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The numbers were overwhelming, impossible to count at a glance, rushing in with clear targets. After identifying their goal, they circled around Misha, reminiscent of the scene on the day of Wulian's Parinirvana.
"You all came?" Misha asked, puzzled yet feeling that it was meant to be. "Are you here to help me? But I no longer need it. Look," Misha seemed to gaze through the Shas at Wulian, a hint of nostalgia in his voice as he pointed at the severely injured Holy Overlord. "We will surely win this battle. I've only used the Buddha Cultivation Method. You should go back after seeing me; guard Puzhao Temple for Master."
Yet, none of them moved away.
In that moment, as Misha was distracted, the Holy Overlord seized the opportunity to counterattack. However, before he could get close, he was burned by the golden light emanating from ninety-nine Shas surrounding him.
At the same time, the subsequent rounds of attacks had already caught up, and everyone coordinated their efforts to ensure that the Holy Overlord had nowhere to hide. He grew increasingly agitated; the Qilin Bloodline he had stored was depleting rapidly, and he didn't know how much longer he could hold on. Thoughts of escape began to creep into his mind.
Beside Misha, the Shas flickered more rapidly, as if urging him on. Following their silent guidance, Misha made minor adjustments to the new Sutra within a limited scope. After chanting it, he felt the speed of separation increasing significantly.
The Holy Overlord, unable to dodge the incoming attacks, screamed in panic and rage, "No! No! You won't take it from me! I must have it! I'd rather destroy it than let you have it!"
With the appearance of the Shas, the Holy Overlord realized his inevitable defeat—losing meant death. After years of effort, he would not let anyone benefit from his downfall. In a fit of hatred, he fixed his gaze on Misha and charged toward death with determination.
It became a race: who would die first—him or Misha's separation? Misha felt that he might be a moment too late; his desire for the divine beast's body was not strong enough for him to care much.
However, the Shas were not willing to let that happen. Their purpose was to assist Misha in becoming a deity. Wulian was merely an ordinary monk with slight talent and a kind heart; he had no chance of obtaining Shas after death.
Misha already possessed considerable Qilin fortune. In gratitude for Wulian raising him, One Hundred and Eight Shas descended—not only to support him but also to leave this divine gift in the mortal realm for Misha's use whenever needed.
Today, sensing the convergence of the entire Qilin Bloodline and responding to Misha's unconscious summons, they hurried over eagerly.
The people from Puzhao Temple wanted to intervene but found themselves powerless to stop it; they could only watch helplessly as the Shas departed. It seemed such a scene would deter some individuals from Puzhao Temple who were already wavering in their Buddha Cultivation beliefs.
The Shas feared that if the Holy Overlord succeeded in self-detonation, they would surround him tightly and repeatedly calm his agitated energy within.
As the saying goes: "One surge leads to strength; two lead to decline; three lead to exhaustion." The several bursts of anger rising within the Holy Overlord were quelled by the Shas until he no longer had the courage for self-detonation.
He thought that since the Shas wanted to protect him, perhaps Misha would heed their wishes and grant him a way out. However, this path would inevitably strip him of his Qilin Bloodline—a path devoid of everything that he desperately wished to avoid.
With the assistance of She, Misha quickly stripped away the Qilin Bloodline, holding it in his hands, a tender orb. She urged him on from the side.
Misha looked at everyone in the Small Tavern; the children were crying, while the adults displayed a complex mix of reluctance, encouragement, and expectation.
Yet Misha's heart was even more complicated. Besides his reluctance, he could not see the path ahead, feeling a sense of helplessness and anger as if fate was guiding him without his consent.
For a moment, he couldn't make up his mind, caught in a stalemate.
The quiet atmosphere was suddenly shattered by a piercing scream.
Ji Rui had woken up at some point, realizing her own limitations. She crouched in a corner, waiting for an opportunity. And now, that opportunity had come.
Once again, she plunged the dagger into the Holy Overlord's chest. Having resigned herself to her fate, and with the Holy Overlord no longer possessing his bloodline, he was like an ordinary person severely injured—he had no desire to fight back and simply could not do so.
"Give me back Bao'er! Give me back Bao'er! Give me back Bao'er!" Ji Rui chanted repeatedly. For every time she uttered those words, the dagger pierced deeper. Before long, the Holy Overlord took his last breath; his chest was punctured beyond recognition. Yet even this could not relieve her heart full of hatred.
Covered in blood, Ji Rui continued to stab at the Holy Overlord's corpse until it turned to mush, finally exhausting herself and stopping her assault.
After halting her actions, she collapsed on the ground and cried uncontrollably. It was unclear how long she needed to vent her emotions before everyone's attention returned to Misha.
During Ji Rui's outburst, Misha had already made up his mind. He would use the Qilin Bloodline he needed and integrate it into his own body using a special technique. At first, it did not go smoothly; there was significant rejection.
As She guided him steadily through the process, things began to change slightly.
Although Misha's speed seemed quick, it would still take several days. Everyone could not just stand by idly; with impending farewells looming over them, the atmosphere grew heavy with sadness. Unanimously, they found tasks to occupy themselves within Ji Mansion to ease their sorrow.
The city had suffered considerable losses due to the great battle; once vibrant Kishu had turned into a city of mourning. Everyone felt uneasy and did their utmost to compensate for what had happened.
Some contributed labor while others provided funds. Old Vine united with the Flower Spirit of the city to let flowers bloom amidst the ruins of Kishu. The people of Kishu relied on flowers for their livelihood; where there were flowers, there was hope. Gradually, the gloom lifted and laughter began to return to the streets.
Meanwhile, outside the dilapidated courtyard where Misha was located, Sang Qingxiao set up a talisman array that others could neither see nor enter, allowing Misha to break through peacefully as he believed he still needed a few more days.
On the morning of the third day, in a haze of sleepiness, Sang Qingxiao received Misha's message.
"You got it?"
Sang Qingxiao sat up in shock while calling for others and hastily throwing on his clothes.
He sighed deeply; this time it seemed like it would end poorly.
Worrying more than ever now, Sang Qingxiao rushed out of the dilapidated courtyard—what had gone wrong?
A piece of the required bloodline was missing.
How could this be? That day, after the Holy Overlord transformed, everything was just as it should be, perfectly intact.
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