Nightfall

Immediately upon receiving the order from Buddhism, the Right Royal Court sent out their reinforcements. It was a great honor and opportunity for the pious Buddhists from the grassland to be able to visit the legendary Buddha land. The snowstorm and long journey could never intimidate them. They regarded it as the Buddha’s test.

Yet the leading monk soldiers seemed to be pretty worried. Different from the cheerful and excited nobles from the Royal Court, they understood the situation much better. The Xuankong Temple had always been superior. But this time they even went so far as to seek help from the secular world. It could only mean that the Buddha land was undergoing great hardships and extreme dangers.

Down at the bottom of the Giant Sinkhole in the Wilderness, it was still dark and gloomy as it had been throughout countless years. But nowadays there were many campfires on the fields spreading warm yellow light to the nether world. They provided a direction for the miserable and gathered more and more companions.

Jun Mo stood by a meadow far from the campfires. He stared at the sky-reaching peak hundreds of miles away emotionlessly. He seemed much slimmer than he was years ago, and his handsome face got darker. The empty sleeve was swaying in the wind, and his newly grown hair seemed stubby.

He had lived and fought here for six years. He would probably fight until his last moment. But no one had any idea how exhausted he was because he never showed any trace of exhaustion or frustration on his calm face.

The Prajna Peak was still imposing and steep as it always was. The yellow temples scattered in the lush forest were no less awe-inspiring. The chimes at dawn and dusk were still mystical and distant. The Xuankong Temple stayed superior as if nothing had changed.

Rage had inflamed the fields down in the Giant Sinkhole and spread to the foot of the peak. The outrageous uprising had made its way here but were defeated many times. It seemed as if they could never succeed but actually the situation was changing. And the Buddha land was no longer in its full glory. The Main Hall was never restored ever since it destroyed by Sangsang. The Buddha’s chessboard was thrown into the underground magma and could never be brought to light again.

Many had died and many were dying. They were people from the eminent monks in Xuankong Temple, the nobles in the tribes and their loyal warriors, as well as the outrageous uprising slaves. The chimes were knells. How could they be mystical and distant?

Jun Mo stared silently at the Prajna Peak, the steep cliffs and the Buddha’s relics. He seemed resolute although he had no idea when he could lead the people to the Prajna Peak and burn down the yellow temples. But he would continue fighting until he made it.

The empty sleeve swayed in the wind and occasionally got twisted. Jun Mo was trying to untwist it while an arrow was shot at him. He got it off with his iron sword and frowned slightly. A former female slave came to him and helped untwisted the sleeve.

The uprising had lasted for many years. The wild fire had spread across the fields. Jun Mo knew that the Xuankong Temple and the Buddha land would eventually lay down their mystical superiority and belief, and seek for help from the secular world, at least from the Yuelun Kingdom or the Right Royal Court.

He would be confronted with more difficulties and might never be able to lead the slaves out of the underground world to a real home. But so what? He tried, and was still trying. A man might lose a battle, but he must be resolute and broad-minded. He felt exhausted and lowered his head so that people around him would not see.

He was the Second Brother of the Academy. Throughout the years he had stayed away from the Central Plains and fought in the underground world in obscurity, and was almost forgotten by the outside world. He used to be the most courteous and dignified person. But now he was dressed in worn-out monk robe and boots. His previous glory was nowhere to be found.

Yet whoever knew what he had been doing could not disregard him the slightest. Even though he lost an arm to Liu Bai and could never break through the Five States, and even though he stayed away from the Central Plains, he could still shake the entire human world in a single strike, and spread it to every corner on the continent.

The Xuankong Temple was dragged by the inflamed rage of the uprising army. How could they spare any attention to join the war in the human world? How could the Yuelun Kingdom and the Right Royal Court be of any threat to Tang? Taoism and Buddhism could never collaborate against the Academy again like the did years ago. The situation in the human world had changed a lot silently. And the person who made it was just Jun Mo.

