Chapter 508

Minamoto Choryo stepped into the mountain gate of Enryaku-ji.

"Li Miao's injuries are not yet healed. Positional warfare is barely acceptable, but his movements are restricted, and his speed won't be very fast... It is estimated that it will take at least an hour before he arrives."

"That's enough."

Enryaku-ji was the center of Japanese Buddhism. Even excluding the monk soldiers who went to Tang Zhaotisi to besiege Li Miao, the remaining monks were bustling, not empty at all.

Seeing Minamoto Choryo walk in wearing Shinto priest robes, the monks immediately surrounded him, their eyes full of hostility, and their weapons clanged on the ground.

The cooperation between Shintoism and Buddhism was unknown to these low-level monks. They just felt that Minamoto Choryo was an enemy coming to provoke them, so they carried their weapons and walked over.

"You guy, are—"

Minamoto Choryo shook his folding fan with a smile.

Swish!

Blood bloomed, heads flew up, and a patch of headless corpses fell.

Before the surrounding monks could react, Minamoto Choryo smiled kindly, flashed into the crowd, and instantly sprinkled a rain of blood.

The monks fell like wheat straw.

In terms of killing speed, he was actually not much slower than Li Miao.

It was just that this was Enryaku-ji after all. He had only been killing for the time it takes to drink a cup of tea when a roar came from afar.

"Bastard! Stop!"

A true Qi palm print slapped toward Minamoto Choryo from afar. Minamoto Choryo's eyes flashed, and he dodged it, completely ignoring the newcomer, turning around to slaughter the monks again.

"Stop!"

Another roar, already close at hand.

An old monk smashed down from mid-air, and while in mid-air, he punched toward Minamoto Choryo's crown. Before he landed, the wind of the punch pressed the monks within a few zhang radius to the ground, and the monks standing next to Minamoto Choryo were directly crushed, their bones broken, and before they could scream, the broken bones inserted into their internal organs, and they vomited blood and died.

Minamoto Choryo raised his fan and clashed with him in mid-air.

Bang!

In just an instant, the folding fan disintegrated.

Minamoto Choryo took the opportunity to retreat, a trace of blood flowing from the corner of his mouth—when it came to head-on clashes, there were few families in the entire Central Plains Jianghu that dared to contend with Shaolin. Enryaku-ji, which had the same inheritance as Shaolin, was naturally the same. Even if their realms were the same, he suffered internal injuries from this blow.

Fortunately, Buddhist inheritance was not famous for light-body techniques.

Minamoto Choryo flashed a few zhang away, taking advantage of the time before the old monk caught up to prepare to regulate his breath and heal his injuries.

But before he could finish exhaling a breath, a shrill wind sounded behind him again. A palm, a punch, a blade, and a sword, four attacks struck his back.

Great Tablet-Shattering Hand, Great Vajra Palm!

Breaking Precepts Blade Technique, Compassionate Sword Technique!

Minamoto Choryo barely turned around, slapped away the blade and sword, and blocked the punch, but was slapped on the shoulder by a palm, causing him to vomit blood and fly backward.

"Pfft—"

Minamoto Choryo was in mid-air, with nowhere to borrow force.

At this moment, the old monk who had smashed down from mid-air was also below him, having set up a punch stance, and punched him in the back.

Bang!

Minamoto Choryo was hit solidly by the punch, his spine let out a mournful sound, his ribs snapped one by one, and he vomited blood again in mid-air, landing on the ground.

Even though the old monk didn't want to kill him, this punch injured his heart pulse, making it difficult to recover for a while. He lay on the ground for a while before catching his breath, propped up his upper body with his hands, wiped the blood off his face, and looked forward weakly.

Five people stood in front of him.

The old monk, and the four monks who had sneaked up on him under the cover of the crowd, had surrounded him. Blades and swords were crossed and held against his back. The old monk twisted his prayer beads, walked to his front, and used his instep to hold up his chin and lift it.

"Palace Master."

The old monk asked expressionlessly.

"The old monk is very confused, can you solve it for me?"

Minamoto Choryo coughed up a mouthful of blood. He had no power to resist now and was insultingly lifted by the old monk, but there was still that kind smile on his face.

"Seat Master... cough cough, please speak."

The old monk asked slowly.

"Where are the others?"

He naturally knew about the plan to besiege Li Miao tonight.

Minamoto Choryo smiled.