Chapter 145: Buddhist Disciple 5

Cao Feng City in the Human Realm had already become a battlefield between the Immortal and Demon realms.

Led by major sects such as Poyue Sword Sect, Silver Moon Sect, and Tianhai Immortal Palace, along with dozens of smaller sects, a defensive line was erected, blocking the Demon Realm’s army outside Cao Feng City.

In just a few days, many corpses had been left behind in the areas of battle. In several direct confrontations, the cultivators of the Immortal Realm had suffered significant losses.

Compared to the overwhelming forces of the Demonic Race, the number of Immortal cultivators was already small, and their encounter was like stacking a dam to block a raging flood.

Additionally, many sects had been slow to arrive, leaving considerable gaps in the front line. The Immortal cultivators found it even harder to resist the Demonic Race’s onslaught.

The Sect Leaders and Elders of various sects gathered in a flying pavilion in Cao Feng City to discuss how to handle the Demon Realm’s army when the hot-tempered Sect Leader of Zixu complained, “Hasn’t Bishui Yuntian Sect arrived yet? That old man Wu Xihong, always quick to take advantage of others, but now that it’s his turn, he’s claiming he’s too old!”

“After so many of our disciples were injured and waiting for their treatment, he’s taking his sweet time! When everyone is dead, let’s see how those medical cultivators stop the Demonic Race!”

Bishui Yuntian Sect’s disciples were mostly skilled in both medical and cultivation arts. In such a great battle, the medical cultivators’ role was especially crucial. After several urgings, they finally received a reply saying they were on their way, but Sect Leader Wu’s health was poor, and he needed a few more days to recover.

Seeing that even distant sects from the north had arrived, the people from Bishui Yuntian Sect had still not shown up.

“Hahaha, Zixu, calm down, old man, didn’t I come here?”

A laugh came from afar, and Zixu immediately recognized it as Wu Xihong’s voice. Infuriated, he was about to curse when he heard Wu Xihong continue, “Look who I’ve brought with me!”

Everyone froze, only to notice a noticeable monk in plain clothes among the group of disciples dressed in green that Wu Xihong had brought.

Upon seeing the monk’s shining bald head, everyone’s hearts lifted.

Zixu, who had been fuming earlier, immediately stood up, his face flushing. “It’s Master Wuxin!”

The Sect Leaders and Elders, who were gathered in the pavilion to discuss matters of great importance, naturally recognized Master Wuxin from Bodhi Mountain in the Spirit Realm. Many of them had even met him before.

Seeing Master Wuxin’s extraordinarily youthful face, no one was surprised, even if they had not seen him before. After all, Buddhist Disciples cultivated reincarnation differently from regular cultivators, and their appearance changed constantly within just a few decades.

Some of the people present had seen his old appearance, others had seen him as a child. In fact, over a hundred years ago, when he killed the Demon Lord Tian Tu, he had appeared as a young boy, his face more delicate than the youngest disciples they had with them.

However, appearance did not reflect Master Wuxin’s cultivation. If one were to count his age, he was likely older than most of those present.

His youthful appearance did not attract attention, but the little girl he was carrying in his arms stood out.

Especially since the little girl had a face very similar to Master Wuxin’s. If this monk were not Master Wuxin, everyone would have suspected this was his biological daughter.

But because this was Master Wuxin, no one entertained that thought. Everyone speculated that the girl was either a lotus spirit from Bodhi Mountain or perhaps a wooden fish spirit that Master Wuxin had enlightened, something along those lines.

“Venerable Master!”

“Master Wuxin!”

“Buddhist Disciple!”

The crowd greeted him, their hearts settling with relief. As long as the Buddhist Disciple had arrived, the situation was already settled.

The tense atmosphere in the flying pavilion shifted, and everyone’s faces brightened with smiles.

Wu Xihong, who had brought Master Wuxin, was extremely pleased with himself, subtly boasting about his own efforts, emphasizing how hard he had worked to convince Master Wuxin to come.