He only had one arm and one iron sword. Yet he had stopped one third of the Tang’s enemies. In that sense what he did was indeed extraordinary, both for the underground people who had been enslaved by Buddhism for years as well as for the Tang Empire.

It was impossible to find a word to describe what Jun Mo had achieved these years. If one had to choose a word, it must be magnificent.

Jun Mo was not a pleasant person. He had always been quiet and solemn, and was used to disciplining the disciples of the Academy with violence. He could not even convey his affection properly. Therefore he was never respected as the Eldest Brother, or as loved as Chen Pipi.

Jun Mo liked to reason with his enemies but his reasoning did not make any sense in most cases. Therefore whenever his enemies recalled him, they could only get headaches.

But Jun Mo was still magnificent.

Jun Mo could always see the vast ocean and the blue sky, and embrace a magnificent mind. He knew no limitation to his abilities, therefore every step he took was unrestrained. Because of his magnificence, he did not think that he was fighting alone. That was probably why others like Long Qing could never surpass him.

He had subordinates and followers. At the beginning there were only a dozen of them, whereas now there were hundreds and thousands. His followers were all over the fields. He always regarded them as his companions and fellow travelers.

The thousands of soldiers stationed behind Jun Mo were his earliest followers and now the core of the uprising army. Throughout the battles these years, the former slaves who used to know only how to grow barley and herd sheep were becoming more and more powerful. They were only familiar with farm tools in the past. But now they were skillful at using weapons.

They had very strong willpower and remained calm in the battlefields no matter what happened. They would never give up or surrender after a single failure.

They were all like Jun Mo and shared similar spirit and character. They all had magnificent minds and noble sentiments.

…

…

In the winter battle, Jun Mo and the tens of thousands of uprising soldiers successfully broke through the defense line of the noble army. They came to the foot of Prajna Peak as they did several times throughout the years. No one from the uprising army was cheerful and excited because history had proved that they could not stay here for long. It was very close to the thousands of temples in the Prajna Peak. Therefore the monks would receive reinforcements in no time. When confronted by the powerful figures from Buddhism, they could never win with only one Jun Mo.

But they had no fear for self-sacrifice. They had fought aggressively to come all the way here despite that they might have to retreat on the following day because that was Jun Mo’s order. Was he trying to prove to the Xuankong Temple again and again that the uprising army was unyielding? Or did he just want to revive the sinking morale via the victories?

Only Jun Mo himself knew the answer. Or even he himself could not be sure whether he was right or whether the person could echo from thousands of miles away.

Down at the foot of the Prajna Peak, tens of thousands of fully armed noble warriors stood side by side with thousands of monk soldiers in kasayas from the Xuankong Temple. Among the crowd there were the powerful arhats from the Commandment Hall. And on top of the trails there stood the ultimate powerful figure: the resolute Qi Nian, World Wayfarer of Buddhism.

“You will never get to the peak. What’s the point of making more and more sacrifices? The Buddha is compassionate and cares for the welfare of all living beings, so back-off.” Qi Nian’s voice was like the chimes that resounded across the gloomy underground world. The tens of thousands of uprising slaves heard his words and reacted differently.

Jun Mo replied emotionlessly, “I’ve been there.” He held the tilt of the iron sword in his left hand and gazed at the scar on Qi Nian’s face. It was humiliating for him.

When Sangsang and Ning Que were trapped in the Buddha’s chessboard, he had to make his way up to the peak by himself. He broke through their defense lines, eventually came to the cliffs and met the Chief Monk of Scripture. That was how he opened the Buddha’s chessboard.

During that process, he confronted Qi Nian once. Of course he won and Qi Nian lost several teeth and was severely wounded.

“Even if you could get up there, so what?” Qi Nian said calmly without any sense of being humiliated, “Our master sits right there among the cliffs. What else can you do?”

Indeed, even if he could break into Prajna Peak, what else could he do? Jun Mo had been there once but could not win. It was meaningless.

