Chapter 120: The Fierce True Transmissions
Chapter 120: The Fierce True Transmissions
Within the Starfield Realm, a desolate wilderness stirred.
A surge of earth-yellow light erupted, and the once-flat ground rippled like stormy waves. Slowly, a massive vessel emerged from the trembling earth.
Inside the vessel’s depths, Guanghai stood with his hands clasped behind his back, meditating in serene silence.
Moments later, Guangming approached briskly, unfurling a scroll. “Senior Brother, the disciples have completed twelve arrays,” he reported.
Guanghai accepted the scroll, frowning. “Only twelve? Wasn’t it agreed we’d prepare thirty-six for the eradication of the demonic sect?”
Guangming sighed, scratching his head. “Ten were meant to be handled by the Dragon Assembly disciples. But as you know, their… situation changed. And with your order to accelerate the plan, twelve is all we could manage.”
“So this is my fault?” Guanghai’s eyes narrowed.
“Of course not!” Guangming straightened. “The other disciples were simply negligent. I’ll push them to finish more!”
Guanghai nodded, appeased.
Their original strategy, devised with the Dao Court, had been to trap the Holy Sect using a vast array formation. But everything changed when a Holy Sect disciple manifested the Nine Metamorphosis Dragon Art. Guanghai refused to let the Dao Court claim that power for themselves. He ordered the Pure Land disciples to strike early, convinced victory was inevitable.
Since Guangming had withheld details of Lv Yang’s strength, Guanghai dismissed the Dragon Assembly’s annihilation as unsurprising—their foe had been the Primordial Sacred Sect, after all.
He reasoned: Even if the Primordial Sacred Sect had crushed the Dragon Assembly, they’d surely be weakened. How could they stand against eight Bodhisattva Disciples united?
The Dao Court and Pure Land’s schemes had already cost the Holy Sect a third of its forces as soon as they entered the Starfield Realm. Two of their seven True Transmissions perished—one slain by Guanghai himself. Their reputation for ferocity seemed exaggerated.
Confidence swelling, Guanghai muttered, “They say the Holy Sect is fearsome, but I see little threat. After I secure this victory, the Bodhisattva will surely take notice.”
Suddenly, his spiritual senses flared.
The vessel shuddered violently, as if it had struck a hidden reef. A deafening crash echoed as the artifact’s radiance flickered chaotically.
“What’s happening!?” Guanghai demanded.
The vessel’s spirit core cried out in pain: “Something… someone is attacking!”
Before he could react, a shadow loomed overhead. A dark shuttle pierced the sky like a falling star, tearing open the heavens.
Holy Sect disciples poured forth—a True Transmission leading five others, flanked by seven Refining Qi Perfection cultivators and dozens of Late Stage disciples. Their bloodthirsty auras blotted out the sky.
“Move aside!”
Dragonfang Taoist struck first. With a guttural snarl, he tore off his robes. His flesh contorted, scales erupting across his left arm as his fingers fused into twin draconic horns. His palm split open, revealing jagged teeth—a snarling dragon’s maw. His organs twisted, his intestines spilling to form a thrashing tail, limbs reshaping into claws. His head retracted, nestled within the dragon’s maw like a serpent’s hood. A grotesque, blood-soaked chimera of man and dragon.
With a roar, he plunged into the vessel, his form a hurricane of carnage.
Boom!
The vessel fractured, its protective light shattering. Weaker Pure Land disciples clutched their ears, blood spilling from their mouths.
Bi Fei Yuan descended next, her silken robes falling away. Her snow-white body glowed, a vision of forbidden allure. Dozens of Pure Land disciples collapsed, their minds shattered by lust, essence drained until even their souls frayed.
Xu Xin struck from the shadows, a blade flashing between the ribs of a disciple wrestling with inner demons. Zhong Ming charged headlong into the fray, sword blazing, mowing down opponents.
“Monks, why look away?” Bi Fei Yuan’s voice coiled like incense smoke. “You preach salvation—why not save me?”
Then Guanghai roared, “Demons!”
His voice boomed with a thousand sutras: “When I attain Buddhahood, if any in my land cling to desire, I shall never reach enlightenment!”
The Pure Land disciples’ minds cleared. No self, no lust, no fear. Bi Fei Yuan’s charms faltered.
Crack!
Golden dharma bodies coalesced from their chants—eight Vajra titans. But one was missing. The Dragon Assembly’s absence left a gaping hole.
“Seven will suffice,” Guanghai sneered. “Clever to strike first, but futile.”
Then his gaze snapped upward.
Lv Yang hovered in the sky, calculating silently. As Guanghai noticed him, Lv Yang’s lips curled.
Found you.
He dove.
A mountain of spiritual pressure erupted, shattering the vessel’s defenses.
“Too late!” Guanghai bellowed, raising his hands to summon aid.
Too late indeed.
(End of Chapter)
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