Wu Xihong was known for his vanity and his pursuit of power, and everyone understood this about him by now.

Some people who were displeased with him forced a polite smile and complimented him, only to quickly change the tone of their conversation.

“I’ve heard that Master Wuxin values karma above all else. It’s rare for us to encounter a Buddhist Disciple, and even Sect Leader of Poyue Sword Sect went personally to Spirit Mountain to visit but couldn’t find him. To have Sect Leader Wu manage to bring him here is truly a sign of karma at work.”

Noticing a slight shift in Wu Xihong’s expression, another Sect Leader added, “Perhaps Master Wuxin has come to ensure the safety of Bishui Yuntian Sect’s disciples and Sect Leader Wu. In that case, one wonders what Sect Leader Wu will have to offer to repay the karma in the future?”

Wu Xihong’s expression immediately soured. The one thing he valued most, besides his life, was his treasure, and he had already decided to send a message to his sons left behind in the sect to safeguard his treasures, especially the Lingbao Ten Directions Mountain Scroll.

Pah! Karma? He would never admit to it!

The situation was urgent, so the Sect Leaders and Elders didn’t waste time with pleasantries. For the first time in days, they were ready to take the initiative and engage in battle.

Master Wuxin was surrounded as he stepped forward, leaving the flying pavilion and heading toward the outskirts of Cao Feng City.

Outside the city, the fertile fields had been trampled by the Demon Realm’s army, and even the surrounding forests and distant low mountains were filled with a dense crowd of demons. The land was scorched black, and there was no sign of life to be seen, only the howling of the Demonic Race.

The cultivators’ defensive line was on the brink of collapse, with countless control formations being violently impacted by the Demonic Race’s charges. The cultivators controlling the formations were exhausted and had to rotate frequently.

Demon Lord Tian Zhi Mo and his generals had only recently fought against the Immortal Realm’s Elders and were now resting inside their surrounded golden chariot.

In such a scenario, with so many people present, any one individual seemed insignificant. But as Master Wuxin stepped forward, casually taking a few steps, he immediately became the focus of everyone’s attention.

He took a step forward and tapped his staff lightly on the ground.

From the blood-soaked, muddy earth, golden light erupted, and lotus flowers bloomed, only to quickly wilt and scatter, sending shimmering golden light soaring into the sky, forming an ever-expanding light barrier.

While the young Demonic Race warriors, who still didn’t understand what was happening, continued to howl, some of the Demonic Race had already realized the monk’s identity.

He must be a monk from the Spirit Realm!

The Demon General, who had sensed something was wrong and rushed out to investigate, saw the scene before him and his eyes nearly burst with rage. It felt as though he had been transported back years ago, surrounded by another Demon Lord, forced to retreat and eventually flee back to the Demon Realm by a seemingly ordinary human-like monk.

The entire Demon Realm army, spread across the mountains and plains, began to stir in chaos, starting from the center and the front.

“Is that the legendary Buddhist Disciple Wuxin?” Finally, the Demon Lord Tian Zhi Mo, resting in his golden chariot, appeared.

He held a delicate and beautiful demoness in one arm while drinking from a wine jug, his eyes fixed on the monk stepping forward in the golden light, his face showing a rare expression of caution.

“The legend says that he killed Tian Tu with a single strike of his staff. I want to see if he’s really as powerful as the stories say.” After speaking, Tian Zhi Mo turned to a nearby Demon General, “Go and test him.”

Because her father was the center of attention, Qian was also watched by countless people and Demonic Race beings. However, she was used to it, and in this similar scene, she found a familiar feeling.

In the past, there had been such occasions, where she too had been carried by her father and stood before thousands. But back then, her father had red hair, with the ends slightly curled, and he had held her at the very forefront, facing a horde of strange and monstrous Demonic Race. Now, they were on the opposite side.