“I can do nothing. But I just hate to hear you bald donkeys talk about the Buddha being compassionate and caring about all the living beings. It is disgusting and outrageous.” Jun Mo continued, “When I get here, I will spit on your master’s face and see how he would react. Will he let it dry in the wind or take his cane to fight me? But the thing is he walks too slowly to catch and kill me. So you will have to wait to see what will happen there.”

“In order to show off your prestige, you have already sacrificed so many people. I don’t think that’s in accordance with the Academy’s philosophy or the Headmaster’s teaching.” Qi Nian looked around the uprising slaves dressed in worn-out furs and clothes and said with sympathy, “Why don’t we make peace?”

If Ning Que were present, he would definitely mock and give his middle-finger. But Jun Mo neither mocked nor put up the finger. He was a courteous man who had no idea what the middle-finger meant. He just stared at Qi Nian calmly as if he was looking at an idiot.

Qi Nian frowned slightly and asked, “What do you want?”

Jun Mo did not tell but sat down on the chilling meadow. He took out some gravel and threw them out.

The gravel rolled on for a while and stopped.

People wondered if he was doing divination. Could those gravel work as turtle shells or cow bones? What was the prophecy? But Jun Mo was not divine.

His hair turned grey within a few days ever since he lost the arm. Then he shaved his head and started reading Buddhist scriptures. He broke through levels of cultivation and was respected as a master throughout the fields. But he was not converting to Buddhism or becoming a monk. He clung to the teaching of the Academy and refused to talk about the ridiculous, the deity, the world beyond life and death, or the fortune told by the Eight Trigrams.

He was calculating. His calculation was based on the fragmented information he received and evolved constantly. It was a very complicated process and required great arithmetic abilities. But as they all knew, he was outstanding in this.

The gravel scattered among the dry wild grass. Jun Mo stared at the grass and gravel silently while he pondered. Ye Su was dead, which meant that the Abbey Dean did not care about the future of Taoism or his belief in Haotian. It also proved that he did not care about Haotian’s being weakened. But why?

He turned away from the grass and gravel and looked into the grey sky. Then he came across another possibility. There was a her in the Heaven. And there was another her here in the human world. If the belief was weakening, she would definitely be weakening. But before making any hypothesis they had to prove that there were two Haotian.

Jun Mo could not prove it. He could only make his guess according to the Abbey Dean’s actions because that was the best explanation to what he had been doing so far.

So did Sangsang not return to the Divine Kingdom? Was she still here in the human world?

Jun Mo frowned. No matter if it was the Abbey Dean’s own wish or he was carrying out the order from the Heaven, he would never let them kill Sangsang. Or perhaps it was because he could never let his enemy achieve whatever they wanted. But more likely it was simply because the Haotian in the human world was Sangsang. Jun Mo believed that Ning Que should have also sensed this and he would definitely leave Chang’an to look for her. He had no doubt about that as he knew Ning Que and Sangsang the best. He knew that nothing meant more to Ning Que than Sangsang, not even the entire human world.

But what would Ning Que do before he left Chang’an? Once the Thirteen Primordial Arrows were taken out of Chang’an they would lose its killing power. He would definitely make some shots before he took off. Where would he target at? It could not be the Divine Halls of West-Hill which were protected by the Array of Clear Light. Even the Eldest Brother could not break through, not to mention his iron arrows. It could be neither the Golden Tribe Royal Court nor the Yan or the East Wilderness. It must be here.

Indeed, Ning Que must be pointing at the Xuankong Temple at the moment.

Jun Mo was certain. Once Ning Que left Chang’an, he would need him back as soon as possible. He was not narcissistic, but he was clearly aware of his abilities. In other words, it was their best choice. Ning Que was very particular about gain and loss. If he was going to make one or even a few shots, he would have to maximize the result.

Upon thinking of that, Jun Mo looked above to a plateau high up among the cliffs. It was where the Chief Monk of Scripture was. Many years ago the Chief Monk of Scripture was wounded by the Eldest Brother and Jun Mo for several rounds and followed by Sangsang. Therefore he had been dedicating in practicing.

