Gaze and you will become stronger: starting from Doupo

This time, the sound of the bell was mixed with the fragrance of wheat from the East Wilderness, the sword energy from the Central Plains, the ice from the Northern Plains, and the fire from the Nanling Mountains - it turned out that the smoke of war in all realms would eventually transform into spring rain that nourishes the world in the gentleness of thunder.

The sound of Buddhist chants and fighting tangled together on the scorched earth. The robes of Xuanji, the abbot of the Great Leiyin Temple, had long been soaked in blood. Only seven of the thirty-six natal Buddhist beads on his chest were still glowing, each of which was embedded with the power of his decades of hard work. Under his feet was a half-broken pagoda. The mantra of rebirth engraved on the pagoda was being eroded bit by bit by the black blood of the ancient creatures, and the runes were wailing like they were about to die.

"Master, the East Wing Pagoda Forest has been lost!" The staff of Asuo, a high monk, was broken into two pieces, and the bones of his left shoulder were turned outward, but he still protected the three seriously injured monks behind him. Before he finished speaking, a prehistoric ferocious bird with two wings on its back fell from the sky. The strong wind brought by the tips of its wings plowed deep trenches on the ground. In the black mist rising from the trenches, the residual souls of the monks who died in the previous battle could be vaguely seen crying.

Xuan Ji closed his eyes and moved his fingertips quickly on the Buddhist beads. The seventh Buddhist bead shattered with a "snap", and a golden beam of light as thick as a bowl shot out from his forehead, nailing the wings of the ferocious bird to the broken wall. But the next moment, more ancient creatures came, their bodies covered with dark green scales, and each scale was shining with the faint light of the law of chaos - the weakest had the cultivation base of the early stage of the Four Extremes, and the ancient king in the lead had an aura close to the peak of the Dragon Transformation Realm.

"Puff——" Xuan Ji spat out a mouthful of black blood. He had already burned his blood essence three times, and at this moment his internal organs seemed to be surging in magma, and his vision became blurred. The battlefield in front of him was like Asura Hell: some monks were torn in half, their intestines dragged on the ground, but they were still chanting the mantra of rebirth; some clung to the ankles of the ancient creatures until their heads were crushed, and the shadow of the pagoda was still reflected in their eyes; further away, the seven-story glazed pagoda had tilted nearly 30 degrees, and the bodies of the monks who died in the battle were hung on the eaves of each floor. When the wind blew, it made a tiny collision sound like wind chimes.

"Master, there is news from Beiyuan..." The monk Ananda staggered over, his right ear had been torn off, blood flowing down his neck into his monk robe, "The mountain protection formation of the Beiyuan Holy Land has been broken, and the ancient human race is slaughtering the city..." His voice suddenly choked, because he saw another Buddhist bead on Xuan Ji's chest shattered, and the master's hair was turning white at a speed visible to the naked eye.

“The demon tribe of Nanling…” Senior Monk Awu came from another direction, the blade of the sword in his hand curled, “The Fox King of Qingqiu died in the battle, and only 3,000 demon soldiers are left…” He suddenly noticed Xuan Ji’s condition, and his pupils shrank suddenly, “Master, you can’t burn your blood essence anymore. If you continue like this…”

"That's enough." Xuan Ji interrupted him, his voice frighteningly calm, "The four major regions have all suffered this disaster, and my Western Desert has been the first to bear the brunt." He looked up at the sky, which was densely packed with ancient warships. The hulls were covered with life-destroying runes that were greedily devouring the spiritual energy of heaven and earth. "Instead of lingering on, it's better to..."

He suddenly smiled, a smile that was filled with relief and sadness. The moment he sat cross-legged, the last three Buddha beads exploded at the same time, turning into three golden halos floating above his head. Arles, Anier and other abbots looked at each other and saw the determination to die in each other's eyes. They threw down their weapons one after another, ignoring the whistling claws around them, and sat down on the spot, with their fingertips forming the seal of rebirth in front of their chests.

"Namo Hela Dana-Dora Yeye-"

As the first verse came out, the corpses on the ground suddenly glowed with golden light. The broken Buddhist beads, broken Zen sticks, and blood-stained cassocks all floated up, forming a golden light band around the monk. The halo above Xuan Ji's head slowly turned, and with each turn, a huge golden Sanskrit appeared in the sky. These Sanskrit words connected together, as if weaving a large Buddhist net for the sky.

The ancient king was angry. He thought these ants were already fish on the chopping board, but he didn't expect that they would disturb him with such noisy scriptures before they died. "Noisy!" He roared, and his scales spread out, revealing the dark golden skin underneath. He clasped his hands in front of his chest, and suddenly, the spiritual energy in a radius of ten miles gathered crazily, forming a huge black fist, with the chain of the law of chaos wrapped around the fist.

"boom!"

