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墨書 Inktalez
"Are you an idiot? I told you to leave, and you actually believed me. Are you a child?" the Young Monk mocked Zhao Yang.
Zhao Yang shook his head, looking around before raising his voice, "Just now, this person kept saying that if I handed over the Tricolor Sacred Lotus, he would let me go. Yet now, he hasn't fulfilled his promise. I want to ask, is there still justice in this world? Is there still basic trust between people?"
Zhao Yang's words rang out loudly, but to others, it sounded like a helpless boy questioning the existence of justice in the face of countless thugs.
"I can't believe that among so many people, not one stands up to speak for justice. I also believe that there must be kind-hearted individuals among you. My name is Zhao Yang, a disciple of Xuanfo Temple from the Five Major Sects. Those three are my friends. If just one of you stands up for us today, I can guarantee your safety and will even gift you the Tricolor Sacred Lotus." Zhao Yang's emotions were running high.
However, after he finished speaking, everyone regarded him as a madman.
Perhaps among the thousands of cultivators present, there was someone who loved to document events who would write:
That day, we saw the handsome young man, facing thousands who wanted to seize his Holy Medicine and precious techniques, roaring and shouting in desperation. He questioned whether there was still justice in our world, whether goodness still existed. I wanted to save him, but I couldn't. His promise was no different from that of the boy who had deceived him earlier.
Zhao Yang calmly looked at each person; their gazes varied—only a few showed pity, while more wore malicious smirks.
Zhao Yang also glanced at his brothers: his honest and wild senior brother, the quirky Nangong Wuxin, and the lagging Scholar Xiu.
Song Baliang sighed and said, "Junior Brother, I've told you before that showing them pity will only breed their desire to plunder more. Even Buddha cannot save the world; let alone..."
Song Baliang did not finish his sentence. He knew Zhao Yang had a strong sense of compassion. Perhaps he could kill one or two without hesitation, but when faced with thousands of lives, he couldn't bring himself to do it because each life was precious—each was born of parents' love; no one had the right to take that away.
Some say there's no difference between killing one person and killing millions; however, in Zhao Yang's eyes, there was a significant difference.
To others, Zhao Yang's thoughts were too unique. They saw him as someone who couldn't even protect his own life yet still had the heart to pity others—no different from an idiot.
Pop!
Boom!
No one heard it, but at the moment Zhao Yang spoke those words, a series of breakthrough sounds echoed from within him, marking his advancement in cultivation. A practitioner at the Enlightenment Realm could never be measured by the ordinary standards of progress.
"I never expected there would still be such naive and ignorant people in the Cultivation world. How did his Sect elders teach him?" One practitioner laughed, likening Zhao Yang to a monkey being beaten by a group of bears at a circus.
"There will always be fools in this world. Here we are, thousands of us, being dragged down by one person who asks all sorts of strange questions, truly believing he is something special." Another practitioner, unable to tolerate Zhao Yang's demeanor, scoffed.
"Truly deserving of death," he added, seemingly not satisfied with his previous remark. His voice was loud enough to be heard from miles away, as if he were showcasing his vocal prowess.
The Brutal Man, who had prevented Zhao Yang from leaving, approached him. He looked at Zhao Yang as if observing a fool who had just finished a self-directed play and stood there dazed. With his arms crossed nonchalantly over his chest, he said, "Seeing you are young and foolish, and your mind is not quite right, I will grant you a swift death."
As soon as the Brutal Man finished speaking, his foot suddenly lifted like a red-hot iron, radiating immense heat. He kicked towards Zhao Yang's head. Yet Zhao Yang did not dodge; he simply watched.
Everyone believed this young man would die, his head smashed by the kick.
However, something strange happened. The Brutal Man, lifting his foot, suddenly deflated like a balloon that had been pricked with a needle. His pant legs went limp with a pop as he was violently blasted back three yards. Then his hands, head, and entire body shriveled rapidly like a deflated inflatable doll before crashing to the ground, his remaining expression one of shock and confusion.
With a heavy heart, Zhao Yang closed his eyes and sat cross-legged. The Tricolor Sacred Lotus slowly floated out from the hands of a nearby boy and drifted toward Zhao Yang, resembling a beautiful and serene butterfly.
It landed on him.
Many practitioners witnessed this scene and rushed forward, eager to seize the Tricolor Sacred Lotus. However, their movements suddenly became slow and stiff; everyone felt as if they had plunged into an ice cave.
"What happened to my junior brother?" Song Baliang wondered aloud, feeling perplexed and concerned for Zhao Yang.
"It's Transcendence! Zhao Yang's Primordial Spirit is about to break free! We need to go!" Nangong Wuxin exclaimed. When he first achieved Transcendence, his Primordial Spirit wreaked havoc, nearly killing Scholar Xiu. The first time a cultivator's Primordial Spirit breaks free is the only time it possesses defensive power, making it overwhelmingly powerful and uncontrollable. However, he sensed that Zhao Yang's Primordial Spirit was unusual; he had a strange feeling that if they didn't leave, they might be mistakenly killed.
Moreover, only during the first break of a cultivator's Primordial Spirit does the power reach its peak, as it releases long-held emotions such as hatred, evil, and resentment—emotions capable of causing immense destruction.
At that moment, Zhao Yang was in deep meditation for Transcendence, and his subconscious did not impose any restraints on the three of them. Nangong Wuxin and the others hurriedly retreated, flying away into the distance. Scholar Xiu remarked, "When you achieved Transcendence, you didn't have this feeling. What kind of Primordial Spirit is this from Zhao Yang!"
