Journey to the West: The Immortal Clan Begins by Feeding Monkeys at Five Elements Mountain

Chapter 87 One Stroke Breaks All Laws
Around the mountain valley, a group of figures suddenly and silently appeared.

At first glance, it covered half a circle in a dark mass, like a ghostly figure appearing in the mountain mist.

They were all members of the Ghost Bun tribe.

His face was painted with red and black greasepaint, as if he were possessed by a ghost or god, and his eyes burned with an almost morbid fanaticism.

They lined up at the edge of the blood mist, leading groups of people up the mountain.

Those people were dressed in rags, their clothes were tattered, and they looked terrified.

From a distance, they all looked like people from the Central Plains, mostly villagers who had been abducted earlier.

At this moment, rows of people were being held by the neck and forced to kneel on the ground, like livestock waiting to be offered as tribute.

The bone knife was raised and then lowered.

There were no screams, no struggles, only a splash of warm blood on the ground.

Blood seeped down the stone slope, staining the dust and grass roots, forming thin red veins on the ground.

Drawn by some invisible force, it slowly flowed into the center of the mountain valley, into that ancient blood array.

The surrounding fog churned, and a wind seemed to rise, but no sound could be heard.

As the crimson color deepened, the last rays of the setting sun, which had been hanging in the sky, were finally swallowed up by the thick fog.

Only the dark red light remained, pressing down heavily overhead.

A tall, thin Taoist priest stood at the rear of the formation. Since entering the mountain valley, he had maintained an indifferent expression, his eyes as calm as an ancient well.

But now that the blood sacrifice has begun, it is difficult to maintain the tranquility of the Taoist sect.

His eyes narrowed, as if a surge of anger was rising within them.

With a flick of his whisk, the talisman light suddenly rose, and his Taoist robe billowed, seemingly with the force of thunder and wind, clearly indicating that he had truly become enraged.

Before his fellow disciples could speak, he took a step forward, his feet creating a gust of wind, his figure as swift as lightning, heading straight for the blood array in the mountain valley.

But he was fast, and the blood mist was even faster and more ruthless.

A flash of blood-red light appeared, and a red shadow suddenly leaped up from the mist, like a gaping maw, swallowing him whole without any fancy moves.

The clear air enters the mist, swirling and rolling like lamp flames in water.

At first, there was a faint tremor of light, but it lasted only a moment before it went out like a lamp running out of oil.

The Taoist paused slightly in the mist, and then blood quickly spread across his limbs and bones.

It was as if an invisible hand was slowly draining the lifeblood from his bones.

In an instant, his face slumped, his cheekbones protruded, his sideburns turned yellow and curly like withered grass, and his eyes sank into their sockets, his divine light extinguished.

Upon seeing this, the faces of the Taoist priests behind them all changed.

Disregarding everything else, talismans flew everywhere and magical artifacts resonated.

With a sharp shout, pure energy surged and rose majestically, actually tearing a gash in the blood mist.

A flash of light appeared, like a line of white tearing through the night, enveloping the Taoist's mangled body and pulling him out of the mist.

The Taoist priest was no longer human.

His body was skin and bones, his face was eerily pale, and his eyes were hidden in their sockets, like beads about to roll off.

If it weren't for the rise and fall of his chest, everyone would probably think that this was a standing, desiccated corpse.

The Taoist priests looked at each other, their eyes filled with horror.

No one spoke, and no one dared to look into the blood mist again.

Master Chongxu flicked his sleeve, said nothing, and simply raised his hand to make a gesture.

The Taoist priests tacitly helped up the tall, thin Taoist priest who had almost turned into a living talisman, bowed their heads, and quickly retreated.

In no time at all, they had retreated into the village and dared not linger any longer.

The soldiers in the stronghold were already trapped inside the formation, and their hearts were filled with suspicion.

Now, suddenly, these Taoist priests in green robes, who had just been as ethereal as immortals, were seen retreating with their faces covered in dust.

Some people are so thin they're just skin and bones, their eyeballs almost popping out.

The village fell silent for a moment, filled only with a heavy, deathly atmosphere.

Master Chongxu did not utter a word, but simply covered his face with his robe sleeves and walked straight through the gate. His posture was normal, but his expression was unclear.

On one side of the gate, Jiang Liang had returned from outside and was standing quietly by the gate, following behind Zhao Xiaowei.

As Master Chongxu stepped into the village gate, he ran into Ma Changfeng.

The two looked at each other for a moment, without exchanging pleasantries or showing any courtesy.

With just a few words to ascertain the situation, he turned his gaze to the winding, slowly flowing stream of blood.

A glint flashed in the real man's eyes, and with a flick of his sleeve, his expression turned unusually serious.

