The Demonic Buddha’s Challenge

Su Mo might have agreed, but her arrow certainly did not.

The thunderous rocket, streaking across the vast sky, pierced through Shui Chen. It detonated, tearing the woman’s body into a bloody mess.

The man next to her couldn’t dodge in time. Amidst the intertwining lightning and fire, he screamed in agony, spinning and jumping in the sky, his eyes shut tight.

Finally, with a ‘thud,’ he rolled to the corner of the wall and fell silent.

From the distant tall building, numerous masters watched, rendered speechless by the spectacle.

Xiao Yao impatiently tapped the table, then turned to the crowd below, his voice firm and resonant:

“Who will step forward? Heavenly Sword? Blood Refiner?…

No one answered. A profound silence fell, so complete that not even a single footstep could be heard.

“Could it be that even Nascent Soul guidance is considered insignificant in your eyes? If you dare not take even the slightest risk, how do you expect to rise above others?” Xiao Yao scoffed, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

The people below remained silent, but a single glance exchanged between them conveyed a mutual understanding.

‘If you’re so formidable, why don’t you go yourself?’

After a moment of silence, Xiao Yao raised the stakes. The reward for both swords would go to whoever proved capable.

Three pills per person. Used correctly, they would guarantee a Golden Core, making it an effortless feat.

“Interesting. It seems this treasure is fated for me.” An old monk, clad in a kasaya, spoke. A crimson heart-mark adorned his brow, chillingly revealed to be painted with infant blood.

He was a Demonic Buddha.

He was, indeed, one of the demonic cultivators.

“Old monk, are you willing to go?” Xiao Yao’s lips curved faintly. He surmised that this man could contend with a Golden Core cultivator, perhaps even having ties to the Demonic Buddha Sect.

“Indeed, but this old monk needs to consume them beforehand,” the Demonic Buddha replied calmly, his expression unwavering.

“Very well.” As the words left his lips, Xiao Yao flicked a finger. Three Spirit Gathering Pills shot forth, imbued with the force of hidden weapons.

The Demonic Buddha’s eyes widened in a furious glare, and in that instant, his aura erupted. His kasaya tore with a resounding rip.

His bronze-hued, muscular physique pulsed with golden light with every breath, as if a Vajra had descended to the mortal realm.

The rapidly spinning Spirit Gathering Pills struck his skin, generating a wisp of white smoke, yet leaving not the slightest mark.

Casting a fleeting glance at Xiao Yao, the Demonic Buddha swallowed the Spirit Gathering Pills and closed his eyes, settling into meditation.

“He truly is from the Demonic Buddha Sect,” Xiao Yao murmured with a faint smile, a clear judgment forming in his mind.

In the cultivation world, the Demonic Buddha Sect was indeed the demonic faction that stood in opposition to the Myriad Sword Saint Sect.

Xiao Yao himself had once clashed with the Demonic Saint Buddha, the founder of that sect.

“A Demonic Buddha, not bad at all.” Xiao Yao, wielding half a Heavenly Sword and possessing near-immortal strength, offered this assessment.

With such terrifying defensive power, coupled with the Demonic Buddha’s hidden explosive strength, subduing Su Mo would be effortless.

After half an hour of absorbing the Spirit Gathering Pills, the Demonic Buddha’s heart swelled with delight. He turned, brimming with confidence, and declared:

“This old monk shall proceed!”

With a powerful leap, he crashed forward with a resounding boom, descending like a meteor.

Su Mo perceived this immense pressure instantly, and without hesitation, she unleashed an arrow.

The Demonic Buddha, plummeting from the sky enveloped in golden light, was struck by an arrow. In an instant, it erupted in a burst of lightning.

Boom! A deep crater erupted in the ground. From several meters below, the Demonic Buddha calmly emerged, his body crackling with electric arcs.

He inhaled sharply, and the electric arcs, like strands of noodles, were swiftly sucked into his mouth.

“Little fox, your lightning isn’t strong enough,” he taunted, his gaze warily fixed on Mo Lian.

He feared a true Golden Core cultivator would intervene and shatter his offense and defense.

“How tedious,” Su Mo muttered, lowering her Dark Thunder Bow. Her chest rose and fell with a slight tremor.

The man before her was truly oblivious to the true power before him!

“Jingmeng?” Su Mo whispered softly.

“Biu~” From the Stillness Sword, suspended in the air, Jingmeng poked out her small head, blinking in confusion.

She seemed to be dragging the bronze sword through the air, drifting towards Su Mo.

“Immortal Sister? What’s wrong?” Jingmeng, the sword spirit, tilted her head, her small hands clutching the Stillness Sword.

“Go up and stab him?” Su Mo asked, sounding uncertain.

Glancing at the bald, muscular man, Jingmeng said nervously:

“I… I don’t know how to fight.”