But as long as he was sitting by the cliffs, the Prajna Peak would never collapse, or would the monks in the yellow temples and the noble warriors of the tribes ever lose their confidence.

Jun Mo knew what he had to do. He had kept quiet for a long while after throwing the gravel into the grass. His enemies as well as followers were all wondering.

Jun Mo pulled out of his sword, or rather, raised his sword to the gloomy sky. It was an upright and straight iron sword, and he held it up as if it were a torch.

Behind him, the most loyal and courageous thousands of former slaves went into an uproar because it was not a signal of attacking, which made them confused and anxious. But no matter how confused or anxious they were, they would never disobey his order. The uprising army retreated from the fields like a falling tide.

Thousands of former slaves covered the retreat while they stared at Jun Mo who still stood by the meadow. They were confused but not worried.

Jun Mo never claimed to be a liberator, a leader, a merciful god or a living Buddha. But he was no less compassionate and merciful than a savior for the former slaves. He was the true Buddha who would escort them to the ultimate happiness. As a Buddha, he would definitely be fine.

Qi Nian placed his palm in front of his chest while the rosary swung in the breeze. An awe-inspiring and powerful Dharmakaya could be seen indistinctly.

“What do you want?” He stared at Jun Mo and felt somewhat worried.

Tens of thousands of former slaves were retreating like falling tide. The dark mass of people swept through the fields, mountains, rivers and whatever in their way. It was massive.

Jun Mo said nothing but proceeded ahead with the iron sword in his hand. He walked toward tens of thousands of enemies by himself, and seemed even more magnificent. The iron sword pierced through the chilling wind and almost took people’s breaths. Jun Mo was going to fight his way up to the peak, again.

When he held his iron sword in front of the Verdant Canyon years ago, tens of thousands of elite cavalrymen were not able to move a single step forward. Today he was going to fight his way up to the peak. Would these tens of thousands of soldiers be able to stop him?

Qi Nian plus all the powerful figures from the Commandment Hall of Buddhism might be able to defeat him as a team. But the Prajna Peak was a huge hill. How could they guard it?

As long as he was determined, he would definitely break into the peak, no matter the cost. But what Qi Nian could not understand was why. Why would Jun Mo do this?

He broke through to the peak last time to save his Youngest Brother. This time it was also for his Youngest Brother. He wanted him to feel relieved when he left Chang’an for his important business. He had his reason and justification. Therefore he would and had to do it.

In the gloomy world, the iron sword pierced through the air and deafening clashes of killing weapons were heard. Broken limbs were scattered and blood splashed.

Buddhist chanting continued and the chimes resounded. The morale of Buddhism was elevated. Countless powerful figures poured onto Jun Mo but failed to stop the iron sword.

Jun Mo started fighting his way up. It took him three days and three nights. In the midnight after three days and three nights, Jun Mo finally came to the highest plateau on top of the Prajna Peak. It was dawn again, and he finally came to where the pear tree used to be.

On the other side of the vines on the mountain trail, dead monks’ bodies were all over and blood flooded like brooks. He was also soaked in blood.

There was no pear tree now and only lots of vines. Only the ruins of the destroyed temple could be seen as well as a dust stained white stupa. There was no one else in front of the white stupa except for an ordinary looking senior monk. He was the living buddha in the human world.

Jun Mo came to the senior monk. Qi Nian was forced to jump into the brook previously by his iron sword and could not come instantly. Therefore no one could ever stop him now.

The monks from the Xuankong Temple were actually not very serious about stopping him because even if he could get up to the plateau, what could he do?

He was indeed the great Second Brother of the Academy. But the Chief Monk of Scripture had obtained the unbreakable vajra body, the highest level of Buddhism. Who could ever defeat the living buddha?

