He has been reincarnated through countless worlds, adorned with billions of mythological terms!

The old man with the lamp walked to the center of the ancient city ruins, where the enormous shadow of the Demon Buddha enveloped him.

He raised his head, and the golden light in Huang Yu's right eye slowly moved, while the black body of the Demon Buddha, hundreds of feet tall, was reflected in his left pupil.

He looked calm, like a traveler standing at the foot of a mountain looking up at an avalanche—not because avalanches weren't scary, but because he had decided not to run.

"A thousand years."

The old man holding the lamp spoke, his voice hoarse and dry, "Back then, in order to seal you under this desert, I watched as eighteen golden Buddhas passed away one by one."

"The youngest one is only nineteen years old. He was captured by the extraterrestrial demons and used as a medicine man for three years. All his bones were replaced with magical artifacts. He was finally rescued, but before his injuries had even healed, he volunteered to be the last link in the seal. He said that since his body was already ruined, he might as well make his ruin more valuable."

The Demon Buddha lowered his head, his pupil-less, pitch-black eyes fixed on the tiny figure on the ground.

The old man holding the lamp placed the luminous pearl lantern at his feet and took out a string of prayer beads from his sleeve.

The rosary beads are completely black, each bead is only the size of a soybean, and the surface has no luster, like a string of dried ink spots.

These are not ordinary prayer beads—they are powdered relics left behind by the eighteen golden Buddhas after their passing, mixed with their essence and blood, and made one bead at a time.

It has been polished for a full thousand years.

He has refined a complete Buddhist and Taoist law.

"I have lived for a long time, and before my cultivation level dropped, it only reached the peak of Arhat."

He slipped the rosary beads onto his wrist. "Not many, but just enough."

"But what this old monk has accumulated over a thousand years is enough to give you a good drink."

He put his hands together and chanted a Buddhist prayer.

The earth beneath their feet, an endless desert, began to tremble.

It was the earth's veins across the entire desert that were responding to his call.

He merged his Buddhist and Taoist principles with the earth's veins in the endless desert; the principles were the earth's veins, and the earth's veins were the principles.

If the Demon Buddha wants to leave this desert, he must first overturn this desert.

The Demon Buddha raised a hand and slapped it down at him.

The old man holding the lantern did not dodge. He slammed the luminous pearl lantern to the ground, and the base of the lantern was deeply embedded in the rock.

The tiny golden dot inside the luminous pearl suddenly expanded, transforming into a miniature sun. Golden Buddhist light surged out from the lantern, condensing into a golden light curtain thousands of feet high above his head.

The screen was filled with dense Sanskrit characters, each one representing the lifelong vow of a high-ranking monk.

The Demon Buddha's giant hand slammed onto the light screen.

There was no sound—because the sound was too loud, exceeding the limits of what the human ear can detect.

The moment the light screen made contact with the giant hand, the sand dunes within a radius of a hundred miles were simultaneously overturned by the shock wave, and the sand surged in all directions like ocean waves, revealing the black basalt that had been buried for thousands of years.

The clouds in the sky were shaken apart, revealing a huge circular hole.

In the distance, the ruins of the ancient city were silently reduced to dust by the shockwave, and even the dust was blown away without a trace.

The light curtain did not break.

The old man holding the lamp stood below the light screen, his feet sinking into the rock up to his knees, and the first bead on his wrist lit up—the relic of the head of the eighteen golden Buddhas was burning.

The Demon Buddha withdrew his hand, revealing a deep, bone-revealing burn mark on his palm.

Golden flames emanated from the edges of the burn marks, spreading outwards along the palm lines. Wherever they passed, the black skin cracked and peeled away, revealing the dark red texture beneath.

The Demon Buddha looked down at the burn marks on his palm and let out a low hiss.

The old man holding the lamp didn't give it a chance to catch its breath.

He picked up the lantern and stepped out of the light curtain. With each step he took, a golden lotus flower bloomed beneath his feet. The moment the lotus flower bloomed, he forcibly rewrote the rules of heaven and earth within a hundred feet around him—no longer the domain of the demon Buddha, but his Buddhist kingdom.

He walked towards the Demon Buddha from the front, and the second and third beads on his wrist lit up at the same time.

The gray-robed youth stood on the Demon Buddha's shoulder, watching the old monk approach step by step below.

He did not make a move.

He knew that it would be useless for him to intervene—the old man with the lamp was now beyond his control.

The old monk was burning everything he had—his relics, his essence, his laws, his earth veins, even his chance for reincarnation—all of it, just to gain the power for this battle.

The Demon Buddha clasped his hands together, interlaced his fingers, and clenched them into a giant fist before slamming it down.

The space itself was shattered along the trajectory of the fist, revealing the void turbulence behind it.

The entire space was directly breached.

The old man holding the lantern raised it above his head, and golden Buddhist light burst forth from the lantern, condensing into eighteen golden halos in front of him. Each halo represented the life vow of a golden Buddha.

The fist smashed through the first halo, the second halo, and the third halo.

Each time the lamp was smashed through a hole, the old man's arm trembled, and one of the prayer beads on his wrist lit up.

When he hit the ninth strike, blood began to seep from his mouth and nose. The blood dripped onto his clothes and was evaporated into a pale golden mist by the Buddha's light.

When he hit the eighteenth strike, golden light emanated from his eyes.

His Buddhist and Taoist principles are burning from within.

The last rosary bead lit up.

The eighteen prayer beads burned simultaneously, transforming into eighteen golden chains that flew out from the old man's wrist. The chains pierced through space and wrapped directly around the demon Buddha's arms, legs, torso, and neck.

The chains were inscribed with the Sanskrit characters representing the eighteen golden Buddhas, each character a seal. The eighteen seals overlapped, firmly locking the hundred-foot-tall demon Buddha's body in place.

The Demon Buddha let out a deafening roar and suddenly stretched his arms outward.

The three chains snapped simultaneously, their fragments turning into golden specks of light that dissipated into the air.

The old man holding the lantern smashed it against the Demon Buddha's chest, where there was an extremely faint golden mark—the seal formed from the heart of the last of the Eighteen Golden Buddhas. Although it had been eroded by the Demon Buddha for a thousand years, the mark was still there.

The lantern exploded the moment it hit the brand, the luminous pearl shattered, and the Buddhist and Taoist laws sealed inside poured out like a flood, spreading, permeating, and taking root along the texture of the brand.

The Demon Buddha froze.

Golden flames spread from the brand on its chest to its entire body, burning the black Sanskrit characters to ashes wherever they passed, and cracking its skin into tortoise-shell-like patterns.

Its massive body began to retreat, leaving behind a large patch of scorched earth beneath its feet with each step.

The gray-robed youth frowned.

He never expected the old man holding the lamp to fight like this.

But he also realized that the old man holding the lamp had no strength left.

After the lantern shattered, the prayer beads on his wrist also burned out, and he stood there like an oil lamp about to burn out.

He put his hands together and deeply recited "Amitabha Buddha".

Then his body began to transform into golden specks of light from the soles of his feet. The specks of light flew upwards and dissipated into his hundred-foot-tall golden body.

The old man holding the lamp died in battle.

From this moment on, the Buddhist temple in the endless desert ceases to exist.