Chapter 33#

The Peerless Great Demon Ba Snake#

The newcomers were indeed the people of Fan Yin Temple. Atop a massive lotus pedestal dharma tool, there must have been a hundred or so individuals. The one in the lead was draped in a gold-and-crimson kasaya, his face bearing a compassionate expression, his cultivation unfathomably deep. It was none other than Master Yuanzhen, the abbot of Fan Yin Temple—Shikong’s master.

Shikong stepped forward and offered a disciple’s bow. “Greetings, Master.”

Yuanzhen kept his eyes closed in silence, reciting a Buddhist invocation. Behind him, Yuanjie the Chief, a man with a dark complexion and a wide mouth, barked, “Shikong! You collude with demons and slaughter the human race—do you not know your guilt!”

This Chief Yuanjie had always held the attitude toward the demon race that those of a different species must harbor different hearts. Shikong had no desire to argue with him. “Master, please allow this disciple to explain the matter in detail.”

At last, Yuanzhen spoke. “Shikong, the temple has already reached a decision on this matter. Assist your sect in capturing that demon, and the faults you have committed will be forgotten.”

Shikong said nothing. He merely reached out and pulled Lu Heng behind him, making his stance clear.

“Stubborn and defiant.” Yuanjie’s brows knitted and his eyes narrowed as he berated him. “Form the formation! Take down this traitorous disciple along with the other!”

Lu Heng drew his long whip and stepped forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with Shikong. But he hesitated—these were, after all, Shikong’s fellow sect members.

“This is the most powerful Vajra Demon-Subduing Formation in the sect. You need not hold back. Simply protecting yourselves is enough.” As if reading Lu Heng’s thoughts, Shikong transmitted a voice message to him. He then formed a hand seal, and the Buddhist beads wrapped around his wrist faintly began to glow.

From within that enormous lotus pedestal, a full 108 people flew forth. Though they were many, there was not the slightest disorder. In the blink of an eye, the formation was complete.

After crossing into this world, Lu Heng had experienced a few skirmishes with cultivators, but their strength had been nothing noteworthy. Super-sects like Fan Yin Temple deploying their top-tier combat power was something Lu Heng had yet to encounter, and he couldn’t help but feel a measure of unease.

“I don’t know how to deal with this formation,” Lu Heng said candidly to Shikong.

“Don’t be afraid. Just follow my commands.” Shikong gave Lu Heng’s hand a brief squeeze, then quickly released it.

In the span of those two exchanges, an enraged Arhat phantom had already materialized in the sky. The Arhat held a demon-subduing vajra pestle, its eyes like copper bells, its entire body radiating terrifying pressure. At the center of the formation, Yuanjie’s right hand formed a phantom grip as he slammed downward. The Arhat phantom mirrored his motion perfectly, gripping its vajra pestle and crashing straight down toward the heads of Lu Heng and Shikong.

Shikong pinched his fingers together, and eight Buddhist beads flew from his hand. Each expanded to the size of a human head, orbiting around him and Lu Heng. Shikong’s personal dharma tool was named the Eight Sufferings, named after the eight sufferings of human life: birth, aging, sickness, death, the suffering of encountering what is hated, the suffering of separation from what is loved, the suffering of not obtaining what is sought, and the suffering of the five aggregates burning fiercely.

The Birth Suffering Bead, wreathed in green light, drifted outward and transformed into a sky full of vines. It tightly wound around the vajra pestle and crept upward along it, wrapping toward the Arhat’s body.

Seeing the Pancavimsatika Venerable bound, Yuanjie let out an angry shout. On several members within the formation, light flashed once more. Another Arhat phantom appeared in the sky.

Seeing this, Lu Heng leapt forward to meet it with his whip. His long whip had already been restored, and the power of natural law faintly coiled around it.

The two of them cooperated seamlessly, shattering Arhat phantom after Arhat phantom. For a time, the people of Fan Yin Temple were utterly unable to defeat them.

The battle reached a stalemate.

Yuanjie suddenly turned his head. “Senior Brother! Hesitate no longer! Unless their karmic ties are severed, Shikong will be the one who suffers in the end!”

At these words, Yuanzhen finally opened his eyes. He murmured another Buddhist invocation in a low voice, then turned his palm—and the Karmic Causality Disk appeared upon it.

The Karmic Causality Disk, the sect-guarding dharma tool, naturally served purposes far beyond merely calculating one’s karmic connections. Yuanzhen forced out a drop of heartblood, letting it fall into the disk. The moment the essence blood entered the disk, it dissolved into a cloud of blood mist and was absorbed in an instant. Yuanzhen’s complexion also paled for a moment—heartblood was unlike ordinary essence blood; losing even a single drop was a tremendous drain on a cultivator’s vital energy. Had the situation not been critical, Yuanzhen would never have used his heartblood.

In an instant, dozens of light threads in varying colors appeared around Yuanzhen’s body. He selected a single cyan thread and held it in his hand; the rest dissolved into the air. The other end of that cyan thread was connected to none other than Shikong.

Yuanzhen formed a finger seal, and the cyan thread grew in the wind, wrapping tightly around Shikong in the blink of an eye. The power of karmic causality was extraordinary. Though the master-disciple bond between Shikong and Yuanzhen was shallow, merely restraining Shikong was well within its power.

With Shikong restrained, the pressure on Lu Heng’s side spiked. To make matters worse, Yuanzhen forced out another drop of heartblood, and that essence blood fell into the disk. A red thread appeared on Shikong’s restrained body. Unlike the dim cyan thread, the red thread blazed with a vivid, dazzling brilliance, casting a crimson hue across half the sky.