The Chief Monk of Scripture opened his eyes and greeted him, “It has been a few years. Mr. Second looked travel-stained as you were back then, but a bit more withered.” The Chief Monk of Scripture smiled warmly and seemed calm.

Jun Mo stared at the gap by the plateau and answered after a while, “I would never have peace as long as I do not burn down the evil Buddha land. How could I not be dusty and withered?”

In the gap, there used to be a pear tree. He was the one who chopped the cliff with his iron sword and took that pear tree to thousands of miles away. It should be planted at the back hill of the Academy now.

It must have grown into a huge tree. Jun Mo felt some yearning all of a sudden. He had to finish this quickly.

The Chief Monk of Scripture looked at him and said calmly, “The arrow cannot kill me.”

The most powerful and effective killing weapon of the Academy was no longer a secret to the top cultivators around the world now.

Many years ago in the White Tower Temple in Yuelun Kingdom the Chief Monk of Scripture had taken Ning Que’s iron arrow. More precisely, he did not take it because he did not even dodge.

Nowadays with the entire Chang’an city as the power supply, the iron arrows were much more powerful than they used to be. But the Chief Monk of Scripture could not be intimidated, as he had the unbreakable vajra body.

When facing the same sets of the Thirteen Primordial Arrows, the Chief Monk looked much calmer than the Butcher. It was because they had different perceptions of death and that he had confronted it previously.

Staring at the blood stained and pale Jun Mo, the Chief Monk raised his eyebrows in the wind. He was indifferent rather than arrogant because he was peerless in this world.

“There is never an all-mighty weapon in the world, not even the Buddha’s chessboard, or the bell. How could the iron arrows made by some ordinary people in the Academy stand out?” the Chief Monk smiled and asked. “I do not understand why you choose to shoot me when you have a greater chance to kill many others with those iron arrows.”

“For you, the Abbey Dean, the Drunkard and the Butcher, the iron arrows are not fatal. As for others, even if they could be killed by the iron arrows, why should we waste it on them?” Jun Mo was telling the truth. It sounded helpless but actually conveyed his absolute faith and confidence in himself and the Academy.

“But you still cannot kill me with the arrows,” the Chief Monk repeated. “You’ve paid great prices to come up to the peak only to stab me with your iron sword so that Ning Que could make the shot. Now that you know it can never kill me, don’t you think you were wasting your time fighting constantly for three days and nights? Moreover, isn’t it meaningless that you’ve been fighting for years non-stop to get here?” The Chief Monk stared at him with sympathy.

Jun Mo held his iron sword tighter.

The roaring flames throughout the underground world and the Buddha land seemed overwhelming and might eventually burn down the entire Xuankong Temple. But he was the only one who knew that if they could not take down this senior monk there would never be an end to the war.

It was probably indeed meaningless. But it did have some significance.

“You asked why we wanted to shoot you. The reason is very simple. It is because you are slow. You’ve been sitting here on the plateau forever. It would be a pity if we do not try targeting at you.” Jun Mo took one step forward to the white stupa. Rain water from last night dripped and flowed by his feet through the cracks on the plateau.

Blood was dripping from his body. It fell into the puddle and splashed some water drops. With the dim light coming from outside the Giant Sinkhole, it could be seen clearly that some lines of blood were swirling in the water drops and tangled the lights into various forms.

All of a sudden, the lights reflected in the water drops were dispelled. No matter refracted or softened, they were crushed into sprinkles and brightened up the puddle. The reason was that the iron sword had smashed everything on the plateau together with the puddle and the water drops, so was the lights.

Upon a piercing sound the iron sword was raised and broke through the air. It came instantly onto the Chief Monk of Scripture barely in a blink.

The iron sword stabbed on the chest of the Chief Monk. A low bang was heard as if some heavy object had hit on a rock drum. Or a stone hit on a bronze bell, creating some resounding chime.

Anyway, it could not be the sound of an iron weapon hitting on a human body because the Chief Monk of Scripture had obtained the unbreakable vajra body long ago. The living Buddha’s body was nothing worldly!

