The Republic of China era. Outside the Grand Hall of a temple. A young monk was stooped over, sweeping the bluestone steps with a bamboo broom.
"Xiuyuan, come to your Master's side."
A voice, deep and resonant like an ancient bronze bell, drifted out from within the hall.
Hearing the summons, the young monk hesitated for a moment. He then leaned his broom against a corridor pillar and stepped inside.
His name was Lin Yan, a transmigrator. Half a year ago, he had woken up in this strange world to find himself the "closed-door" disciple of the Abbot of Xuankong Temple, bestowed with the Dharma name "Xiuyuan."
The temple's name, Xuankong (Hanging), was literal—a few dilapidated halls perched precariously on the edge of a sheer cliff. When the wind howled, the bronze bells hanging from the eaves chimed discordantly, making it feel as though the entire structure might plummet into the abyss at any moment.
The temple was incredibly desolate. Only the master and disciple remained to guard the incense fires; on ordinary days, not even a ghost could be seen.
Despite the meager living conditions, Lin Yan never entertained the thought of leaving the mountain. After all, this was the chaotic era of the Republic—warlords clashed, bandits roamed, and worse, demons and vengeful spirits haunted the shadows. If he were to leave this sanctuary recklessly, he wouldn't even have bones left to bury.
Besides, the old monk truly had "something" about him.
Last time Lin Yan encountered danger while traveling at night, he was ensnared by a hanging ghost. Just as his soul was about to be snatched away, his Master had let out a single Buddhist chant that shattered the Yin energy. With a casual flick of his sleeve, the Master had ground that fierce spirit into a cloud of green smoke.
Thus, for the past six months, Lin Yan had gritted his teeth and endured—meditating, hauling water, chopping wood, and polishing Buddha statues daily. He lived for the day his Master would finally relent and teach him some real divine skills.
"Tsk, what is this old monk plotting now?" Crossing the threshold, Lin Yan saw his Master sitting cross-legged on a prayer mat. Though his features were benevolent and kind, they could not suppress the heavy, imposing aura that surrounded him.
"Master," Lin Yan said, "The water vats are filled, the floors are swept clean, the golden statues are polished to a shine, and the firewood is piled higher than a man."
The old monk reached out and gently patted the top of Lin Yan's head, his palm warm and steady. "Xiuyuan, you have been under my tutelage for exactly half a year. The morning and evening recitations and the silent meditations were not mere busywork—they were meant to temper your heart."
"Now that your heart is as still as a deep well and your concentration has taken root, it is time to bestow upon you the supreme treasure of our Xuankong Temple—the True Buddhist Inheritance."
"This method is no ordinary scripture," the Master began, his voice dropping an octave. "It leads directly to the hidden treasures of the human body—a supreme canon for tempering the Vajra Physique."
Upon hearing this, Lin Yan felt a surge of heat in his chest, as if a fire had been suddenly stoked. Six months! The System hasn't let out so much as a peep. I've survived this long on nothing but bland vegetables and chanting scriptures... finally, my day has come!
"This disciple listens with all due reverence," he said, hurriedly bowing.
From a hidden pocket within his kasaya, the old monk produced a yellowed, tattered scroll. The paper was so brittle it looked as though it would crumble if handled with the slightest force. On the cover, three characters were written in vivid cinnabar ink: [The Demon-Subduing Sutra].
"This is the True Demon-Subduing Art, forged from the blood and tears of the ancestral masters of our Xuankong Temple. It contains the stages of cultivation as well as divine martial arts for slaying evil. You must comprehend every word and engrave every sentence into your heart."
"The Demon-Subduing Art? Thank you, Master!" Lin Yan thought. Six months of chopping wood and hauling water was worth it for this!
"I must descend the mountain soon to perform a rite of transcendence for a great calamity," the Master continued. "I will be gone for a month at the shortest, and several months at the longest. You are to guard the temple gates and cultivate without ceasing. Remember, the world is in chaos; warlords fight for territory, demonic auras blot out the sun, and Jiangshi roam the night. Danger lurks at every turn."
"Jiangshi..." Lin Yan's pupils constricted slightly. "Master, do such things truly exist in this world?"
"They do," the old monk replied, his eyes burning like torches. "Evil runs rampant, that is true, but the righteous path has not yet been extinguished. Though the influence of Buddhism and Taoism has waned, there are still masters holding up the spine of the world. Specifically, the Maoshan Sect is currently at its peak—among them is Master Shi Jian, whose lightning arts are profound enough to crush zombies like ants. And then there is Lin Fengjiao, whose innate talent is so formidable that his sword strikes strike terror into ghosts and gods alike."
