Staring at the Flood Dragon above her.
Yun Qinghe's eyes were calm. Her right hand rested on the hilt of her sword, and she remained silent.
A faint echo came from the river's surface: "Surrender without a fight and return with me to the Thunder Pool Daoist Academy to face punishment."
Hearing his voice and seeing the Divine Technique that could scoop up the sea in a single basket, she immediately remembered who he was.
This scruffy, basket-carrying Daoist was the Mountain Master of the Thunder Pool Daoist Academy.
He was also the Chief Tributor of the Dao Alliance's Bodhi Temple, Well Water True Monarch, whose Realm had reached the Twelfth Realm of Daoist Cultivation: Primordial Spirit. Rumor had it that his basket had once collected all the water of a mighty river. It could even contain a Middle Fifth Grade Cultivator, holding a small world of its own like a well. He was an incredibly powerful master of the Taoist Sect.
And while Bodhi Temple had a good relationship with the Court, its relationship with the Celestial Master's Mansion was very poor.
The scruffy Daoist's voice rang out again: "Little girl, your assassination attempt on the Fifth Prince at the state banquet was one thing; the Holy Emperor did not pursue the matter. But to actually dare to kill him now... you have undoubtedly committed a monstrous crime and crossed a line. Not even the Celestial Master's Mansion can protect you. The Dao Alliance's decision was for you to cut off his arm, not kill him. To act so recklessly for the sake of a personal grudge... your Daoxin is already clouded by dust."
Without a word, a golden slit opened between Yun Qinghe's brows, radiating a brilliant light. It opened just a crack, not a fraction of an inch more.
The next second, an ancient Flying Sword shot out from the slit, and Yun Qinghe's figure vanished in a flash.
She was not one for idle talk, nor for pointless reasoning.
The sword in her hand was her reason.
In an instant, she was high above the river, her sword slashing down at the green-eyed Flood Dragon before her.
Ripples spread across the smooth surface of the river. At the river's bottom, the Flood Dragon swam restlessly, its ferocious head staring up with apprehension at the woman above.
A razor-sharp Sword Qi cleaved the entire river in two. Massive waves, like mountains, surged on either side, exposing the weed-strewn riverbed.
"ROAR!"
Just then, a Flood Dragon shot out from the river, letting out a thunderous roar.
The Flood Dragon's soundwave rolled toward her, and Yun Qinghe retreated.
Holding her sword in one hand, she pointed it straight ahead, perpendicular to the river's surface, and drew a circle in the direction of the Flood Dragon. Her face was serene as the light of her Golden Core flowed through her entire body and into the Long Sword, which was enveloped in azure Taoist Qi.
The next second, the soundwave dissipated.
A thin golden line, like a shooting star, streaked across the river's surface.
Yun Qinghe stood proudly in the void. With a slight lift of her foot, an immense Sword Intent erupted.
A sword fell from the sky.
Heaven-Piercing Sword Qi split the low-hanging clouds on the horizon, split the river, split everything before her. It sliced the Flood Dragon in two down the middle, as if she had cleaved this entire corner of the world in half by herself.
Only the scalding blood of the Flood Dragon was left, splattering across the great river.
She returned to the bank of the Bian River.
Before her stood the same scruffy Daoist and the ferocious Monk.
The scruffy Daoist, his eyes covered by a black cloth, tilted his head. His gaze seemed to follow her movements as he spoke in a low voice:
"Little girl, besides being from the Celestial Master's Mansion, are you also one of *them*? That Flying Sword from your brow... it's no simple thing. Could it be a gestating Immortal Sword? Who exactly are you?"
Yun Qinghe said coolly, "Does it really matter whether I am or not?"
The scruffy Daoist's eyes narrowed, his tone sinister. "Then I will give you one last chance to state your background and identity. After this, when I kill you, Bodhi Temple will not apologize for it, nor will we care where you come from or who your master is."
"Even if that is an Immortal Artifact, how much of its power can you truly command?"
Yun Qinghe simply turned a deaf ear to him, her focus entirely on finding a way to escape.
"More than enough to deal with you."
Her opponent was, after all, Well Water True Monarch of the Twelfth Realm, a being of immense power.
The Lifebound Flying Sword between her brows was extremely special. To use it required consuming her own lifespan; she absolutely could not draw upon it unless it was a matter of life and death.
Just as the two were still talking,
the ferocious Water-Watching Monk had already vanished from his spot.
He raised his arm, clenched his fist, and brought it crashing down toward the White-haired Daoist Nun's head.
Yun Qinghe raised her scabbard to block. With a slight turn of her blade, the tip of her sword thrust toward a single point on the Monk's chest.
Unexpectedly, the ferocious Monk's downward punch suddenly changed. His fist became a palm, and his five fingers clamped down on the blade. His Flesh Body showed no sign of being corroded by the Sword Qi.
One must remember that when she assassinated Lu Mingkong, the Sword Qi from the single strike that severed his arm had entered his body and crippled his legs as well.