He whispered, "The Blood Array is about to be completed."

"A step later, and the fog will lock the formation... no one can save the people in this village."

Before he could finish speaking, he turned and looked at the spot where the blood had pooled.

"The key to the formation is right beneath that confluence of streams."

To put it lightly.

Ma Changfeng's eyelids twitched slightly; how could he not know that place was crucial?
We sent people to investigate long ago, but there has been no news since.

The screams had long since ceased above the mountain valley.

Those abducted people are now nothing but piles of bones and blood, like firewood that has been thrown away and wasted.

The Ghost Bun tribesmen around them stopped shouting and instead knelt down, their foreheads covered in dust, muttering incantations.

It's unclear whether it's calling out or waiting.

The sky had darkened, and the blood mist grew thicker, churning in the wind and pressing in layer upon layer.

Master Chongxu narrowed his eyes.

That usual arrogance was gone, leaving only an indescribable chill.

With a flick of his sleeves and a shake of his whisk, he said nothing more and walked through the bloodstains toward the deepest part of the village.

Ma Changfeng stood aside and glanced back at the military supervisor from Luoyang.

The two exchanged glances, said nothing, and without hesitation, followed him.

The other generals exchanged glances, nodded, and set off one after another.

Jiang Liang blended into the crowd, not drawing attention, and silently followed behind Commandant Zhao.

The group followed the blood lines. The terrain in the village was already low-lying, and this place was even lower, with blood lines winding in from all sides and converging at one point.

In the center of that low-lying area, a pool of blood had already formed.

The pool of blood is not deep, yet its bottom is unseen.

Its color was as dark as saturated ink, swallowing up most of the sunlight.

The bubbles in the pool churned and gurgled, like someone whispering underwater.

All the Taoist priests had solemn expressions.

Having suffered a setback in the past, no one dares to go alone now.

The sound of sleeves billowing filled the air as the Taoists took their positions, forming hand seals and assuming their stances, drawing forth a powerful aura from within the formation.

The clear light condensed and shimmered, like a delicate hand slowly reaching towards the blood pool from afar.

The pool of blood remained still and silent.

But as soon as Qingguang touched it, the blood seemed to be disturbed, and suddenly rippled, gurgling and rolling, and a piece of white rib emerged.

The bones were devoid of flesh and blood, yet showed no signs of decay. Blood vessels clung to them, as if veins were seeping from the bone marrow, with a faint pulse.

When the light touched it lightly, the surrounding blood energy suddenly trembled, as if awakened by the spring chill.

In an instant, the clear light was washed away and scattered like smoke, leaving not even a ripple.

The blood pool remained silent, but a quieter silence settled over the arena.

Master Chongxu stood in front, his brows slightly furrowed, his fingers moving lightly, as if he had unconsciously tensed his joints.

After a moment, he merely chuckled lightly, his tone extremely indifferent:

"What a bizarre profession."

He spoke casually, but his subordinates dared not be negligent in the slightest, and had already pulled out a golden talisman from their sleeves.

The talisman was no bigger than the palm of my hand, with golden light flowing across it. The runes on it were like knives, each stroke heavy and imbued with energy, as if it contained a whole secret scroll.

Upon seeing this, the Taoist priests did not hesitate and immediately changed their formation.

Righteous energy surged like a tide, and clear light cascaded like a waterfall, all pouring into the golden talisman.

The golden talisman trembled slightly, emitting a low, resonant sound.

Immediately, a great burst of light erupted from the talisman, layer upon layer, illuminating the gloomy surroundings inch by inch.

Master Chongxu's lips twitched slightly, revealing the reluctance in his heart.

But with life at stake, no matter how many thoughts you have, you can only swallow them down.

He chanted the incantation in a low voice, but each word sounded like the striking of a bronze bell.

With a flick of his sleeve, he gently patted the golden talisman on his forehead.

The talisman shattered instantly, transforming into a long golden flame dragon that swallowed him whole in a flash.

A burst of light appeared, and the real person was surrounded by a brilliant golden light, his aura rising steadily, and the hem of his robes dancing without wind.

His figure, sculpted in the golden light, exuded a transcendent aura.

Even seasoned military commanders standing nearby couldn't help but feel a chill and a sense of awe.

The whispers that had been barely contained now completely fell silent.

Without lingering, the Golden Light transformed into a beam and swept out, heading straight for the Blood Pool.

At that moment, the blood pool surged with a stench, thick as paste, almost solidified, as if it had been waiting for him all along.

A surge of blood rose, attempting to swallow the golden light into its bones, but it was torn apart in one fell swoop.

The ribs in the pool trembled slightly, as if startled.