The black fist smashed into the glazed pagoda, and the tower groaned as it could not bear the heavy weight. The seventh-floor spire collapsed on the spot, killing several monks who were chanting. Xuan Ji's mouth bled again, but the scriptures did not stop at all. He knew that this was the last struggle - using the lives of all the monks to buy time for the Rebirth Mantra. Even if he could not kill the enemy, he had to let these ancient creatures remember that the monks of the Western Desert would rather die than surrender.

At this moment, a sudden change occurred.

There was a crisp sound like glass breaking in the sky, and a dark crack spread from afar. Wherever it passed, the life-destroying runes of the ancient warships became ineffective. The ancient creatures on the ship looked at the crack in horror, as if they saw the scythe of the god of death. In the crack, the thunder became louder and louder. First, tiny purple electric snakes swam around the edge of the crack, and then a purple lightning beam with a diameter of 100 feet suddenly struck down, hitting the fist that the ancient king had just raised.

"Crack!"

Like shattered porcelain, the Chaos Fist Seal that the Ancient King was so proud of instantly collapsed, and the remaining force of the lightning beam did not diminish, leaving a charred wound on its chest. It raised its head, and fear emerged in its eyes for the first time - in the crack, a thousand-foot-wide sword made of thunder was slowly emerging, and the sky-blue light flowing on the blade reminded it of the power of the Heavenly Dao in the ancient times that made all living beings tremble.

"Do not--"

The roar of the ancient king came to an abrupt end. The moment the broadsword slashed down, the whole world seemed to have been paused. Wherever the blade passed, the space was cut open like butter, revealing the surging sea of ​​thunder behind it. When the blade pierced through the center of the ancient king's brow, it finally understood that this was not ordinary lightning, but a blade of thunder punishment that contained the laws of heaven, specifically targeting these ancient relics that violated the order of heaven.

"Shoot-"

There was no bloody storm as imagined. The body of the ancient king was cut open by an invisible scalpel, neatly split in half from the center of the eyebrows to the lower abdomen. Not even much blood was shed, because the lightning in the blade had already vaporized the flesh and blood at the wound. Just as its soul was about to escape, the broadsword was swung again, and a lightning as thin as a hair flashed by, and the soul dissipated instantly, without even a wail left behind.

The battlefield fell into a dead silence. All the ancient creatures stopped moving, looked up at the broadsword in the sky that exuded a terrifying pressure, and trembled involuntarily - that was the fear engraved in their blood, which was more terrifying than the punishment of the heaven in the ancient times.

"Boom boom—" The broadsword swung again, and countless lightning blades fell from the sky, pouring down on the ancient warships like a rainstorm. Those warships that were said to be indestructible were like paper in front of the lightning blades, and they broke into pieces one after another. The ancient creatures tried to escape, but found that the space around them had been imprisoned by lightning. They could only watch the lightning blades pierce through their bodies and turn into a bloody rain.

Xuan Ji and the others had already stopped chanting, staring blankly at all this. The ancient king who was so arrogant just now had now turned into dust; those ancient creatures that were like a tide did not even have the ability to fight back under the broadsword. All this happened too quickly, so fast that they did not even have time to digest the shock in their hearts.

"It's the Buddha who showed his spirit!" I don't know who spoke first, and then all the monks fell to the ground with tears in their eyes. They had experienced a near-death experience and thought they would not be able to escape, but at the last moment they were favored by "God". How could they not be grateful?

"Bullshit!" A loud shout came from the crack, and then several figures walked out of the crack. The leader was a fat man wearing a tattered Taoist robe and a bronze wine pot hanging around his waist. He stood with his hands on his hips and cursed, "What Buddha appeared? If there really is a Buddha, what would he have done long ago? The one who saved you is a disciple of Grandpa Hongjun. Remember, my name is Duan De!"

Xuan Ji raised his head, his eyes stayed on the fat man for a moment, and suddenly noticed the young man next to him - that was Alan, the disciple of the Great Leiyin Temple who had been missing for three years. At this moment, Alan's aura was restrained but sharp, and there were two strange men standing beside him, one holding an ancient bronze lamp, and the other with a broken sword engraved with runes hanging on his waist.

"Brother Alan?" A monk recognized him and said incredulously, "You... you really found some help?"

Alan smiled bitterly, walked forward and helped Xuan Ji up: "Master, I was sent to Zhongzhou for help, but found that the four great dynasties could not protect themselves. Fortunately, I met Brother Ye and Brother Duan, they..." He glanced at Ye Fan and Jiang Han beside him, "They are not from this world, but they are willing to help us."

Ye Fan stepped forward, his eyes swept across the mess on the ground, and whispered: "We sensed that the fluctuations of the heavenly way here in the ancient starry sky road were abnormal, and when we came here, we saw you chanting. That knife..." He looked at the broad knife that was gradually dissipating in the sky, "It is a projection of the law left by the ancestor Hongjun, which is specifically aimed at the chaotic creatures of the ancient times."