Yuanzhen formed seals once more, and the red thread worked the same way, binding Lu Heng tightly. Seeing both of them trapped, Yuanjie felt a surge of joy. But manipulating the Karmic Causality Disk consumed enormous spiritual energy—even Yuanzhen, as the abbot of Fan Yin Temple, could not sustain it for long.

Seizing the opportunity, Yuanjie sent a thought through his spiritual sense. Across the great formation, golden light rose from every participant. The remaining Arhat phantoms slowly coalesced into one. A colossal Buddha phantom, vast enough to touch the heavens, appeared in the sky. Half-lidded eyes held both compassion and coldness. It raised a palm and pressed it down toward Lu Heng.

That palm struck with overwhelming force, heavy as a mountain. Were it to land solidly, even with the Ba Snake’s formidable body, severe injury would be inevitable.

In this perilous moment, the Buddhist beads orbiting beside Shikong suddenly detonated all at once, severing the cyan threads wrapped around him. At the cost of destroying his personal dharma tool, he had forcibly cut the karmic causality thread. Blood seeped from Shikong’s nose and mouth, but he paid it no mind. He spun around and lunged toward Lu Heng.

Shikong shielded Lu Heng firmly beneath him. Lu Heng was burning with anxiety, but the red threads wound around him far too tightly. He could only watch as the massive palm drew ever closer to Shikong’s back. The more dire the situation, the clearer Lu Heng’s mind became. He suddenly recalled the day he and Bai had faced danger together.

Back then, it had been the mysterious dharma tool on his left ear that saved them. Remembering this, Lu Heng desperately circulated every last ounce of demonic power in his body and channeled it into the tool. His sole thought was how to escape this predicament.

That overwhelming white light appeared once more. This time, Lu Heng did not lose consciousness. He felt himself and Shikong pulled into something like a vortex of violent, raging energy. Shikong was already gravely injured and unconscious. Lu Heng gripped him desperately, struggling against the violent force that threatened to tear them apart. After holding on for a few more moments, with his demonic power exhausted, a crushing wave of mental exhaustion swept over him. He could no longer resist and sank into darkness.

【Little Lu, Little Lu, Number 666, how are you?!】

Lu Heng woke to the Assistant’s calls. It felt as though he hadn’t heard that voice in a very long time. He clutched his throbbing head and forced himself to sit up.

His mind was in chaos. It felt as though he had dreamed a very long dream. Lu Heng ignored the Assistant, merely telling it to be quiet for a moment, then began sorting through the tangled threads of his thoughts.

He had returned to several hundred years ago, lost the memory of entering the Department of the Underworld, then encountered Bai Li’s father—the Protagonist—and incurred a life debt. After that, he had been besieged by Fan Yin Temple, which led to Suixin acting up and sending him back here. These events were all fairly vivid in his memory, but Lu Heng always felt as if a crucial piece of the puzzle was missing.

The missing piece cast a white veil over the entire stretch of memory, robbing it of its sense of reality, making it feel like watching someone else’s story. What exactly was missing? Lu Heng tried to recall, but the pain in his head made it feel as though it would split apart.

【Assistant, during my trip back to several hundred years ago, why did you never appear? Did you record what happened?】

【What?! You traveled back several hundred years?! After that holy artifact emitted a beam of white light, I was locked inside a confined space. I couldn’t see anything. Just now, that space somehow suddenly developed a crack, and I seized the chance to escape.】

The Assistant had no idea what had happened either. But the situation was far too bizarre, so Lu Heng recounted that stretch of memory and the strange gaps he’d noticed to the Assistant.

【My guess is that the holy artifact Suixin possesses not only spatial power but also temporal power. However, using that temporal power likely comes at a cost. That cost might be important memories or something similar.】

【That makes sense. Our system functions are all anchored to your memories of the Department of the Underworld, which is why that entire memory got sealed inside that strange space along with me. If I hadn’t seized the chance to escape, your memories of the Department of the Underworld might have been lost forever.】The Assistant sounded quite pleased with itself.

【Honestly, not recovering them might not be so bad. Living in this world as a magnificent Demon King is pretty comfortable.】Lu Heng teased it with a touch of mischievous cruelty.

【How can you say that?! When the time comes for the Demon King to die—if you don’t go through with it—this plane of existence will fall into disorder and collapse!】

【Speaking of which—my little trip back several hundred years ago won’t cause plane disruption too, will it? Where’s the Demon King Zheng of several hundred years ago? I took his place and incurred Bai’s life debt, then came right back. When the time comes, who’s going to raise this Bai Li?】

【Hold on, hold on—let my database process this.】The Assistant was nearly driven to crash by Lu Heng’s barrage of questions.

While waiting for the Assistant to sift through its database, Lu Heng surveyed his surroundings. He found himself near the sacrificial altar in the Demon Race’s Forbidden Territory. Had Suixin brought him back to the place it considered safest?

For reasons he couldn’t explain, Lu Heng found himself walking toward the left. He had the inexplicable sense that something very important lay that way. At the end of the path was a spring pool. Though he had never been here before, Lu Heng somehow knew that the water was very cold.

Lu Heng crouched down and dipped a hand in to test it. As expected, it was cold to the bone. Why was the water so frigid? Last time he’d soaked in it, it hadn’t felt this cold. Last time? Lu Heng froze. When had he ever come to soak in this cold pool?

A dull ache began throbbing in Lu Heng’s head once more. The missing piece of his memory continued to leave his heart dangling in midair, hollow and unmoored.