The next instant, an even more chilling white mist rose from his bones.

The white mist was silent, and it fought with the golden light like a python, coiling and turning endlessly. The interplay of light and shadow was like the Milky Way being stirred, causing waves and mist to surge in the pool.

Around the ribs, blood and qi flow continuously, like tides churning in a well.

Meanwhile, the pure energy within the formation converged from the four directions of the formation plate, wave after wave, drop by drop.

The two forces confronted each other, locked in a stalemate, their gold and white hues intertwined, like two dragons biting each other in a painting, and for a time it was difficult to determine who was superior.

Just then, a great battle cry suddenly erupted all around the village. The barbarian demons who were supposed to lie in wait did not patiently wait as everyone expected, but instead swarmed down before the blood mist could close in.

The sounds of battle roared like thunder, and the crowd surged forward like a tidal wave.

The garrisoned soldiers were caught off guard by this attack, their formation was thrown into disarray, and several rows of men fell to the blades in an instant.

However, being seasoned veterans, their panic lasted only a moment before someone shouted.

Swords and shields flew, the military formation had already closed in, protecting the main force in the stronghold.

The barbarians, however, seemed to have gone mad.

His eyes were bloodshot, his mouth was stretched open, like a smile, like a bite, and he took one step at a time, cutting into the gaps between people.

They didn't distinguish between friend and foe; they only cared about bloodshed.

Soldiers lost arms and fell to the ground, and barbarians were also cut down by shield blades, their blood splattering like rain, covering the battle formations on the ground.

The array patterns were originally etched into the ground like ravines, each thread connecting to the central core.

A drop of blood, once inside, is drawn in and meanders towards the blood pool in the village.

As the bloodstains slowly receded, another ghostly figure quietly appeared in the mist, drifting eerily and watching the intruders in the village, as if trying to remember someone's face.

Within the pool of blood, yin energy and golden light were intertwined and entangled.

They were evenly matched, and neither could gain the upper hand.

But when that fresh, hot blood entered the pool, it was like pouring a raging fire into a furnace, instantly causing the evil energy to surge.

The pale, yin energy, like a wild beast just awakening, shuddered and suddenly lunged fiercely towards the golden light.

The golden light trembled slightly, like an autumn lamp swaying in the wind, and finally couldn't hold on any longer. With a "snap," it scattered into fragments of light.

The dozen or so Taoists in the formation were all shocked.

Some people groaned, some turned red-faced, and some staggered backward.

His breathing became disordered for a moment, as if his true energy was being reversed by the backlash, making him unable to stand steadily.

As the talisman extinguished, the light faded, and the color drained from Master Chongxu's face.

He felt a chill run down his spine, realizing the situation was dire, and was about to turn back.

But the eerie white aura seemed to have been waiting nearby, and suddenly it pounced and entangled his limbs and bones.

In the blink of an eye, Master Chongxu was like a lamp with its wick removed, his blood and energy completely drained, and his spirit and soul dissipated.

Even the true energy in his dantian was completely drained by the yin energy.

He struggled, but before he could even react, he was already lifeless.

When everyone came to their senses, they saw a stiff, withered corpse beside the blood pool.

The robes were still there, but the person had become as thin as an old tree branch, with clearly defined joints and skin as thin as paper.

If it weren't for the golden Taoist robe with its intricate patterns, it would be truly difficult to connect this afterimage with the Taoist master from earlier.

The Taoist priests and soldiers in the arena were all terrified, and for a moment there was complete silence, with only a chilling fear creeping into their hearts.

But the yin energy did not stop there.

Instead, as if it had tasted the sweetness, it became even more ferocious, and with a fierce swirl, it rushed straight towards the people by the blood pool.

The aura was like a knife, cold and chilling; even before it reached me, my knees began to buckle.

No one dared to accept it.

As a result, there was no order to the game anymore; people were flying around, and it was a complete mess.

This group of people were either Taoist masters or battlefield generals, each with some kind of protective ability, and they were all quite fast on their feet.

The wisp of yin energy hovered in the air for a moment, then lingered for a while before swimming towards the slowest person in the crowd.

It was Jiang Liang.

Jiang Liang was aware of the risks and took desperate steps.

But that malevolent energy was like a carbuncle clinging to the bone, getting closer and closer the more you tried to avoid it.

A chill ran down his neck, Jiang Liang's eyes turned bloodshot, he was panting heavily, and his soul was in his throat.

Life and death hang in the balance.

Before he could even turn around properly, his body moved first.

Jiang Liang suddenly twisted his waist, almost instinctively, and pulled out the long stick from his back, swinging it behind him.