The moment Lin Yan heard the names "Shi Jian" and "Lin Fengjiao," his mind exploded with a blinding realization.
Could it be them? The World of Mr. Vampire?!
Familiar movie plots, the red-robed female ghosts, the Qing Dynasty zombies hopping after their prey... all those silver-screen memories came rushing back with vivid clarity.
He quickly asked about the realms of cultivation, and the old monk explained in detail:
In the Buddhist path, the beginning stage is the "Opening Light Realm" (Kai Guang). Only after Opening Light can one truly be called a Dharma Master. Above that are the ranks of High Monk, Venerable, and Saint Monk.
"And what lies above a Saint Monk?" Lin Yan pressed.
"Above the Saint Monk are the Dharma King, Heavenly King, Vajra, Arhat, and Bodhisattva, leading all the way to the Perfected Buddha. However," the Master sighed, "those titles have long since become nothing more than legends in ancient scrolls."
The old monk's voice was low and slow. "For nearly three hundred years, not a single Saint Monk has appeared in the Buddhist world. For the abbots of various temples, reaching the realm of Venerable is already the absolute limit. Looking across the lands, one who achieves the Dharma Master realm is considered a grandmaster of an entire region; and if one attains the High Monk realm, they can roam the world without fear of being slighted by anyone."
Lin Yan listened, realization dawning on him.
In this Dharma-Ending Age, spiritual qi had withered away. Cultivation was like climbing a severed cliff—every step was a potential fall. Still, he couldn't resist looking up and asking:
"Master, you… what is your current realm?"
"Me? Hahaha!" The old monk stroked his beard and laughed, his eyes crinkling with undisguised pride. "I entered the Buddhist gate at the age of eight. In the blink of an eye, fifty autumns have passed. Today, my cultivation stands firmly at the peak of the Opening Light Realm. Within ten years, I shall surely break through to the Dharma Master realm!"
Hearing this, Lin Yan's heart immediately sank.
Fifty years just to touch the threshold of the Opening Light Realm? Does that mean by the time I'm white-haired and decrepit, I'll still just be banging on a wooden fish?
Without sufficient cultivation, surviving in this world of demons was a pipe dream. There were Great Archmagi of the South Seas who enslaved ghosts like dogs; there were Red-Robed Fire Ghosts that could burn a city for three days straight; and then there were the thousand-year-old Jiangshi with copper skin and iron bones, capable of swallowing the moon and devouring the sun.
Every single one of them could shake the mountains with a stomp—none were foes he could afford to provoke.
The next day, the old monk descended the mountain.
Lin Yan was left alone to guard the dilapidated temple and cultivate in solitude.
The night was as dark as ink. Lin Yan sat cross-legged beneath a flickering lamp, studying the Demon-Subduing Sutra word by word, guiding his breath according to the diagrams.
Three days passed. His fingertips trembled slightly as a wisp of warm air quietly surged from the depths of his dantian. This was the sign of Buddhist Power being born.
However, Lin Yan's brow furrowed. Too slow. At this rate, if he wanted to reach the Dharma Master realm, he'd have to endure at least thirty more years of bitter struggle.
"Sigh... if only I had a 'Golden Finger' or something," Lin Yan muttered.
Just then—
DING! System detected: Host has completed six months of transmigration. System activation in progress...
A crisp notification echoed in his mind. Lin Yan's entire body jolted as his eyes snapped open, shining with brilliance.
"Finally... it's finally here?!"
DING! Activation successful!
"As long as the Host slays evil entities, rewards will be granted. Rewards include, but are not limited to: Cultivation Techniques, Spirit Pills, Dharma Artifacts..."
Lin Yan's heart flared with excitement. Getting stronger just by slaying monsters? In a world teeming with demons and ghosts, isn't this basically a treasure trove waiting to be harvested?
But then, his excitement cooled by half. I haven't even stepped into the Opening Light Realm yet. I'm afraid that as soon as I get close to a Weasel Spirit, I'll be snatched up as a midnight snack.
DING! Detected that the Host's strength is excessively "noob-tier." A Newbie Gift Bundle has been granted. Please claim it.
"Damn, did you really have to call me... Forget it, open it now!" Lin Yan's face initially soured, but his eyes quickly gleamed with anticipation.
"Congratulations to the Host! You have received: One [Marrow-Cleansing Pill] and one [Dragon-Tiger Pill]."