“Even as a sword spirit, you don’t possess knowledge of swordsmanship?” Su Mo mumbled to herself.

Yet, she herself didn’t know how to wield a sword either. When she had asked Xu Qingzhu to teach her, he had flatly refused.

“How outrageous!” She gritted her teeth in frustration, thinking Xu Qingzhu probably never imagined Su Mo would one day need to use a sword.

“Alas,” Mo Lian sighed, stepping forward.

“Lady Su, perhaps I should handle this. After all, you’ve done enough…”

“Take this!” A thunderous roar erupted as the Demonic Buddha launched a preemptive strike. He had already moved before deliberately shouting, aiming to unnerve his opponents.

With several heavy stomps, paving stones shattered and flew. A golden fist streaked towards them, its wind pressure making Su Mo’s tied hair sway.

Mo Lian channeled her spiritual energy, and one of her hands began to crackle with lightning.

Then, a black figure violently slammed into the Demonic Buddha, leaving a trail of cracks across the ground.

In the air, a fierce ghost with thick brows, large eyes, and entirely white pupils, wreathed in ghostly aura, bellowed as it threw wild punches:

“Lady Su, I am Fist Ghost. I apologize for my late arrival!”

Su Mo carefully sensed her surroundings. The Soul-Sensing Grass informed her that this was a ghost from the Underworld. Perhaps a Fist Ghost had even been present at the Ghost General’s estate during the banquet.

His strength was truly extraordinary!

“Lady Su, you actually know this… rational Fist Ghost?” Mo Lian asked, utterly astonished.

Creatures of such power usually had their strength devoured by malevolent thoughts, completely succumbing to become puppets of pure power, brutality, and bloodshed, didn’t they?

‘What kind of background did they possess to be so formidable?’

“Ah, perhaps I do?” Su Mo replied, uncertainly. At that time, there had been no fewer than a hundred such ghosts in the Underworld.

There might even have been hidden ones; how could she possibly remember them all?

“Did you hear that? She doesn’t even remember you!” The Demonic Buddha, ever shrewd in reading people, immediately shouted, attempting to incite defection.

“Shut your mouth, old geezer! Come, let’s ‘Ora Ora’!” The Fist Ghost landed two solid punches, burying the Demonic Buddha into the ground.

“Outrageous! Simply outrageous!” The enraged Demonic Buddha, fighting like a madman, exchanged blows with the ghost, demolishing houses and kicking up swirling dust as they went.

With nothing to do, Su Mo nervously wiped a bead of sweat. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she owed this ghost a favor.

‘If she didn’t repay it, would it hang her up and ‘Ora Ora’ her?’

****

Meanwhile, in the high building, a deathly silence enveloped Xiao Yao’s side.

Everyone bowed their heads, wishing they could bury themselves in the earth.

“Are there any more masters?” Xiao Yao gritted his teeth, crushing the armrest of his chair.

The armrest was gone.

“Fellow Daoist Xiao, I believe it would be better if you were to face—”

“Snap!” Xiao Yao delivered a slap through the air, sending the cultivator flying.

He rose, surveying his surroundings, and addressed the crowd, enunciating each word carefully:

“I invited you all, my colleagues, for a mutually beneficial outcome. This current cowardice, does it signify disdain for my intentions?”

He descended from the platform, pacing before the assembled crowd. From his elevated position, he scrutinized each person’s gaze.

He continued:

“Next, whoever I point to shall go and perish. Who agrees? Who objects?”

“I object!” someone retorted defiantly.

“Smack!!” A slap flew through the air, sending the cultivator tumbling from one end of the room to the other, screaming as he plummeted from the high building, ‘freely soaring’ through the air.

In the oppressive silence, Xiao Yao strode before Heavenly Sword and produced two Spirit Gathering Pills.

As Xiao Yao placed them in his hand, Heavenly Sword “bashfully” pushed them back, much like the back-and-forth exchange of New Year’s红包.

“Take them,” Xiao Yao said coldly, pressing them into his hand.

Patting his shoulder, Xiao Yao spoke with gravitas:

“Fellow Daoist Heavenly Sword, I only dare send you because I hold you in high regard, understand?”

Turning back, he gazed at the crowd and declared:

“I am compassionate and merciful; would I truly send you to your deaths?”

With a raised hand, the horde of fierce ghosts roared their “agreement.”

Clutching the sword in his hand, with no other recourse, Heavenly Sword gritted his teeth and stepped onto his flying sword, departing.

In the air, he let out a melancholic laugh, tinged with tragic heroism:

“Heavenly Sword has lived three hundred years, yet speaks of the bright moon with difficulty.”

Patting Skinny Horse, only one thought occupied Su Mo’s mind:

‘Question: What emotion does this convey from the author?’