The staff was dark and unadorned, except for the three copper bands at the tip, which flashed coldly in the bloody light.

That was the flash.

The yin energy suddenly stopped, and the surrounding white mist also silently dissipated.

There was no wind, no sound, as if that chilling aura had never existed. In an instant, it vanished without a trace.

Only the inconspicuous stick head remained at the angle it had been swung at, its copper band gleaming, reflecting the streaks of blood on the ground.

For some unknown reason, the blood pool suddenly withdrew its power and slowly closed up.

As the pool water churned, the pale white rib trembled slightly before sinking and disappearing into the bottom of the pool.

Jiang Liang maintained the posture of holding the stick with both hands, his shoulders trembling slightly, his breathing short, but his back straight.

His body was a little stiff, and the tip of the stick drooped slightly, as if he hadn't come to his senses yet.

Yet my mind was clearer than ever before.

Looking into the pool of blood, one could see that the piece of white rib was still trembling slightly, neither struggling nor throbbing.

It seemed more like hesitation.

A strange thought suddenly came to mind.

It is afraid; it is hiding.

As for what he was afraid of, he didn't know.

There's no need to know.

The blood and qi surged like a tide, and the surroundings became increasingly pungent and foul.

But in Jiang Liang's heart, an old saying resurfaced from the depths of his mind.

That was something my father, when I was little, would pat my forehead and recite while shaking his head, when he was drunk:

"We should press on with our remaining strength to pursue the fleeing enemy."

He was illiterate from a young age and could not discern any noble character or spirit.

That one line, in particular, stuck in my mind like a nail, and has remained there for all these years.

The blood pool is closing up, and the severed rib is slowly disappearing into the waves of blood.

The opportunity to fight is fleeting.

The blood and qi burned from the soles of his feet to his heart, and the courage deep within his bones surged up.

Before Jiang Liang could decide what to do, his body moved first.

With a push of his feet, he shot out like an arrow released from a bow.

He raised the long staff above his head, the three copper bands reflecting a cold light under the blood mist, making his eyes shine even brighter.

The blood pool surged like a tide, and his ribs trembled violently.

It's horrifying at first glance.

But in Jiang Liang's eyes, it was clearly...

He showed his incompetence.

The long staff was swung out, its shadow like a crescent moon.

Wherever he passed, the blood energy scattered like oil smoke that had been touched by fire, keeping everyone at least three feet away.

But this thing is no ordinary evil.

It recedes quickly, but solidifies even faster.

In the blink of an eye, another blood thorn, about an inch long, appeared behind him. It was as sharp as a needle and went straight for his back without making a sound.

Outside the blood pool, a female Taoist priest was already pale, with a thin line of bright red blood seeping from her lips.

She didn't speak, but a mouthful of blood quietly spurted from the tip of her tongue, splashing onto the array plate.

The vital energy had long been exhausted, yet a wisp of it was forced out, firmly holding onto the wisp of pure energy and covering the blood pool.

"laugh!"

A clear light pierced the sky, just like a night breeze on the river.

The bloodstain dissipated silently in an instant, like paper ash in water, with just a light touch.

Seeing this, the other Taoists also stopped hesitating.

In an instant, blood splattered everywhere within the formation, and talisman plates dripped like rain.

A bright light shone from the array plate, like the rising sun, illuminating the entire village as if it were daytime.

The blood pool trembled violently.

The pool water churned and boiled, as if scorched by flames, bubbling and foaming with countless tiny blood bubbles.

Occasionally, a few wisps of blood energy would gather and disperse, as if struggling or moaning.

Jiang Liang's steps remained steady. He wielded his long staff with dazzling flourishes, cutting through the blood with each step, heading straight for the bottom of the pool.

The section of white rib at the bottom of the pool suddenly trembled violently, as if it had gone mad.

The yin energy surged out suddenly, no longer the previous ethereal white mist, but shimmering with a deep red blood-red light.

It was like a living soul being forcibly squeezed out of an inanimate object.

But before it could get close, the seemingly ordinary old wooden stick was thrown out horizontally.

The copper hoop gleamed slightly, like a lamp behind someone's window paper.

The yin energy came with great force, but it was like smoke striking a bell; before it could struggle, it was completely destroyed.

Jiang Liang swung the stick, gritted his teeth, and without uttering a sound, smashed the stick down like a mountain.

"Click."

A crisp sound, like porcelain shards shattering on the ground.

The rib shattered instantly, turning into fragments that scattered in all directions.

After landing, there was not a single unusual movement.

The blood pool froze, as if the entire surface of water had been instantly stopped.

The light was still there, the blood and energy had not yet been stirred, and it was smashed through by a single blow.

(End of this chapter)