Zhao Yang sat on the ground like a True Buddha. Behind him, divine images emerged, and he radiated a strong white light that illuminated the area around him like the purest jade. An elder from the Divine Transformation Stage shouted loudly for his disciples to flee, but he was horrified to find that even he couldn't move.
It felt as if his feet were nailed to the ground; even the flow of blood within his veins slowed down dramatically, like a stream about to freeze over, on the verge of becoming stagnant water.
"Quickly kill that young man! He is possessed by evil spirits, summoning great demons!" a terrified cultivator shouted, urging everyone to join forces to eliminate Zhao Yang.
Yet Zhao Yang remained like a tranquil Buddha, his expression serene as countless rays of light shot into the void, reaching for the heavens.
A massive Phantom, as large as Kunlun, slowly rose from somewhere in Heavenly Mechanism Mountain. It towered over everything; to it, Heavenly Mechanism Mountain appeared as a mere mound of earth. In its hand was a hammer, and behind it floated a giant cauldron. Within its body was a faintly visible enormous blue elixir, and its eyes radiated light that pierced through the cosmos from the center of the Five Elements Continent.
Endless hurricanes swept through, causing yellow sand to swirl around Heavenly Mechanism Mountain, with unpredictable winds and clouds.
Several White-Haired Elders, who had been sleeping in their hidden realms for an unknown time, suddenly opened their dust-covered eyes and gazed toward the direction of Heavenly Mechanism Mountain. They remained silent, but their hearts were in turmoil.
The high-ranking members of the Five Major Sects also looked up through the formations surrounding Heavenly Mechanism Mountain, staring at that towering Phantom. They recognized this young man; he was the one who had caused great embarrassment for the Azure Cloud Palace during the incident in the Haotian Secret Realm. Later, he entered the Xuanfo Temple, where he was replaced in many matters by a disciple named Song Baliang. The legendary Haotian Pill likely came from him!
"That's the disciple from Xuanfo Temple. Even if the head of Xuanfo Temple intervenes now, he won't be able to protect him. Now that his true form of the Primordial Spirit is revealed, not only us from the Five Great Sects, but even the Central Sovereign won't allow him to live," declared Elder Sidu Yuanzheng from the Azure Cloud Palace fiercely.
The Yin Yang Wanderer stared into space for a long time without speaking. An elder beside him transmitted sound: "Sect Master, this child's Primordial Spirit has surpassed our understanding. It is said that his thoughts are extreme; with all restraints lifted, if he grows stronger in the future, it could lead to widespread devastation. I have already investigated—he was originally an unremarkable disciple from a small sect called Myriad Spirit Sect in the southern region of Zhongzhou. Rumor has it that his Spiritual Root is a rare type known as the Chaotic Root, containing at least ten different attributes. Yet there are no signs of stagnation in his cultivation; in fact, he progresses faster than many talented individuals. Some have even claimed he possesses a legendary item known as a Spirit Pearl!”
Yin Yang Wanderer rarely showed interest, asking, "Is it true that the so-called number one treasure, the Spirit Pearl, can seek anything?"
Meanwhile, in the direction of the Overlord Sect, the Overlord Saint listened as an elder reported on the news of the young man known as the Transcendent Spirit of Heaven, deep in thought.
In Falling Flower Valley, Miao Yujie’s expression fluctuated between light and dark as she softly said, "This matter must be decided by the Valley Master."
As for Xuanfo Temple, all Four Great Monks were shocked. They were all intelligent individuals; Datong did not claim to have taken on a good disciple, and the other three Divine Monks did not praise him for having a good disciple either. The abbot withdrew his gaze and chanted a Buddhist mantra, "Amitabha, great calamity is approaching Xuanfo Temple."
In the past, the abbot had never spoken such words because the Four Great Monks were present; each of their Combat Powers was comparable to that of a sect leader or elder. However, this time was different; it seemed everyone would be targeted.
There has been a saying passed down through generations: "The Transcendent Spirit of Heaven does not belong to the mortal realm."
Many believed this to be a prophecy that one day a Primordial Spirit of immense proportions would emerge in the cultivation world, and his appearance would render the mortal realm obsolete.
However, the abbot of Xuanfo Temple and the Four Great Monks had spent days and nights conversing with Zhao Yang. They had known each other for nearly a year and understood one another well. They knew that Zhao Yang was even kinder than Song Baliang; sometimes he simply did not want to witness slaughter. He had his own thoughts that others deemed too grand because they were not matters he should contemplate. Yet they knew he possessed that qualification.
On the royal throne, Central Sovereign also witnessed this scene. Before him knelt many serious-faced cultivators, awaiting orders from the middle-aged man seated on the throne.
In a distant mountainous region, within a vast courtyard, Dragon Gate High Priest's eyes reflected the sun and moon as he gazed into the distance. He turned to the sect leader Shi Qiankun and said, "Celestial can now make his debut; Central Continent Chaos is beginning, and Dragon Seeking Gate will reappear in this world."
Meanwhile, in the Extreme Cold Icefield of the Northern Region of the Five Elements Continent, a woman in black watched Yu Qingsnow depart and softly murmured, "Go find him; do not be like me, left only waiting."
After speaking, she returned to her frozen abode, staring blankly at the portrait of a man on the icy wall.
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