Qian didn’t understand the passage of time in this world. To her, Demon Lord was just another name for her father. So as she sat in Master Wuxin’s arms, she gazed toward the red-haired figure in the distance, hoping to see a more familiar face.

When the golden chariot moved through the Demon Realm army and approached the front, slowly revealing the red-haired figure, Qian stared intently, only to realize that it was a stranger’s face.

Although he had red hair and golden eyes, his hair was straight and tipped with gold, which was different.

The people around her called him Demon Lord.

Qian felt a thunderclap in her chest!

Just as the battle was about to break out, with the Demon General poised to carry out the Demon Lord’s orders, a child’s cry suddenly erupted on the battlefield.

Qian cried uncontrollably, pointing frantically at the direction of Demon Lord Tian Zhi Mo, anxiously reporting to her new father, “He’s not Demon Lord! He’s not Demon Lord!”

“He’s not my father, it’s not like this.”

The child’s heart-wrenching sobs were as though she had been suddenly given a fake father.

This sudden outburst left both sides confused.

However, the pause was only momentary. No one paid much attention to the ramblings of a child, and both sides quickly resumed fighting.

With Master Wuxin’s barrier in place, the Demonic Race was suppressed and could no longer advance, trapped in place.

The cultivators controlling the array for Qian were no longer hindered and could focus on dealing with the Demonic Race. The Sect Leaders and Elders, no longer engaged with Tian Zhi Mo and the Demon General on another battlefield, led their disciples, each showing their unique powers, to divide and conquer the Demonic Race.

The center of the battlefield became Master Wuxin.

The monk, still holding the child, was covered in dust and dirt, his robes trailing on the ground as though he had traveled a long way. Unlike the ethereal cultivators around him, he did not exude the same celestial aura.

In his hands, aside from a staff, he had no other weapon. Compared to the large and menacing Demon General opposite him, wielding a giant sword, he seemed almost fragile.

But as the Demon General approached, he felt an overwhelming weight with each step toward the monk, as though a mountain was pressing down on him. When the Demon General got within ten steps of the monk, he could no longer lift his sword. His muscles bulged with effort, but the monk hadn’t even moved—he was still gently calming the child.

Qian cried uncontrollably, her nose running, tears streaming, and even saliva dripping down. Master Wuxin had no choice but to pull out a handkerchief and wipe her tears away.

This was the first time he had seen her cry so badly since bringing her to his side. Ever since he promised to take her to see the Demon Lord, she had been especially happy, swaying her body with excitement, her little braids bouncing, occasionally offering him a sweet smile.

It was as though she had been separated from her parents for a long time, and now they were finally coming to take her back.

Sighing inwardly, Master Wuxin raised his gaze, lifting the child slightly and tapping his staff against the Demon General’s desperate sword strike. The Demon General trembled violently before collapsing, and Master Wuxin passed by him, moving onward.

On the golden chariot, Tian Zhi Mo clenched his wine cup tightly, watching the scene unfold.

What an impressive monk!

Master Wuxin had used his staff to strike many people—awakening his disciples or enlightening ignorant demons. But that was only when his opponents weren’t weighed down by karmic sins or were lost in their own delusions.

When dealing with demons tangled in murderous karma, who refused to repent, the staff became the most terrifying weapon.

Tian Zhi Mo kicked the demoness he was holding aside, drawing his weapon to block the staff.

The sound of a great bell rang out.

Behind him, the golden chariot, resembling a small palace, flipped over and shattered, with several frightened demonesses fleeing from it.

These delicate and beautiful demons were Tian Zhi Mo’s toys. Now, as their master suddenly showed signs of defeat, they scattered in panic.

The scene was chaotic, and no one had time to pay attention to them. One of the demonesses, with long dark red hair and a tassel covering her face, glanced back nervously while clutching her slightly bulging belly. She joined the others in rushing into the disordered demonic crowd.