Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils: The Successor of Bodhidharma

Page 43

Jin Tai looked up at the empty wine pot that she had placed back on the table, and couldn't help but shake his head with a smile. His tone carried a hint of helplessness and doting from an elder to a younger person: "At your age, you still don't know any manners."

Shura put down the wine jug, snorted, and his voice sounded somewhat muffled through the mask, yet carried a hint of barely perceptible arrogance: "In my eyes, you're always sixteen!"

Jin Tai smiled, his gaze sweeping over her, a teasing tone tinged with concern: "Are you injured?"

Shura didn't answer, but instead ordered a guard in tight-fitting clothes standing outside the pavilion, "Go and fetch the jar of 'Autumn Dew White' that your Master Jin hid in the secret compartment of the carriage!" Her tone was matter-of-fact, as if the wine was hers.

The guards dared not delay and immediately bowed and obeyed the order before leaving.

Shura then turned to Jintai, who had a look of bewilderment, and said irritably, "You've found me a good job! As far as I can tell, no one in the pavilion can subdue that old monk except you. I'm afraid... even you might not be able to guarantee a victory, right?"

Upon hearing this, Jin Tai's playful expression faded, replaced by genuine surprise: "Really? He has reached such a level?"

Shura waved his hand, his tone carrying a hint of solemnity and uncertainty: "I don't know. It's just a feeling. If he were to risk injury, he should be confident that he could keep me on that mountain path forever. He didn't make a move in the end, perhaps because he was wary of our Dragon Guard Pavilion, or perhaps... as he said, it was his Buddhist nature that made him unwilling to make a rash move. In short, I can't see through this monk."

Jin Tai stood up with his hands behind his back, walked to the pavilion, looked in the direction of Shaoshi Mountain, pondered for a moment, and slowly said, "Very well. Let's just consider it giving Lingguan some face. With him in charge, Shaolin closing its mountain is a good result for both the court and the martial arts world."

He suddenly turned around, his gaze becoming extremely solemn, and looked at Shura: "Shura, you are the youngest Grandmaster in my Dragon Guard Pavilion, and also the person I have chosen to inherit my mantle. Although you also come from the martial world, I trust you!"

His voice was deep and powerful, carrying the weight of entrusting the empire to someone: "You must remember, as long as we are here, this world will remain untouched and under control. But if one day we old folks are gone... you must remember the founding emperor's dying words—"

"Slay all the Grandmasters! Until no Innate Realm expert emerges in the martial world!"

"Only in this way, by severing their elite lineage and weakening their military conflicts, can our Great Song Dynasty, with its vast territory and hundreds of millions of people, enjoy lasting peace and tranquility!"

Hearing these incredibly heavy words, Shura seemed to furrow her brows beneath her mask. She waved her hand impatiently, "I know, I know, you keep nagging me, aren't you tired of it?"

She stood up, took the perfectly sealed jar of "Autumn Dew White" wine that the guard had just brought, broke the seal, and a refreshing aroma of wine immediately filled the air.

"I've had nothing to do these days, so I'm too lazy to go back to that stifling imperial city. I'll just wander around the martial world and clear my head," she said casually, holding a wine jar.

Looking at her like this, Jin Tai's face once again showed that doting smile, and he teased, "Could it be that you're thinking of finding a suitable husband?"

"Pah!" Shura spat, picked up the wine jar, turned and left, his red robes drawing a dashing arc in the autumn wind. Only one sentence drifted back on the wind:

"You disrespectful old man!"

"I'm leaving!"

Before the sound faded, the person had already disappeared outside the pavilion, as if transformed into a wisp of red autumn wind, vanishing without a trace.

Jin Tai looked at the empty pavilion entrance, shook his head and chuckled, but deep in that smile lay a trace of worry about the future.

Shaoshishan Square.

Master Xuannan's furious roar still echoed in the air: "Qiao Tian! You...you Wudang are outrageous! How dare you commit such a brutal massacre in the sacred Buddhist land! You...you have no regard for the law! You have no regard for Shaolin!"

Qiao Tian slowly turned around. He didn't even bother with Xuan Nan first. Instead, he carried Murong Bo's head, which was still starving, as well as the heavy Imperial Seal and Xianbei clan genealogy that he had taken from the unconscious Murong Fu. He walked step by step to Abbot Xuan Ci, whose face was pale and whose body was trembling slightly.

Murong Bo's head was carelessly tossed at Xuan Ci's feet.

The imperial seal and the family genealogy fell onto the bluestone slab with a dull thud. These physical evidences, representing the Murong clan's ambition, now seemed so glaring and ridiculous.

