldn't have pierced your flesh at all. You've used some secret technique or artifact to temporarily enhance your body." The old monk's eyes flickered as he spoke.

"Old man, the true depth of our Golden Vajra Temple is beyond outsiders' grasp—take your time guessing."

"Brother Wang, this man is indeed far weaker than a true Foundation Establishment cultivator; he's only mastered a bit of Thunder Art, but he carries many treacherous artifacts—be cautious." Yuan Tong said coldly.

In this brief moment, the wounds on his arms and brow healed visibly before their eyes.

Then Yuan Tong roared at the old monk, unleashing a blinding white sonic wave from his mouth, and lunged forward again.

The old monk grunted, shifting his seal; the lightning net vanished from his skin. He flicked his sleeve, sending a blue talisman flying into his foot.

Instantly, blue lotus shadows bloomed beneath his feet; he moved again, and seven indistinct, identical old monk figures appeared around him, each blurred, each spitting a droplet of essence-blood, then forming a seal and pointing solemnly at Yuan Tong.

"Boom—boom—boom."

Seven thick lightning arcs shot out simultaneously, striking Yuan Tong in succession, exploding into massive bursts of thunderlight, transforming into a sea of lightning that drowned him completely.

The thunderous roar deafened the air; the blinding white glow from the lightning sea illuminated the entire tower as if it were daylight.

Each of these thunder arts was real!

Amid the furious barrage, Yuan Tong's figure could be seen staggering backward several steps, swaying violently before collapsing to the ground.

After casting this thunder art, the faces of all seven old monks aged noticeably.

Almost simultaneously, a piercing sound tore through the air—a crimson-and-green crystal streak flashed silently into view.

"Drawblade Technique."

A flat voice spoke; the crimson-and-green light blurred, and Wang Yu suddenly appeared behind one of the old monks, holding the crimson-and-green longblade.

"Clatter."

The old monk's head rolled off instantly, landing on the ground.

At the same moment, the other six old monk figures all turned pale—their blurred bodies dissolving into specks of blue light and vanishing.

But Wang Yu showed no relief—he spun around and slashed down with the crimson-and-green longblade, aiming to cleave the headless body in two.

"Boom."

The headless body shattered like a puppet, exploding into fragments that flew in all directions; the head bounced upward, shooting straight into the sky.

The crimson-and-green blade's light flashed and struck empty air.

Wang Yu's face darkened; he stomped one foot, a muffled boom cracking the blue stone floor beneath him—he leapt skyward, the crimson-and-green blade blurring into countless blades that swirled toward the flying head.

"Brat, you seek death."

The old monk's head, previously closed-eyed, suddenly opened its eyes—and like weathered stone, it disintegrated in the wind, becoming a cloud of black mist.

The crimson-and-green blade shadows flashed through the black mist—but could not harm it in the slightest.

Instead, the black mist surged downward, then coalesced again into a complete head.

At the same instant, the scattered limbs spun in midair and rushed toward the head.

"Boom." "Boom."

A series of muffled thuds later, the old monk stood whole and unharmed on the ground, his cold, sinister gaze fixed on Wang Yu in the air.

Nearby, the thunderlight faded—Yuan Tong now lay motionless on the ground, his body charred black like a lump of coal.