Chapter 40: Kill Puzhi!

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"Pikachu!" The first words uttered by the Ancient Void Dragon as it emerged from the giant rolling orb.

“Huh? Why did I just say ‘Pikachu’? How odd… never mind, I’ll forget about it,” the little Void Dragon murmured in confusion.

Turning to look at Qianmo, it said, “Master, it’s been so long since you let me out to play. Is there something interesting this time?”

Due to the constraints of the rolling orb, the Ancient Void Dragon now appeared roughly human-sized.

“Enough talking. I need to go in. That old man up ahead—take him as your warm-up,” Qianmo instructed the little dragon.

“Alright, Master,” the little dragon replied obediently.

“A dragon? How could such a thing exist in the Ghost King Sect?” Pu Hong exclaimed, his voice edged with both fury and astonishment.

“Come on, old man, let this old dragon play with you,” the little Void Dragon said with a mischievous grin.

“Hmph! Let this humble monk test your strength,” Pu Hong retorted.

“Heavenly Sound Palm!”

With those words, Pu Hong unleashed a skill, striking toward the little dragon.

“Hmph! What a petty trick. Dragon Palm!”

The little Void Dragon countered with its own Dragon Palm, regarding Pu Hong with utter disdain.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

And so began the clash between man and dragon.

Elsewhere—

“System, lock onto the location of the Wordless Jade Wall,” Qianmo commanded.

“Ding! Lock-on successful!” A screen materialized before Qianmo, a red dot marking the location of the Wordless Jade Wall.

“Nice! Well done, system.”

According to the story, the Wordless Jade Wall of Tianyin Temple should be in the rear mountain, just past here.

Qianmo reached the rear mountain, which was entirely encircled by a barrier—not one set by Qianmo, but by the monks of Tianyin Temple.

He placed his hand upon the barrier, causing gentle ripples to shimmer across its surface.

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“A mere Nascent Soul barrier can’t stop me,” Qianmo remarked, his tone faint and dripping with scorn as he watched the changes.

He pressed his hand further, sending a surge of force into the barrier. Unable to withstand the power, the barrier opened a gap.

Qianmo stepped through. Inside the barrier, nothing seemed different—just grass and trees, save for the invisible wall.

“Traveler, this is not a place for you. Please turn back.” As Qianmo advanced, the aged voice of an elder monk sounded.

From the darkness emerged an old monk.

“Puzhi?” Qianmo narrowed his eyes, recognizing the true culprit behind the massacre at Caomiao Village three years ago—a man who, driven mad by inner demons, had slaughtered the entire village.

At that moment, the keen eye activated:

Puzhi, male, one of the four great monks of Tianyin Temple. Nascent Soul Stage, second level (wounded and unstable due to inner turmoil; formerly seventh level).

“Oh? Young man, you know this humble monk?” Puzhi was surprised to hear his name from this stranger. He had not shown his face to the world in years; for someone so young to know him was no small matter. Furthermore, he sensed a great threat and the gaze of death from this man.

Puzhi’s brow furrowed, his vigilance rising.

“I know a little. After all, you were the one who slaughtered Caomiao Village three years ago,” Qianmo replied with a smile.

“What? He knows I was the one who killed everyone in Caomiao Village… Though I lost control at the time, it was indeed my doing. So many innocent lives gone—I feel such guilt!” Puzhi’s shock quickly gave way to shame.

For the past three years, he had been tormented by remorse, retreating to the rear mountain to meditate and study the Celestial Tome, though he had failed to comprehend a single line. Such obsessions could easily breed inner demons.

“You also gave Zhang Xiaofan the Bloodthirsty Pearl, didn’t you?” Qianmo continued.

“You… You’re from Qingyun Sect? What have you done to that boy? This is my responsibility, not his—please, do not harm him,” Puzhi pleaded. He could not bear to see an innocent suffer for his sins, especially when that person was his own disciple.

“He is unharmed. But you, on the other hand, will not be so fortunate. Though your massacre of Caomiao Village happened in a frenzy, the blood of countless innocents stains your hands. And you, a once-great monk, chose to run away rather than face your sins. I am sorely disappointed in you. Today, I have come to settle the debt for the countless wronged souls of Caomiao Village,” Qianmo said slowly, his tone unhurried as he recalled the carnage of that day. Even though his original goal had been to kill Cangsong, the tragedy was unmistakable.

“You are right, traveler. My hands are soaked in the blood of countless innocents from Caomiao Village. I am deeply ashamed, tormented by guilt. For someone of my stature, to choose escape—yet who among mortals does not fear death?” Puzhi pressed a trembling hand to his chest, shaking his head in self-reproach.

“Enough talk. Today, I will kill you. Xiaofan’s whole family died by your hand. If he ever learns that the man he saved in Caomiao Village was the very butcher who slaughtered it, I wonder what his face would look like,” Qianmo said, spiritual energy already gathering in his palm.

“You are right. I deserve to die. But before I go, I wish to see your strength. To be so fearsome at so young an age—you are truly a prodigy,” Puzhi replied, spiritual energy surging as he lunged at Qianmo.

“Great Dharma Seal!”

He hurled the attack straight at Qianmo.

“A Buddhist technique, tied to samsara? Then I will use the Great Reincarnation Technique.”

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“Great Reincarnation Technique, First Seal: Reincarnation Mark!”

The spiritual energy gathered in Qianmo’s hand quickly divided and, with a flick toward Puzhi, he intoned, “Seal!”

“What kind of spell is this? How could Qingyun Sect possess such a terrifying technique?” Puzhi’s gaze grew even more complex, but resolved himself—if death was inevitable, so be it. He met the attack with his own Great Dharma Seal.

Thunderous roars echoed.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

How could Emperor Yankang’s Great Reincarnation Technique be so easily withstood? Even though Qianmo’s casting was casual, its power was far beyond what a Nascent Soul adept could endure.

Unable to resist, Puzhi was blasted down by the Reincarnation Mark, tumbling across the ground over twenty times before finally skidding to a halt.

Blood spurted from Puzhi’s mouth. His face was pallid, lips tinged with blue, his robes tattered beyond recognition—he was utterly spent, no longer able to fight.

And Qianmo had only used a fraction of the seal’s power, casting it with a mere flick, without any real effort.

“Good heavens, this is absurdly strong! I didn’t even use a tenth of my strength. Is he too weak, or is the technique too powerful?” Qianmo marveled, glancing at his own palm.

He walked over to the prostrate, barely-breathing Puzhi, who croaked, “Who are you?”

“My name is Qianmo.”

And as Qianmo spoke his name, Puzhi, his injuries far too severe, breathed his last. There was a faint smile on his lips, as if to say, I am finally dead—at last, I can offer an apology to the innocent souls of Caomiao Village, even if they do not accept it, I still must try.

“Alas, the world is so tragic,” Qianmo murmured as he gazed at Puzhi’s corpse. This man, at least, had a conscience—Qianmo did not entirely dislike him.

“Phoenix Flame, burn.”

Watching the corpse slowly consumed by Phoenix Flame, Qianmo raised his hand before his eyes and intoned, “Amitabha. Well done, well done.”

“Another good deed done. My heart feels at peace.”

The wind stirred the grass, moonlight blurred and uncertain...

(End of chapter)