Qiao Tian's gaze was as cold as ice, staring directly into Xuan Ci's eyes, which were filled with pain, struggle, and a trace of fear. His voice was not loud, but it carried an undeniable power, clearly reaching the ears of Xuan Ci and all the Shaolin monks around him:

"Abbot Xuanci".

"Today I killed Murong Bo, captured Murong Fu, and exposed his conspiracy. Can you understand my intentions towards Shaolin?"

Qiao Tian's voice suddenly turned cold, carrying a final warning:

"I hope you won't let my 'painstaking efforts' be thwarted by your ignorant and boastful disciples in Shaolin, leaving me with no face to save!"

Xuan Ci's body trembled violently, and all color drained from his face. He stared intently at the severed head and the two objects at his feet, then at Qiao Tian's unfathomable, all-knowing eyes. He knew Qiao Tian was telling the truth. The other party had already given him and Shaolin immense face and a way out. If he continued to be disrespectful, if Shaolin insisted on intervening, what awaited Shaolin was utter disgrace, even… annihilation!

The immense pressure and inner torment made the Shaolin abbot seem to age ten years in an instant. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, all that remained in his eyes was endless exhaustion and resignation.

He raised his hand to stop Xuan Nan from saying anything more, and with all his might, his hoarse but clear voice carried throughout the room:

"Shaolin disciples... heed my command!"

"Back off!"

Xuan Nan, Xuan Ji, and the others were shocked and speechless, staring at Xuan Ci in disbelief.

Xuanci roared again, "Shaolin disciples... heed my decree! Retreat!"

Although the Shaolin monks were unwilling and had doubts, under the strict orders of the abbot and the head monk, they began to slowly retreat, making way for a large space.

The assembled heroes were utterly shocked!

"Shaolin...Shaolin is abandoning them?!"

"This...this Wudang is so powerful? Even Shaolin has to give way?!"

"Look, Wudang!"

Qiao Tian faced the square, his voice booming like thunder:

"Wudang disciples, heed my command!"

"Set up the True Martial Grand Formation!"

This formation is a grand formation jointly developed by Wu Yazi and Huang Shang after they combined the essence of the Xiaoyao Sect's formations and studied the *Wanshou Daozang*. It is a powerful formation for Wudang! Although it is relatively new and not as perfect as the Shaolin 108 Vajra Subduing Demons Formation, which has been refined over a thousand years, its core essence lies in "interception" and "transformation"—using the opponent's force against them, cutting off their momentum, and adapting to changing circumstances. Even more remarkable is that the more people in this formation, the stronger the integrated offensive and defensive force becomes, provided they coordinate perfectly. Its potential is limitless, and given time, it will certainly rival the ancient Shaolin formations!

Five hundred and eight Wudang inner disciples moved at the command, their figures intertwined, their steps mysterious, and with Qiao Tian at the core, they quickly formed seven interconnected and harmonious formations! Sword light flashed, Daoist robes fluttered, and a majestic aura, chilling and murderous yet containing the ultimate truths of heaven and earth, soared into the sky, instantly enveloping the entire square and making it difficult for the remaining thousands of heroes to breathe!

Qiao Tian stood with his hands behind his back at the front of the formation, his gaze as cold as lightning, sweeping over the fearful, weapon-wielding, yet hesitant, martial arts heroes. He issued his final ultimatum, his voice as icy as ten thousand years of ice, containing overwhelming killing intent:

"you--"

"Are you determined to fight Wudang to the death?"

"Are you sure you want to go to the underworld with these few wicked scoundrels whose crimes are beyond redemption?!"

As he spoke, he suddenly raised his right hand, as if to swing it!

That movement was like the command of death!

Someone shouted first, and the already terrified heroes could no longer withstand the immense psychological pressure and the terrifying power of the Wudang formation. They rushed to the side like a flood bursting its banks, tumbling and crawling, wishing they had two more legs!

In just a short while, the square, which was once packed with people, became deserted.

All that remained were Quan Guanqing and Kang Min, who lay limp on the ground with their legs broken and faces ashen, and Elder Xu, Zhiguang, Zhao Qiansun, Shan Zheng, Tan Gong, Tan Po, and others, who were pale and looked like lambs to the slaughter. Surrounded by the Wudang Zhenwu Seven-Section Formation, they trembled like fallen leaves in the autumn wind.

Qiao Tian's icy gaze, as if looking at a group of livestock waiting to be slaughtered, slowly fell upon them.

Chapter 129 Xiao Yuanshan

Abbot Xuanci gazed at his old friends, slumped on the ground, their faces ashen, surrounded by the Wudang Grand Formation. His heart felt as if it were being boiled in oil. He clenched his fists tightly within his wide monk's sleeves, his nails digging deep into his palms until they bled.

