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Chapter 371: Who Can Kill Me?
Chapter 371: Who Can Kill Me?
Southern Frontier, beneath brooding clouds.
In the military camp, Wu Taian closed his eyes, recalling his final vision: The Ten Thousand Poisons Sect seems to have unearthed a treasure?
The thought stirred his innate Clear Sky Eye, tempting him to peer through the sect’s protective arrays. Yet after deliberation, he abandoned the idea—not because the arrays could resist his gaze, but because piercing them risked alerting the array masters within.
"Never mind." Wu Taian quickly shelved his curiosity. In Dao Court territory, his domineering nature would have dismissed all caution. But this was the Southern Frontier.
The Ten Thousand Poisons Sect mattered little. Yet Lv Yang, the Sword Pavilion’s True Man, was a disciple of the formidable Dangmo True Man. He had no desire to stir trouble over trifles.
He had greater matters here.
Turning sharply, Wu Taian strode into his command tent, dismissing his attendants. From his robes, he withdrew an ancient, square Dharma Spinning Cylinder.
Clack-clack.
Channeling his power, he gently rotated the cylinder. Though it appeared ordinary, it drained his energy alarmingly. With each revolution, golden sutras emerged, their flickering light intensifying into roaring flames. Within the inferno, a monk’s silhouette materialized, palms joined in a serene smile.
"Amitabha, Wu Benefactor, you’ve finally chosen to meet me."
The monk’s aura was uncanny—majestic yet oddly timid, a paradoxical blend of solemnity and timidity.
"Guangming." Wu Taian’s tone remained calm. "Once a mere novice in Pure Land, not even a True Man, yet overnight your nature transformed utterly."
"On the day Chaoyu Taixu True Monarch ushered in a new cosmic era, all Bodhisattvas vanished. Only one Dharma Body fell from Zizai Heaven, landing squarely upon you—making you the Buddha’s child."
Wu Taian recounted Guangming’s ascension, his words laced with skepticism. How many times had he researched this tale? Yet its absurdity endured—was he truly to believe fortune had dropped from the heavens? That chance alone had blessed him above countless Arhats?
Thus, his single burning question:
"Dare I ask—is it truly the Honored One before me?"
He bowed deeply. With all True Monarchs hidden, who could surpass a Nascent Soul Formation Sovereign? Especially one from Pure Land, a realm notorious for deception.
Guangming chuckled.
He recalled that day—fleeing wildly as the Dharma Body descended, only to collide headlong with it. The sensation afterward remained indescribable. He’d experienced Arhat possessions before; Pure Land’s Buddhist Cultivators often imposed their will through such means. Those instances were painfully clear—the intruders’ dominance, his body’s instinctive resistance.
But this was different.
When the Dharma Body merged with him, no struggle followed. Only a single thought: "Ah! Unbelievable—I am the World-Honored One’s incarnation!"
His consciousness, memories, and temperament remained unchanged. Hence, he could only smile at Wu Taian’s query.
Even he didn’t know.
Am I Guangming? Or the World-Honored One?
Such questions paled beside his present calling. The Shengyi-born Mingtuotuo Heavenly Manifestation Phase had descended upon him—bestowing a sacred mission.
"Amitabha, Benefactor Wu, you cling to appearances." Guangming's gaze softened. "You sought my Dharma Spinning Cylinder because our fates entwine. My descent requires four disciples to journey westward, seeking enlightenment."
"The Mingtuotuo Phase has already decreed their destinies: one from Jiangdong, one from Jiangbei, one from Jiangnan, and one from Overseas Dominion—each to attain supreme Buddhahood."
"You are one of them."
Wu Taian’s Spiritual Body trembled, beyond his control—a testament to his stormy emotions. The World-Honored One! Truly the World-Honored One! The Shengyi-born Mingtuotuo Phase mirrors the ancient Great Compassionate Tuo-la Heaven’s Vision! This is the Honored One’s karmic decree, inviting me as a disciple—promising me a golden seat in the afterlife!
"Disciple pays homage to Master!"
Though Guangming appeared decades younger, Wu Taian knelt without hesitation, striking his head three times upon the ground. In Dao Court’s ruthless politics, such deference was second nature.
Confidence surged within him. The World-Honored One himself has vowed my golden seat! My quest for immortality is assured!
"Good." Guangming nodded, then paused, as if listening. "The karmic thread is clear. Rather than delay, today another disciple arrives—let us greet them together."
Wu Taian’s brows furrowed. Another? Who?
His instincts screamed caution. The World-Honored One would never choose a rogue cultivator—this one must also belong to the Four Factions. Southern Frontier’s only other candidate...
That Sword Pavilion True Man?
The suspicion solidified when Guangming turned toward the Ten Thousand Poisons Sect. Yet Wu Taian seethed—how could that man qualify? He hadn’t even reached Foundation Building Perfection!
Meanwhile, a chill suddenly pierced Lv Yang’s spine.
What—?
He glanced up, unease prickling. Too many delays. I must settle my True Body first.
Clutching an Imperial Mountain-Moving Technique talisman, he chanted an incantation. The Ten Thousand Poisons Sect’s mountain gate exploded open, revealing a cavernous pool inside.
Concentrated moonlight essence radiated from the liquid within. Though Lv Yang had already drained its Imperial Nectar reserves, replenishment was merely a matter of time.
His consciousness returned to his True Body. Stepping into the pool, he felt an overwhelming harmony with the cosmos—as if a child returned to its mother’s womb, whispers of profound truths echoing in his ears.
"Excellent! With this Moonlight Essence Pool, cultivating my Immortal Spirit will take no time. Within thirty years, I’ll reach Foundation Building Perfection—the peak beneath True Monarch!"
His heart swelled with triumph. At that point, who could kill me?
Yet fatigue struck him like a hammer.
Since transcending sleep through meditation, he’d never felt drowsiness. Nine lifetimes of cultivation, and now—drowsiness?
Perhaps a nap... My Avatar stands guard. A brief rest won’t hurt.
His eyelids drooped...
Boom!
A thunderclap of realization jolted him awake. His vision blurred—when did this happen?
But when did it start?!
Amidst the chaos, a single command crystallized in his mind:
Tribulation Tempest Blade!
Save me!
(End of Chapter)
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