Jun Mo’s iron sword used to break many cliffs, storms and even the Great River in the south. But it could not be pushed into the Chief Monk’s body for even one inch.

Looking at the awe-inspiring and calm Chief Monk of Scripture, Jun Mo seemed indifferent. He was not shocked but his sword-like eyebrows were dashing.

A clear whistle was heard in the center of the plateau and spread around. It frightened the birds in the woods, splashed the waterfall and swirled the falling leaves.

Jun Mo whistled while he charged all his energy into the iron sword… and lifted it up!

He raised his eyebrows and as well as the sword! The iron sword bended slightly on the Chief Monk’s chest and was lifted up!

For decades the iron sword shared Jun Mo’s character that it would rather break than bend. But right now it was slightly bent because of the huge weight it carried.

Jun Mo was trying to lift the Chief Monk with the iron sword. More precisely, he wanted to break the Chief Monk’s bond with the Earth, where all his power came from.

To be enduring and unmovable like the earth, it was the horrifying state of the Chief Monk of Scripture from the Xuankong Temple. It also told the source of his power.

What Jun Mo wanted was to separate him from the Earth. Even if he could not break his vajra body, he could at least minimize his divine dharma skills.

The Chief Monk of Scripture was the most powerful in Buddhism as a living Buddha. His profound level was unimaginable. Therefore he would never let anyone break his bond to the earth and cut off his power supply.

The connection between an object and the Earth was gravitation, and namely the weight. The heavier the object was, the tighter the connection should be. Therefore the mightier the gravitation would be.

The connection between the Chief Monk of Scripture and the earth was peerless. Therefore he should be the heaviest person in the world.

The Eldest Brother used to say that the Chief Monk of Scripture and the Butcher walked slowest in the world. One of the reasons was that they were both very heavy. To cut his bond with the earth, one had to carry the weight as heavy as the earth itself. Who could ever succeed?

The iron sword created sounds that put one’s teeth on edge. The slightly bent sword was shivering as if it would break in the next moment.

Jun Mo was no less indifferent. His eyes below the dashing eyebrows seemed like chilling stars. There was no sentiment but only resoluteness and perseverance.

The clear whistle was heard again on the plateau and resounded among the cliffs. The monks of Xuankong Temple were shocked and scared on their way up.

With the clear whistle, Jun Mo took another step forward. His iron sword was pressed against the Chief Monk’s chest and pushed him one meter backwards! But the Chief Monk was still sitting on the ground. The bond was not cut off. Yet he had moved. It was at least proof!

Indeed, the Chief Monk’s body was almost rooted in the earth and seemed unmovable. But actually he had been forced to leave the ground a few years ago. At that time the Chief Monk was placing his palm on the Buddha’s chessboard. It was Jun Mo who lifted the chessboard with his iron sword. The moment the chessboard left the ground, the body of the Chief Monk was lifted from the plateau as well.

Right then, Li Manman came and took the Chief Monk away from the plateau for a tour around the Heaven and Earth, and crushed him. Today Li Manman was not here, but the iron sword was present.

Along with some rustling, the skinny body of the Chief Monk of Scripture was pushed onto the broken white stupa and an outline of a human figure was created.

Another clear whistle was heard, for the third time. There should be no more than three times.

Jun Mo’s iron sword straightened up suddenly like the Monkey King who eventually broke out of the boulders after tens of thousands of years.

The iron sword was freed. From bent to straight, the iron sword had released all the tension onto the Chief Monk of Scripture. And the skinny figure was finally raised from the ground! Ever since then, the Chief Monk could no longer be unmovable like the Earth. He still had the unbreakable vajra body and was steady as a mountain. But how could a single mountain be compared with the earth? And did Jun Mo’s iron sword ever surrender to a mountain?

The iron sword was further lifted up. The Chief Monk was now a meter above the ground.

The surface of the white stupa continued to crack and debris were scattered. His two grey eyebrows swung in the wind and smashed the leaves that fell onto them.