If Qiao Tian used his position as the "ringleader" to coerce him, he might grit his teeth and endure it, even at the cost of his own life. But... Ye Erniang! The woman he owed a lifetime to, who had committed an even greater mistake, and the child he had never fulfilled his responsibilities as a father to... If this matter were made public, he would be utterly disgraced, and it would tarnish Shaolin's centuries-old reputation, making him a sinner for all time in Buddhism!

Personal life and death are trivial matters; the reputation of the sect is paramount! This heavy shackle made him tremble all over. In the end, he could only painfully close his eyes, swallowing back the almost-uttered protest. He couldn't! He dared not! For the sake of Shaolin, he could only watch helplessly…

The scene was deathly silent.

Zhao Qiansun suddenly stopped his nervous trembling. He looked at Master Zhiguang, who was also pale-faced beside him, then at Tan Gong and Tan Po, who were supporting each other, and finally his gaze fell on his old friend Xuanci, who was standing on the high platform with his eyes closed and his body trembling slightly.

A strange smile, both tragic and somewhat relieved, appeared on his face. His hoarse voice broke the silence:

"Hehe...haha...old buddy...in the end, you're the one who's had it the hardest..."

He then looked at Qiao Tian, ​​then at the imposing Wudang sword formation, his madness returning:

"Wudang! What a show of power! Why did you need to lift a finger?!"

Before he finished speaking, he suddenly raised his palm, gathered his remaining internal energy, and slammed it hard onto the top of his head!

With a muffled thud, Zhao Qiansun, bleeding from all seven orifices, with that eerie smile on his face, fell backward and died!

"Brother Zhao!" Master Zhiguang cried out in anguish. His face was devoid of its usual compassion, replaced only by endless regret and exhaustion. He clasped his hands together, looked westward, and whispered, "Amitabha... My sins, my sins... Thirty years have passed, it's time to repay them..."

After saying this, he sat down cross-legged, clasped his hands together, a trickle of black blood spilled from the corner of his mouth, and his head slowly drooped down; he had already breathed his last.

Mr. Tan and Mrs. Tan exchanged a glance, their eyes surprisingly calm.

Granny Tan said softly, "Old man, what happened back then... there's no escaping the cause and effect."

Tan Gong held her hand tightly and nodded: "Let's walk together, the journey won't be lonely."

The two exchanged a smile, then simultaneously channeled their inner energy, severing their heart meridians. They collapsed to the ground in each other's arms, lifeless.

Bai Shijing looked at the people who had committed suicide one after another, and a very complex smile appeared on his face, a mixture of regret, pain and a hint of ferocity.

“Brother Ma…brother…I’m so sorry! Kang Min…you poisonous woman! Haha…hahaha…”

He suddenly drew the short knife from his waist—the knife he used as an elder to enforce the gang rules—and with a backhand slash, precisely stabbed it into his own heart!

He stared wide-eyed at the gray sky.

In the blink of an eye, those who knew about and participated in the Yanmen Pass massacre back then, whether to preserve their reputation, out of remorse, or out of fear of torture, all chose to end their own lives!

In the arena, only Quan Guanqing and Kang Min, whose legs were shattered and who lay on the ground like mud, groaning in pain and fear, remained, along with Elder Xu Chongxiao, whose face was ashen and who was trembling like a leaf.

Jinzha had long been impatient, and now that he saw that most of those who deserved to die were dead, a cold glint flashed in his eyes!

"Chuck! Chuck! Chuck!"

Three incredibly sharp sword energies pierced through the air!

Quan Guanqing, Kang Min, and Xu Chongxiao all had a bloody hole appear between their eyebrows at the same time, and they died without even uttering a sound!

Jinzha sheathed his sword and pouted, "You're so dawdling, it's getting on my nerves."

The assembled heroes watched from afar as the suicides and massacres unfolded, as once-renowned figures fell like mere weeds. A chill ran down their spines, and cold sweat beaded on their brows. Today, Shaoshi Mountain had truly become a battlefield of carnage!

The Shaolin monks all bowed their heads, chanting Buddhist mantras: "Amitabha...forgive us, forgive us..." Their voices were filled with helplessness and sorrow.

Just as the stench of blood filled the air and the atmosphere reached its most oppressive point—

"Hahaha! Hahahaha—!"

A loud laugh, seemingly manic yet filled with unbridled joy and sorrow, like the cry of an owl, suddenly rang out from the edge of the square!

Everyone looked on in horror, only to see a figure in black robes sweep into the arena like a ghost!

