My cultivation disguise has been exposed by Xiao Sizi.

Let's keep going.

Li Chen said it casually.

The deeper you go, the more desolate the surrounding scenery becomes.

The yellow sand seemed poised to swallow everything.

Just then, the sandstorm in front of us gradually dissipated.

A dilapidated ancient temple, mostly buried by yellow sand, stood alone in everyone's sight.

This ancient temple appears to have been abandoned for countless years.

The red walls of the courtyard have peeled away, revealing the blue bricks underneath.

The half-broken wooden door creaked and groaned in the wind, and the plaque on the door was covered in dust, making the writing illegible.

Li Chen led the group, pushed open the rickety wooden door, and entered the main hall of the ancient temple.

The main hall was dimly lit.

There are no magnificent Buddha statues here, nor the wafting fragrance of sandalwood incense.

In the center of the empty hall, there was only a worn-out prayer cushion.

On the prayer mat, an old monk, so thin he was just skin and bones, sat cross-legged.

The old monk's robe had turned grayish-black, making it impossible to discern its original color.

He was completely lifeless, like a dried corpse that had been dried for a hundred years.

And behind the old monk.

At the end of the main hall, there was a pool of water about ten feet square.

But the water in this pool was as black as ink!

Thick, black bubbles churned on the water's surface, each bursting releasing a terrifying, violent demonic aura.

This demonic energy was cold and evil, as if it connected to the deepest part of the Netherworld.

The withered old monk stood guard over the dark, demonic spring.

I heard the door open.

The old monk, who looked like a dried-up corpse, trembled slightly.

He slowly raised his skeletal head.

Two eerie green flames suddenly ignited in the deep-set eye sockets.

The old monk's gaze swept over Li Chen and Si Zi, finally fixing on Monk Mingxin.

Suddenly, an intense surge of resentment and murderous intent erupted from those lifeless, dead fish eyes.

"The lackeys of Leiyin Temple..."

The old monk emitted a hoarse sound from his throat, like two rough stones rubbing together.

"I've guarded it for a hundred years... and you've finally come to steal the Demon Spring."

Accompanied by a hoarse roar.

The old monk's withered, twig-like fingers suddenly formed a strange mudra.

boom!

A violent and incomparably powerful black spiritual pressure, mixed with a death wish of mutual destruction.

The pitch-black skull handprint reeked of decay and death.

It was like a mountain moved from the underworld, crashing down on the crowd at the entrance of the main hall.

The wind howled, and the already dilapidated windows of the ancient temple shattered in the fierce wind.

Although this withered old monk looked like a dried corpse, the spiritual pressure unleashed by his attack was incredibly close to that of a mid-stage Nascent Soul cultivator.

Li Chen stood still, his eyes slightly cold, preparing to raise his hand and crush the handprint.

A gray figure stepped forward and blocked his way.

"Your Highness, please wait."

The monk Mingxin's eyes were wide open, and his tattered robes fluttered in the cold wind.

He clasped his hands together, his left side radiating golden light, while his right side churned with red light.

"This old Zen master harbored great resentment."

"It was a deep voice," said the monk Mingxin.

"Let this humble monk reason with him and calm his anger."

Having said that, Monk Mingxin stomped his foot.

The blue bricks on the ground cracked instantly, and he charged towards the huge black handprint like a cannonball.

He didn't use any magic weapons, but instead directly swung his right fist, which was flashing with golden and red light.

The grandeur of Mahayana Buddhism and the ferocity of dark red malevolent energy are perfectly integrated in this punch.

"Old Zen Master, please hear a word from this humble monk."

With a loud shout, the monk Mingxin slammed his fist into the dark skull handprint.

"boom."

A dull, loud bang exploded in the hall, causing dust to fall from the roof.

However, the scene that Monk Mingxin had envisioned—"dispersing the demonic energy with a punch and then pressing the old monk down to chant sutras"—did not occur.

That old monk has been guarding this place for a hundred years; the power he has accumulated within him must be terrifying.

The dark handprint paused only slightly before unleashing a tremendous, overwhelming force of recoil.

"Bang."

Monk Mingxin didn't even have time to utter a sound.

His body, which had just been forged into an ironclad form, was as if it had been struck head-on by a charging rhinoceros.

He flew back at twice the speed he had when he charged forward.

He crashed heavily onto the sandy ground in the yard, rolling seven or eight times before stopping.

His face was covered in dust and dirt, and a trickle of blood oozed from the corner of his mouth.

"Cough cough..."

Monk Mingxin clutched his chest as he got up, his face full of astonishment.

The old monk looked like he was about to die, yet his fists were so many times harder than the bandit leader's.

Inside the main hall, the old monk forced Mingxin back with a single move and was preparing to press his advantage.

But his eyes, which were flashing with eerie green flames, suddenly fixed intently on Monk Mingxin.

The old monk's withered chest heaved violently.

"You... the aura of Buddha emanating from you..."

The old monk's voice, sharp as if polished with sandpaper, revealed an incredulous astonishment.

"You are not a lackey of Xiaoleiyin Temple."

He had seen far too many monks at Xiaoleiyin Temple.

Those people may appear glamorous on the surface, but deep down they reek of a sweet, bloodthirsty stench, evil and hypocritical.

But the young monk he had just knocked away possessed an aura of intertwined gold and red that was wildly unorthodox and even had a touch of demonic power.

Yet he was upright and righteous, and unparalleled in his fierceness.

There was not a single wailing of wronged souls inside, only a grand vision to quell all injustices in the world.

This is a Dharma form that only a person who truly cares for all living beings can cultivate.

The eerie green flame in the old monk's eyes gradually died out.

He seemed to have all his strength drained away in an instant, his body went limp, and he slumped back onto the tattered futon.

"Cough cough cough..."

Large spurts of black blood gushed from the old monk's mouth, splattering onto the bluestone slab and making a sizzling, corrosive sound.

He wiggled his withered hand bones, his tone revealing a deep weariness and sorrow.

"I misjudged you."

"Since you are not the evil monks of Leiyin Temple, then you should leave quickly."

"This place is infiltrated by demonic energy. If a living person stays here for too long, they will turn into a mindless walking corpse."

Li Chen led Sizi across the threshold and slowly approached the main hall.

He glanced at the pitch-black pool of water behind the old monk, which was constantly bubbling with black bubbles, and his brows furrowed slightly.

"There must have been a top-grade spiritual vein beneath this pool."

Li Chen spoke calmly, yet his words revealed the secret of heaven.

"The water contains the eye of a sacred spring, which should be a blessed land that nourishes the local people."

"How did it turn into this demonic, ghostly appearance?"