He stared at Jun Mo silently, suddenly closed his eyes and started chanting. He finally sensed the danger because of the iron sword in his chest as well as the iron arrows from far away.

In the sky above the Prajna Peak, a shrill whistle was heard. It was much louder than Jun Mo’s clear whistle previously and much more horrifying. It was emotionless and ruthless probably because the object that created the whistle was simply steel. It carried no human emotions and was created only for killing.

The pear tree from the plateau was replanted in the Academy. But there were still many vines and Bodhi trees by the cliff. Upon that shrill whistle, the thin and broad leaves started falling on to the ground. Countless leaves rustled chillingly.

It was winter time. The chillness did not come from some autumn wind, but rather from the arrow intent.

The half ruined temple at the rear of the plateau further collapsed. It turned into scattering rocks and randomly piled beams, and unveiled a cave on the cliff behind.

An iron arrow appeared on the left chest of the Chief Monk of Scripture. The iron arrow was jet black. It was perfectly straight and flawless. No one knew what it was made of but it seemed devouring. The complicated talismans all over the shaft enhanced it horrifying character.

The iron arrow showed up unreasonably and unpredictably. No one could tell why or how. One second ago it was still thousands of miles away. In the next it appeared in the Prajna Peak, as if it had nothing to do with the shrill whistle.

It seemed like the iron arrow had never traveled thousands of miles through mountains and rivers. It was not like Distanceless that could pass through the interlining in the Qi of Heaven and Earth. It looked like it had been on the left chest of the Chief Monk of Scripture for years and was only revealed because someone thought about it just now.

The Chief Monk lowered his head and looked at the iron arrow on his chest. It did not pierce through his skin and flesh, and seemed to have stopped. But he knew that it would be launched the next moment. Then the iron arrow started to press forward ruthlessly.

It shivered for tens of thousands of times in a blink. The sharp tip kept pressing into the skinny body of the Chief Monk of Scripture. If someone could take a closer look, he would see the bits of iron falling down from the tip of the arrow!

The Chief Monk’s unbreakable vajra body was indeed unimaginably firm. Even the Thirteen Primordial Arrows that were made of secret alloys was worn out like this!

Right then the shrill whistle was heard again! A second iron arrow appear out of nowhere on the right chest of the Chief Monk of Scripture! It carried the massive power from thousands of miles away and bombarded here!

One iron arrow stood for an entire City of Chang’an. Two iron arrows stood for twice the power!

The bond between the Chief Monk of Scripture and the earth was finally cut off. No matter how unbreakable you are, how could you withstand my shots with twice the power of the entire City of Chang’an!

His face turned extremely pale while his body trembled in the air while being lifted by Jun Mo’s iron sword. His skinny fingers were pressing together like picking up a flower in the wind.

The wind on the plateau was chilling. There was also the wind brought by the arrows from Chang’an. The fingers of the Chief Monk were about to be pressed together, but pushed aside by the wind on the arrow. The intent of picking up a flower was gone.

Then he was about to start chanting again. But with the wind on the arrow poured into his mouth, he was immediately silenced. Even if he could recite some verses, how could those scattered words mean anything?

Twice the power of the City of Chang’an was charged on the two iron arrows. The crushing power fell right onto the skinny body of the Chief Monk. With a bang, the Chief Monk’s body was embedded into the white stupa. And the falling stupa collapsed instantly, breaking into two pieces!

Under the massive power of the iron arrows, the Chief Monk’s body darted backward. It flew over the ruined temple and entered right into the cave. Jun Mo’s iron sword kept him lifted and pushed forward together.

Dust was blowing like thunder. And the cave started quaking. After a long while the thunders and quaking gradually came to an end.

No one knew where the Chief Monk was taken by the two iron arrows. Around the Prajna Peak dust prevailed and the cliffs kept quaking as if they were about to collapse.