Xuan Ji clasped his hands together in greeting, a complicated look flashing in his eyes: "Anyway, thank you for saving my life. But..." He looked at the thunderclouds that were gradually dispersing in the distance, "The ancient creatures are out in full force this time, I'm afraid the other three regions..."

Jiang Han waved his hand, and the ancient lamp swayed gently in his hand. Pictures appeared on the wick: the mountain protection formation of the Beiyuan Holy Land was being rebuilt, the remaining Nanling demons were gathering at the ruins of Qingqiu, and the armies of the four great dynasties of Zhongzhou were clearing out the remaining ancient creatures. "Don't worry, our companions have gone to the other three regions for support," he said, "The laws of heaven are being restored, and those ancient creatures can no longer descend on a large scale."

The wind swept across the scorched earth, bringing the whimper of the distant sea of ​​sand. The monks began to collect the bodies of their companions, put their Buddhist beads and robes in order, and piled up a huge funeral pile on the ruins. Duan De squatted aside, watching the busy figures of the monks, and suddenly murmured: "I also saw such a scene in the ancient forbidden land..."

Ye Fan patted his shoulder without saying anything. They all knew that although the catastrophe had subsided temporarily, the wounds left behind would take a long time to heal. In the distance, the glazed pagoda cast a long shadow in the setting sun, and new runes were slowly emerging on the pagoda - that was the hope of a new life.

When the first flame lit up on the funeral pyre, the monks chanted scriptures again. This time, the scriptures were no longer filled with despair, but with remembrance of the deceased and hope for the future. In the sky, the last trace of lightning dissipated, leaving only a few white clouds, as if everything just now was just a terrible nightmare.

Xuan Ji looked at the sky and suddenly smiled. He knew that the Western Desert would not perish, just as Buddhism would not be extinct. The blood and obsession of those monks who died in the battle had long been integrated into this land and turned into a protective force. And the figures of those benefactors who came from afar will be forever engraved in the history of the Western Desert and become a legend.

As the night deepened, the flames of the funeral pyre illuminated every tired face. Duan De took out the wine flask, took a sip, and suddenly laughed: "Old monk, although your chanting is noisy, it is quite touching at the critical moment. Next time you encounter this kind of thing, give us a heads up in advance, and we will bring some fireworks and firecrackers to make it lively."

Ye Fan and Jiang Han couldn't help laughing, and even the usually serious Alan curled his lips. Xuan Ji shook his head, with a hint of helplessness in his eyes: "Amitabha, the donor should bring more healing herbs."

Everyone laughed, and the laughter passed through the smoke-filled battlefield, startling a few night crows perched on the broken wall. Although the Western Desert was devastated at this moment, the seeds of rebirth were quietly planted in this laughter. The residual power of the Thunder Blade gradually dissipated, but those unyielding souls in desperate situations, those helping hands across the starry sky, will eventually become the most solid backing for this land to resist all invading enemies.

In the middle of the lightning-filled battlefield of the Western Desert, as soon as Alan finished speaking, the Buddhist beads of the thirty-seven monks glowed at the same time. The fingertips of Xuan Ku, the abbot of the Great Leiyin Temple, paused for a moment on his natal rosary. The Buddhist beads, woven from silk from thousand-year-old ice silkworms on the top of the snow-capped mountains in the Western Regions, were vibrating obscurely at this moment - that was the resonance of the heaven that only the monks who had cultivated the "mind-eye" could perceive.

"Master, this is the ancestor Hongjun. He was the one who killed the ancient king and the ancient creatures just now." Alan's voice was three parts excited and seven parts awed. Under his torn robes, three deep claw marks that could be seen through the bones were healing at a speed visible to the naked eye. They were caused by the lightning that Jiang Han casually swung. Xuan Ku looked up and saw the man in front of him standing with his hands behind his back. His sleeves moved without wind, and the stars in the sky could be vaguely seen at the cuffs. It was the legendary "Hongjun robe".

"Grandmaster Hongjun?" Xuankong, the abbot of Wuxiang Temple on the right, murmured in a low voice, and the demon-subduing pestle in his hand fell to the ground with a clang. He suddenly remembered the fragments of the scroll he had seen in the Sutra Library fifty years ago. On the yellowed ancient paper at the corner of the page, there were eight large characters embroidered in gold thread: "Hongjun appears in the world, punishes the demons with thunder", which now overlapped with the scene in front of him.

Xuan Ku put his palms together, and the gilded swastika on his cassock suddenly glowed with strong light. He slowly bowed down as if lifted by the Buddha's light: "On behalf of the 100,000 monks in the Western Desert, I thank you for saving my life." When his forehead touched the ground, he noticed that the scorched earth under Jiang Han's feet was sprouting tiny green sprouts with him as the center - it was a dead land that had been polluted by the ancient demonic energy for a hundred years, and was now being purified by the power of the Heavenly Dao. (End of this chapter)