"HUMMMMM!"
Following a low chant, a multitude of golden Sanskrit characters suddenly appeared on the ferocious Monk's body. His skin looked as if it had been plated with Gold.
Sensing danger, Yun Qinghe decisively released the hilt. The edge of the blade scraped across the Monk's palm, letting out an ear-piercing screech of metal on stone.
Sure enough, the ferocious Monk flung the hand gripping the sword backward, and the Long Sword was thrown dozens of yards away, where it embedded itself in the ground.
Immediately after, he drove his knee forward. Yun Qinghe was struck, and with a loud BANG, she was sent flying twenty to thirty yards away. She landed hard on her back and tumbled several times. Fortunately, the riverbank was free of rocks and gravel, and since she didn't land face-down, her features were spared.
The ferocious Monk gave her no chance to breathe, his figure plummeting from high above.
Wisps of Purple Gold energy flowed slowly across his face, giving him an incomparably sacred air. Only then did the ferocious Monk speak, his voice icy. "No matter who you are, my Leiyin Temple fears no one. I just wonder how many blows your tender flesh can withstand from me?"
Just as the ferocious Monk was about to stomp down, a sudden tremor from the Imperial City caught their attention.
"This is..."
The expressions on both the scruffy Daoist and the ferocious Monk changed. They looked up and saw Great Yan's National Fortune True Dragon in the void.
At that very moment, Yun Qinghe, still on the ground, crushed a mottled purple Talisman.
When the two looked down again, they found the White-haired Daoist Nun had already vanished from the riverbank.
"Dammit!"
The scruffy Daoist cursed, then quickly extended his fingers and began to perform a divination.
But after a long moment of calculation, he found no clues. His expression flickered uncertainly as he said, "This woman has many Treasures and is protected by a Divine Object. I fear she holds a great secret."
...
「On the other side.」
「In Qingzhu Hall.」
Lu Mingyuan held the Martial Arts Technique that Zi Yun had found for him, studying it over and over.
'Desolate Dragon Elephant Force.'
This was an exceptionally profound Buddhist Martial art. It was comprehended by the Buddhist Sect's Celestial Dragon Elephant Arhat from Shakyamuni's Seven Ancestors Visualization Image. The technique was divided into thirteen floors. Its Outer Power made one's Palm Power incomparably fierce, domineering, and unyielding. Each completed floor granted the power of one dragon and one elephant. Upon reaching the Tenth Floor, one would possess the colossal strength of ten dragons and ten elephants—enough to move mountains, fill seas, and destroy a city with a single punch.
The fifth floor was a threshold, and the Tenth Floor was another.
The final three floors, if successfully cultivated, were said to grant even more powerful Divine Techniques.
However, not even the Dragon Elephant Arhat himself had succeeded in cultivating them. They remained in the hypothetical stage—the theoretical stage.
The Three Religions were not completely separate from one another.
There were always some geniuses who would draw on the strengths of others to make up for their own weaknesses, fusing the essences of two teachings to create something new. The Desolate Dragon Elephant Force was one such creation.
Those true geniuses were all either Confucian and Daoist Dual Cultivators or Buddhist and Martial Dual Cultivators, using this path to pursue higher and more powerful Realms.
Ordinary people could never accomplish such a feat.
Just as he was engrossed in studying the Cultivation Technique, Zi Yun stepped forward to report:
"Your Highness, there is an official who looks to be of high status, dressed in a Vermilion Robe, who says he wishes to see you."
Hearing this, Lu Mingyuan furrowed his brow. 'Only those of the Fourth Grade or higher in our Court can wear a vermilion robe. Which one of them has nothing better to do than come see me?'
Even his mother hadn't visited in a while.
'Do I even have any friends left in the Capital City?'
That old gang of his fair-weather friends had all disappeared without a trace after he was imprisoned.
Visiting brothels, getting foot-washes, and going to gambling dens were his daily trifecta. The people he knew were almost all johns; he had hardly any real friends.
He hadn't even given permission for the visitor to enter, but a voice full of mirth already sounded by his ear:
"My dear grandson, it's been a long time."
A middle-aged man in his fifties or sixties stepped into Qingzhu Hall. He walked through the front hall, which was lined with a dazzling array of bookshelves, past a low table where steam rose from a teacup. A golden fish pouch hung from the man's belt, engraved on either side: "Minister of War" on the left, and "Senior Doctor Wang He'fu" on the right.
Seeing that name, Lu Mingyuan had a sudden realization.
And this middle-aged man before him—with his rugged features, stern brow, piercing gaze, and clad in the wide sleeves of a vermilion robe—exuded an indescribable, sharp aura.
He was his estranged maternal grandfather, Wang He'fu.
...
There's one more chapter, it'll be out in an hour. I'm making an exception today. I usually only post after finishing two chapters, but today is special.
Happy New Year's Day and a Happy New Year to everyone!
I also hope this book can achieve good results!
*THUD! THUD! THUD!*
[Kowtows] [Kowtows] [Kowtows]