Many monks from the Xuankong Temple came up the Prajna Peak toward the plateau. They heard the shrill whistle and saw the dust blowing on the plateau. Although they had no idea what was happening up there, they could not help but feel restless and worried. On top of that, they heard the second whistle but still did not realize it was the iron arrow coming from Chang’an thousands of miles away because they could not see the arrow. The monks could only vaguely see an indistinct tunnel appeared amongst the dust.

The Prajna Peak was a huge hill that grew out of the Buddha’s relics after his nirvana. The plateau where the Chief Monk of Scripture sat was the Buddha’s left hand. Throughout the years, the Buddha’s palm kept open, with two fingers pressed together as if they were picking up a flower, which used to be the pear tree. Many years ago, the pear tree was removed by the Academy hence there was no flower in the Buddha’s hand ever since. The intent of picking up a flower was gone. Only the open palm stayed against the chest where it was covered by vines and Bodhi Trees on the cliff.

When the monks finally got to the plateau, they could only see the horrible ruins. The former lush vines were chopped and scattered like dead snakes among the ruins of the white stupa and the ancient temple. And the Bodhi trees were all gone, probably crushed and buried under the rocks.

There was a deep crack on the plateau as if it went down through the mountain to the brooks. And a deep cave on the cliff was emitting some profound horror. No one knew how deep that cave was, and whether it went directly to or thrust through the Buddah’s heart. Was the Chief Monk in there?

Deep inside the Prajna Peak, about a dozen miles away from the entrance, there were still thunder and flying stones. They hit onto the walls and created low bangs.

The stones hit on the walls and created low bangs because it was a newly formed tunnel when the Chief Monk’s body was pushed into the cliff. The surface of the wall was heated to red, almost melted and turned into magma by the friction.

Deep down the cave, there was no light except for the dim redness on the walls. But the two people inside were no ordinary human beings hence they could see clearly.

The dust was settled and the thunders ceased.

Jun Mo’s hand was trembling while holding the iron sword. Blood gushed from his wounds and fell onto the heated ground sizzling.

The Chief Monk was still lifted in the air by the iron sword. His kasaya was torn and his cane was gone. The skinny old monk was stained with dust and looked miserable.

The two iron arrows thrust through the chest of the Chief Monk. The sharp arrowheads must have nailed into the cliff behind the Chief Monk. Only half of the shafts could be seen slightly swaying.

Ever since he had obtained the unbreakable vajra body, it was probably for the first time that he was wounded by human weapons. The monks from the Xuankong Temple would definitely be stupefied if they could see this. But the Chief Monk was not bleeding. Although he was thrust by Ning Que’s two iron arrows, he was not bleeding at all. Nor did his pale face flush, or did any blood gush out of his chest.

The wounds on the body pierced by the iron arrows were distinctive. But there was no blood, flesh or even bones inside. The body seemed to be made of gold or jade, rather than human flesh.

The Chief Monk of Scripture stared at Jun Mo and said with difficulty, “I’ve told you. You cannot kill me with the arrows.”

Jun Mo said nothing further. He charged every bit of his cultivation into the iron sword, and pounded it onto the two iron arrows emotionlessly.

Pounding bangs were constantly heard from deep down the cave. After a long while, the pounding eventually stopped. Jun Mo supported his exhausted body with the iron sword and rested for a while. Then he stood straight again, looked above toward the cliff and nodded with satisfaction.

He had virtually bent the two solid iron arrows with his iron sword, and turned them into shackles. They were thrust through the body of the Chief Monk and made it impossible for him to escape.

The Chief Monk of Scripture could never step onto the ground. Nor could his back reach the cliff. The only connection between him and the outside world were the two bended iron arrows now.

His bond with the earth was completely cut off.

Jun Mo was of course very satisfied. Then he recalled what the Chief Monk of Scripture said previously: “We could not kill you with the arrows. But we can nail you until your death.” While saying so, he looked very calm yet bursting with pride. He defeated the living Buddha together with his Youngest Brother, and imprisoned him in the cave. How could this not be magnificent?

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