His laughter was deafening, filled with the exhilarating satisfaction of finally getting revenge:

"Good riddance! Good riddance!!"

"I've been longing for your fate day and night! But I never imagined it would be so satisfying! So exhilarating! Hahahaha!"

He abruptly stopped laughing, his gaze sharp as lightning, instantly locking onto the imposing figure in the arena, covered in blood yet still standing tall and strong.

He walked step by step toward Qiao Feng, his voice filled with an indescribable excitement and trembling:

"Feng'er... my child!"

Under the gaze of countless shocked eyes, he slowly raised his hand and removed the black veil covering his face.

He revealed a face that bore a five or six-point resemblance to Qiao Feng, but was much older, with sharp features, and full of fierceness and vicissitudes!

Chapter 130 Xiao Yuanshan, who do you think you are?

The stench of blood lingered in Shaoshishan Square, and the lingering fear of the retreating heroes remained.

Qiao Feng stared blankly at the black-robed figure approaching him step by step. The man removed his mask, revealing a face strikingly similar to Qiao Feng's, yet weathered and worn. A surge of emotion, originating from the depths of his blood, erupted like a dormant volcano!

His eyes widened, staring intently at that face, as if trying to etch this sudden sight into his soul. His mind went blank.

"You...you..." Qiao Feng's voice was dry and hoarse, trembling with disbelief.

Xiao Yuanshan stopped in front of Qiao Feng. He was slightly shorter than Qiao Feng, but his domineering and heroic spirit was in no way inferior. He looked at his son, who was tall and handsome and whose spirit was no less than his own back then, and his eyes shone with an incomparably bright light—a light mixed with pride, ecstasy and thirty years of sorrow.

"My child! My child!!" Xiao Yuanshan's voice boomed, filled with the excitement and sobs he had suppressed for thirty years. He reached out his calloused hands, wanting to stroke Qiao Feng's cheek, but they trembled slightly from the overwhelming emotions. "Heaven has eyes! It has allowed me, Xiao Yuanshan, to see my son again in my lifetime! To see my son grow up to be such a hero! Hahahaha!"

He suddenly threw his head back and laughed wildly, his laughter shaking the heavens, filled with the exhilaration of revenge and the ecstasy of reuniting with his family. As he laughed, two streams of tears rolled down his tiger-like eyes.

"Feng'er!" He slammed his palm heavily on Qiao Feng's solid, iron-like shoulder, the force so great that Qiao Feng swayed slightly. "Look carefully! I, Xiao Yuanshan, am your biological father! The blood flowing in your veins is the noblest blood of the Khitan Xiao clan! You are not just Qiao Feng! Your surname is Xiao! You are a son of our Khitan! You are an eagle of the grasslands!"

Xiao Yuanshan's gaze suddenly softened, filled with reminiscence and profound pain, and his voice lowered:

"Your mother...she was the most beautiful and kindest woman in our Khitan tribe...her smile was brighter than the warmest sunshine on the grassland, and her singing could tame even the most turbulent horse...She came from a noble family, yet she was without arrogance, deeply understanding of righteousness, and exceptionally intelligent...Back then, I was trusted by the Emperor of Liao and served as the chief instructor of the Shushan Army. I was ordered to go to Bianjing in the Song Dynasty, where I met your mother outside Yanmen Pass...She disregarded the objections of her tribe and insisted on marrying me..."

His voice began to tremble, filled with boundless hatred and sorrow:

"That year, I took your mother home to visit her family. We passed through Yanmen Pass... Holding you, still an infant, our hearts were filled with hope for the future... Who would have thought! Who would have thought that those self-proclaimed chivalrous martial artists from the Central Plains would ambush us!"

Xiao Yuanshan's eyes instantly turned bloodshot, as if dripping with blood, and he pointed sharply in the direction of Shaolin Temple, his voice like that of a wounded wild beast:

"It was them! Those bastards who are already dead! They attacked without any regard for right or wrong! Your mother... your mother didn't know martial arts! She was only trying to protect you in her arms... she was hacked to death by their swords... right in front of me! She died on that rocky beach outside Yanmen Pass! Her blood... stained the stones red... before she died, she held you tightly, using her body to shield you from the fatal blow!!"

"Ah—!!!" Upon hearing this, Qiao Feng felt as if his heart was being torn apart, and a heart-wrenching pain suddenly gripped his heart! He seemed to see the horrific scene from thirty years ago, and his mother's gentle face shattered amidst the flashing swords! He let out a long, shrill howl, and the violent aura around him surged uncontrollably, causing the bluestone slabs beneath his feet to crack inch by inch!