His divine sense swept over the descriptions. The Marrow-Cleansing Pill could purge impurities and reshape one's physical foundation. The Dragon-Tiger Pill possessed surging medicinal power, directly granting three years of cultivation progress—applicable to Buddhist, Taoist, and Martial paths without any bottleneck or backlash.
"This is incredible!"
Grinning, Lin Yan tilted his head back and swallowed the Marrow-Cleansing Pill. In an instant, a warm current flowed through his limbs and bones like spring water, feeling as though he were wrapped in a thick quilt baked in the winter sun.
Before long, wisps of white steam began to evaporate from the surface of his skin. The steam grew denser, eventually forming a swirling mist that enveloped him completely.
After three days of such secluded meditation, he opened his eyes to find his body covered in a layer of pitch-black, foul-smelling grime—thick, sticky, and revolting.
"The cleansing is done! I need a bath, fast!"
Once the clean water washed away the filth, he returned to his prayer mat and circulated the Demon-Subduing Sutra once more. This time, his breath flowed like streams merging into a river; his Buddhist Power surged relentlessly, climbing higher and higher with unstoppable momentum.
"As expected! Once the root foundation changes, Buddhist Power gushes out like a spring!"
"At this rate, the early stage of the Opening Light Realm is just around the corner!"
Hardly had the words left his mouth when he remembered—there was still a Dragon-Tiger Pill sitting in the System inventory!
Without hesitation, he popped it into his mouth.
The pill entered his stomach and exploded into a searing torrent, like a dragon leaping and a tiger pouncing, crashing through his meridians. Lin Yan gritted his teeth and regulated his breathing, forcefully refining the violent medicinal power inch by inch, condensing it into pure Buddhist Power.
In less than a day, his dantian suddenly shuddered—
Early Stage of the Opening Light Realm, achieved! A faint glow flickered in his palm; his Buddhist Power could now be projected three inches beyond his body.
The residual energy of the Dragon-Tiger Pill continued to surge relentlessly through his veins.
"Not finished yet? Even better—keep refining!"
He calmed his mind and sat as still as a statue. One day, two days, three days... the blood and qi throughout his body billowed with increasing intensity, and his bones rang with a metallic clang. With a mere lift of his arm, he could bend a thick iron rod; with a single step, the bluestone floor cracked silently into a spiderweb pattern.
Beyond refining the pill's mountainous medicinal energy, Lin Yan focused his efforts on the fierce martial arts recorded in the Demon-Subduing Sutra.
He specialized in the Demon-Subduing Fist and the Demon-Subduing Palm—two styles as fierce as raging fire and as heavy as a collapsing mountain. Having already undergone Marrow-Cleansing, his physical foundation had been reborn. Practicing these techniques felt as natural as moving his own limbs; within a few short days, he had achieved complete mastery.
With a single punch, wind and thunder erupted. Before the fist even landed, the sheer Astral Qi (Gang Qi) caused the air to hum under the pressure. With the strength of a single arm, he could effortlessly shatter a thousand-jin boulder.
More impressively, wherever his fists and palms struck, his blood-qi surged like a crimson tide—blazing with Yang energy, specifically designed to counter yin spirits and demonic evils.
Seven days passed in the blink of an eye. His Demon-Subduing Fist reached the stage of Perfection (Luhuo Chunqing), while his Demon-Subduing Palm was mastered to the point where "power followed intent," striking whenever his mind willed it. His cultivation rose with the tide, stepping firmly into the Middle Stage of the Opening Light Realm.
"Middle stage... acceptable, but I'm still far from ready to descend the mountain." Lin Yan sat under the eaves, without the slightest intention of leaving the temple to hunt demons.
While this realm wasn't weak, if he were to stumble upon a fierce ghost or a mountain demon roaming the wilds, he might not even have bones left. Recklessly throwing his life away? Not a chance. He would hide his edge and nurture his strength, waiting until his fists were hard enough and his Buddhist light bright enough before stepping out the mountain gate.
Another seven days passed.
Lin Yan's aura became increasingly profound. The Buddhist Essence within him surged like a river, and his blood-qi evaporated like mist. His cultivation climbed quietly, nearing the threshold of the Late Opening Light Realm.
Inside the meditation room, a young figure sat as upright as a pine tree. The little monk's palms were pressed together, his spine straight as a drawn bow. The blood-qi around him thrummed faintly, sounding like the vibration of gold and iron.
"Break!"
With a low shout, Lin Yan galvanized the full force of his Buddhist Power to slam against the bottleneck. In an instant, the barrier shattered!
Buddhist Essence poured out like a tide; blood-qi boiled and surged. His muscles, bones, and skin all underwent a quiet transformation amidst the tremors.