Both start in hell: but their talents are multiplied a hundredfold.

A golden rainbow of light crashed into the front courtyard of Cihang Temple with the force of a thunderbolt, causing the ground to tremble violently. The bluestone bricks cracked inch by inch like a spider web, and dust and gravel flew everywhere.

Several century-old ginkgo trees in the courtyard were snapped in half by the blast wave, making a cracking sound as they succumbed to their suffocating weight.

The young novice monk, who was sweeping the courtyard, was knocked to the ground by the impact, and the broom flew far away from his hand.

He slumped to the ground, looking up at the four figures descending from the sky. His pupils contracted sharply, and his lips trembled for a long time before he managed to squeeze out a distorted scream.

"You... youkai!"

This scream was like stirring up a hornet's nest.

Inside Cihang Temple, bells and drums rang out in unison, and dozens of monks swarmed out from various halls, wielding sticks and knives, and surrounded the four people.

However, the monks looked terrified, their weapons trembling violently, and none of them dared to step forward first.

Shen Jue didn't even glance at them. His gaze passed over the layers of people and landed on the tightly closed vermilion temple door in front of him.

The temple gate was three zhang high, entirely painted vermilion and gilded, with ninety-nine gilded copper nails.

Above the door hangs a large plaque made of golden nanmu wood, inscribed with the four characters "慈航普渡" (Compassionate Salvation), which is said to be personally written by the current emperor.

The two stone lion statues in front of the gate stand with their heads held high and eyes glaring, their feet resting on lotus thrones, exuding an extraordinary aura.

It's just a gate, yet it's more imposing than the gates of many officials' residences in the capital.

"Oh."

Shen Jue chuckled.

He reached his right hand out from under his robe, his five fingers slightly spread, and casually struck forward with his palm.

"boom!"

A golden palm print shot out, growing larger in the wind, instantly becoming the size of a door panel, and with overwhelming force, slammed heavily onto the vermilion gate.

The heavy door panel looked as if it had been struck head-on by a battering ram; all ninety-nine gilded copper nails flew off at once, and wood chips and gold dust exploded everywhere.

The two door panels flew inwards and crashed heavily onto the incense burner in the courtyard, shattering the half-person-high bronze incense burner into pieces, sending incense ash flying everywhere.

The monks who had been blocking the way with sticks stared blankly at the shattered temple gate, some not even noticing their sticks slipping from their hands.

What kind of place is their Cihang Temple? It is the residence of the Imperial Preceptor, a sacred place where the Emperor often comes to meditate, and all the civil and military officials in the court treat even a sweeping monk in the temple with utmost respect.

Since the temple was built, no one has dared to smash the door, let alone scratch the paint on it.

Today, it was smashed to pieces by a single palm strike.

The situation was even worse for the worshippers who came to offer incense in the early morning.

Most of these worshippers were high-ranking officials and their families from the capital. They had arrived at Cihang Temple in sedan chairs before dawn to be the first to offer incense, but they were terrified by this sudden turn of events.

Several women in fine clothes collapsed to the ground, huddled together, trembling.

A middle-aged man in official robes scrambled to hide behind the remains of an incense burner, his jaw chattering.

Several timid pageboys and servants had already fainted.

"The Imperial Preceptor Temple! Someone is vandalizing the Imperial Preceptor Temple!" Someone murmured in a trembling voice, their tone filled with disbelief, as if the sky had fallen.

"presumptuous!"

A loud shout came from the direction of the inner hall.

Four figures darted out like ghosts and landed in front of the broken temple gate.

The four men were all dressed as monks, but their robes were different colors: blue, white, red, and black.

"Who dares to trespass on the Imperial Preceptor's temple!" shouted the blue-robed demonic monk. He wore a blue kasaya, held a staff, had a meditative expression, and spoke in a booming voice.

"You destroyed my temple gate and frightened my worshippers; you deserve to die!" the white-robed demonic monk interjected. He wore a white kasaya, held a bodhi seed in his hand, and had a kind face and a gentle smile.

The black-robed demonic monk remained silent, merely staring coldly at the four of them, turning the prayer beads in his hand. He was as thin as a rake, yet his eyes blazed like torches.

The red-robed demon monk had a solemn and dignified appearance, with light emanating from his palms, from which two balls of Buddhist fire were formed.

Shen Jue stood still, not even lifting her eyelids.

"Brother Zuo."

"Um."

Zuo Qianhu took a step forward.

His hand gripped the hilt of the broadsword slung over his shoulder.

Red lines appeared on his face; these were the patterns formed from the internal energy characteristics he had comprehended from the "Breathing Technique 2.0".

No one saw how he drew his sword.

The broadsword seemed to come alive in his hands, its blade tracing a dazzling arc in the morning light.

Everyone only saw a blur before their eyes as the wind from the blade tore through the air in an instant, splitting into four streams that simultaneously slashed at the four demonic monks.

It was just a single act of drawing the sword.

Left Commander slowly sheathed his long sword, the blade making a very soft, crisp sound as it went into its sheath.

Only when the sound reached everyone's ears did the four demonic monks fall backward at the same time.

The four demonic monks, who had achieved great spiritual cultivation, lay on the ground without any fatal wounds, unable to rise again.

The monks who had been watching stood frozen in place, their sticks falling to the ground with a clatter.

Someone glanced furtively at Commander Zuo, then quickly lowered their head, the back of their monk's robe already soaked with cold sweat.

Commander Zuo turned to look at Shen Jue. "Brother Shen."

"Should we reveal the true nature of this wicked monk to the world next?"

"Let all the officials in the court and the people of the capital come and see for themselves what kind of living Buddha they worship every day."

"No need."

Shen Jue interrupted him, a slight smile playing on her lips.

He stepped across the broken threshold, his red robe brushing against the mess on the ground.

"Brother Zuo, do you mean to make a big fuss, announce it widely, and confront him face to face?" Shen Jue said without turning his head, his tone tinged with amusement.

"To give him time to prepare his speech, time for the court officials to take sides, and time for his misled followers to pick up sticks and protect their Living Buddha?"

Commander Zuo frowned: "If we don't do it this way, wouldn't our actions be illegitimate and lack legitimacy?"

"Improper title?" Shen Jue suddenly stopped and turned around, his face bearing his usual ambiguous smile.

"Brother Zuo, have we come here today to debate the scriptures with him, or to reason with him?"

Zuo Qianhu remained silent.

"Neither," Shen Jue said for him, then turned around and faced the depths of the main hall.

The next moment, a thunderous roar exploded from his mouth, the sound waves rolling like thunder splitting the sky, shaking the entire Cihang Temple.

The bronze bell under the corridor hummed on its own, even though no one was striking it. The remaining ginkgo leaves in the courtyard rustled down, and the monks who had just gotten up were so startled by the sound that they fell back to the ground.

"Universal Salvation! Compassionate Voyage!"

The entire imperial city was awakened by Shen Jue's roar!

Even the emperor in the palace was so frightened by this loud shout that he rolled off his bed!

"Get out here, you little monk!"

Shen Jue chose the European and American style of play; he went straight for it, too lazy to argue with that centipede demon about life philosophy or other boring formalities.

Deep within the Mahavira Hall, on the golden lotus throne, a figure draped in a brocade robe slowly opened his eyes.