Longevity Martial Arts: Obtain Golden Affixes at the Start

Shen Da, who had just been kicked to death by him, actually stood up again!

What's going on??

The system clearly indicated that a Blood Refining Realm Lesser Completion martial artist had been killed, so why isn't he dead yet?

Xia Ping and Wang Yan, who were standing nearby, also realized what was happening and immediately distanced themselves.

Xia Ping exclaimed, "No, look at his face... he really does look like a dead person!"

Hong Lang looked closely and saw that Shen Da's eyes were lifeless, his face was bloodless, and blood was still gushing from the wound on his chest. He was indeed dead.

For some reason, he was still able to move, and with much more strength than before.

Before Hong Lang could figure out the reason, Shen Da had already rushed towards him.

Hong Lang dared not be careless. That kick just now had made him feel the power of 'Shen Da'. If he were to take a punch head-on, he would definitely not be able to withstand it.

He dodged the punch and slammed his right leg heavily into Shen Da's knee.

With a snap, his knee broke, and Shen Da's body swayed as he fell heavily to the ground.

"Surely he can't move now?" Hong Lang breathed a sigh of relief.

But then a strange thing happened again: Shen Da slowly crawled to his feet, and his broken knee was put back in place.

Hong Lang's heart sank, and he charged forward again. Each of his Thousand-Pound Strikes struck Shen Da's legs, knocking him to the ground several times.

No matter how much force he used, no matter how many times he knocked Shen Da down, Shen Da could always get up again after a short while, like a puppet that would never fall.

"What...what kind of monster is this?"

Xia Ping and Wang Yan, who were standing to the side, were already stunned.

Hong Lang was also starting to feel the strain. Although he was empowered by the [Dragon Spirit and Tiger Might], the endless consumption of energy was gradually taking its toll.

"This can't go on; we'll be worn down sooner or later."

While dodging Shen Da's attacks, Hong Lang thought rapidly in his mind: "He is dead, yet he can still move. There must be something supporting him."

Legend has it that some unorthodox techniques can control corpses, and the weakness of a corpse is mostly in its head. As long as the head is broken, the control can be completely severed.

Thinking of this, Hong Lang's eyes narrowed, and he had an idea.

Taking advantage of the gap in Shen Da's punch, Hong Lang delivered another sweeping kick to Shen Da's shin.

Shen Da fell to the ground again. This time, before he could get up, Hong Lang had already pounced on him, leaping high into the air and stomping down on Shen Da's neck.

He was certain that the neck was a vital point, and even if "Shen Da" had become this bizarre, he could completely eliminate him by crushing his neck.

But the sensation under his feet sent a chill down Hong Lang's spine. Shen Da's neck was incredibly hard, as if it were encased in a layer of refined iron. He stomped down with all his might, but failed to injure the other party in the slightest.

"How is this possible?!" Hong Lang was shocked.

Before he could recover from his shock, Shen Da had already grabbed his calf tightly with astonishing force, as if he wanted to crush his calf.

Hong Lang kicked with all his might, but Shen Da's hands were like iron clamps, unmoving. No matter how much force he used, he could not break free and was instead pulled unsteadily by the other party.

At this critical moment, Shen Da suddenly raised his head and opened his mouth, and an unknown liquid, like a venomous snake spitting its tongue, sprayed directly at Hong Lang's face.

Hong Lang didn't react in time. The liquid splashed into his eyes, and a burning pain swept over him. He couldn't help but groan.

Oops!

Amidst the excruciating pain, Hong Lang's consciousness gradually blurred, and countless fragments of broken memories flooded into his mind like a tidal wave.

He felt as if he were in a boundless darkness, with no light, no sound, no heaven and earth, only endless nothingness.

After an unknown amount of time, a figure slowly emerged from the darkness—a monk dressed in tattered robes.

He sat upright in a dark grotto, his face withered like an old tree, as if he had been sitting there for a thousand years. It was impossible to tell whether he was embedded in the grotto or whether the grotto was created for him.

Points of light appeared around him, illuminating the space a foot in front of him. The monk slowly opened his eyes, only to find that his eye sockets were empty.

The chanting of Sanskrit arose:

"All beings are trapped in darkness, not because there is no light, but because their hearts are blind. Light is not outside, but within one's own heart. When the heart is filled with light, darkness will dissipate; when the heart is free from hindrance, light will be boundless."

The monk's voice softened: "Darkness is not evil, light is not good; good and evil arise from the heart, light and darkness from thoughts... Even if one is in the deepest hell, if there is light in the heart, one can be saved..."

The chanting of Buddhist hymns echoed continuously, each word striking Hong Lang's heart.

He saw the monk slowly rise, his tattered robes fluttering in the darkness, and he walked slowly but firmly out of the cave.

Outside the cave, there was still endless darkness.

After walking for countless years, just as he was staggering and about to exhaust himself, a faint light appeared on the distant horizon, like a firefly, small and weak, yet exceptionally dazzling in the endless darkness.

The monk stopped, and his aura instantly became intensely hot, a joy born of finding hope. He slowly reached out his hand toward that glimmer of light.

"It turns out that the light has never been far away; I just haven't awakened to it... The light is boundless, the lamp of the heart burns eternally; only by saving oneself can one save others."

The moment those words were spoken, a thunderclap resounded in Hong Lang's mind, and countless fragments of memory merged together.

The fog in his mind instantly dissipated, and an unprecedented enlightenment gushed forth from the depths of his heart like a spring.

Light...Darkness...I am both light and darkness.

Daigo empowerment!

Although Hong Lang was still unable to see, he could clearly perceive everything around him: the already dead 'Shen Da', Xia Ping and Wang Yan's rapid breathing, and the smell of blood in the air.

At the same time, a faint white light appeared in Hong Lang's palm. The light was weak, only about half an inch long, but it was exceptionally pure.

With no thoughts in your mind, only light shines forth!

The First Form of the Great Sun Tathagata Palm: Immeasurable Light!

Hong Lang slowly raised his right hand and, following the scent of Shen Da, gently stroked his head.

Without a loud bang or a strong gust of wind, Shen Da's head instantly began to disintegrate and shatter, his blood and brain matter evaporating in an instant.

His body fell to the ground, motionless, completely reduced to a lifeless pile of remains.

The light is boundless; I have finally entered the gate!

Hong Lang took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. This palm strike had drained all his strength, after all, it was a high-level palm technique worth 150,000 martial arts points, even though he had only used a fraction of his power.

If one had not received the true essence of the teachings, it would have taken countless years of study to master this palm technique.

The first move already possessed such power with only a fraction of its power; if one were to master it... what would the next four moves be like? Hong Lang couldn't help but imagine.

Xia Ping and Wang Yan, who were standing to the side, were already dumbfounded.

All of this happened in an instant. They saw Hong Lang being hit by an unknown liquid, and then a faint light appeared in his palm as Shen Da's head exploded.

"This...this...Third brother, did you see that?"