Chapter 243 Ding! You have unlocked Ying Wujiu's life!
Yuedeng had already lost, Jin Wumo had already been defeated, which more or less shocked the audience. Liu Baixuan of Feixing Sect had no choice but to stand up and prepare for the battle. Seeing this, Liu Lianqing secretly grabbed his sleeve, his expression unable to hide his anxiety, and said in a low voice: "Father, Tanyue is not worthy of following. Why should we wade into this mess?"
Liu Baixuan exhaled slowly, patted his shoulder, and hid his helplessness: "Silly boy, someone has to go. This is fate, and no one can escape it. Protect your junior brothers and sisters, and don't let them run away."
He walked onto the martial arts stage and bowed to the leader, saying, "I am Liu Baixuan from the Feixing Sect. Please teach me!"
The reason why Liu Baixuan could firmly occupy the position of one of the top three sects was not only because of his mysterious and unpredictable Flying Star Sword Technique, but also because of his high moral character and prestige. Over the years, he would help those in need and speak up for justice when he saw injustice. He never competed for fame or gain, and was more respected than the donors who were known as gentlemen.
Ying Wujiu didn't know what he was thinking of. He rubbed his temples with his fingertips and said with his eyes closed: "Corpse Puppet, you go."
Upon hearing this, the corpse puppet flipped his wrist and instantly transformed into a cold golden spear. He was wearing armor and looked like a majestic and victorious general. He flew in front of Liu Baixuan. The mask on his face showed no emotion. He only said three words:
"Please teach me!"
The war is about to break out!
The Feixing Sect's swordsmanship was famous for its speed, and Liu Baixuan had reached perfection in it, so fast that people couldn't even see his afterimage. The corpse puppet's golden spear was a military technique of large-scale opening and closing, with a natural sense of dominance, and the clanging sounds of swords and spears clashing were endless.
Lu Yan could see clearly from the audience that Liu Baixuan's moves were neither hasty nor impatient, and he clearly still had some strength left, but for some reason he was losing more and more as the fight went on, and in the end he lost to the corpse puppet by half a move, with his clothes on the shoulder pierced by the opponent's golden spear.
“Sizzle!”
Liu Baixuan quickly took three steps back, then looked down at the damage on his body and admitted defeat calmly: "I am not as skilled as you, so I admit defeat."
Jin Wumo had just fainted from anger, and now he slowly woke up. He thought that the Immortal Sect could turn the tables, but he didn't expect Liu Baixuan to admit defeat so easily. His voice was hoarse, unable to hide his anger: "Liu Baixuan, you are also a well-known person in the cultivation world, how could you lose to a brat?! Did you collude with the Demon Realm to show mercy on purpose?!"
Liu Lianqing was a man of high arrogance who feared nothing. He could not tolerate his father being humiliated. He glared at Jin Wumo and scolded him mercilessly: "You old fool! Do you have the guts to say that again?! My father has been famous for a long time, so what? Did you live a few years less than him? And you still lost to a cute girl!"
These words hit Jin Wu Mo right in the heart, and he almost fainted from anger again.
Liu Baixuan stepped down from the martial arts stage and rebuked in a deep voice, "Lianqing, don't be rude!"
Liu Lianqing was obviously not convinced. In the end, Junior Sister Henhong stood up and helped Liu Baixuan to his seat, and gently persuaded him, "Master, Senior Brother didn't mean it. Please calm down."
The corpse puppet was indifferent. He didn't care whether Liu Baixuan really lost or pretended to lose. He pointed the golden spear in his hand at the fortune-telling charlatans in the Shenji Palace, and asked in a deep voice with murderous aura, word by word:
"Who's next?"
The people of Shen Ji Palace were all shocked when they heard this. Their sect was not known for its military strength, but for its ability to calculate the secrets of the heavens and gossips. To put it bluntly, they were just a group of fortune tellers. How could they go on stage to fight? Moreover, they had even defeated Liu Baixuan of Feixing Sect. What else could they compare with?
The current Palace Master of Shenji Palace, Hu Badao, calculated secretly and finally found that today was a very bad omen. He was frightened and broke into a cold sweat. He forced a smile and said reluctantly: "We are not good at fighting, so please... please choose another opponent."
The corpse puppet didn't move, and the pair of red eyes behind the mask were dim, not like those of a living person. The meaning was very clear: they had to go up today, whether they wanted to or not.
Those casual cultivators were excited about the excitement and shouted loudly:
"Since you have come to the Sword-Asking Contest, you must abide by the rules, otherwise we will not obey!"
"That's right! I won't!"
"Palace Master Hu, if you don't go up today, you will just have to admit in front of all the nobles that the people in your Shen Ji Palace are a bunch of greedy, cowardly losers!"
For the first time in his life, Hu Badao understood what it meant to be rushed. He made a difficult decision between his life and his reputation, and finally he had no choice but to grit his teeth and step onto the arena, still holding a glimmer of hope in his heart.
Liu Baixuan lost only because the corner of his clothes was pierced. He thought that the man in black with the golden spear should not be as vicious as the girl in blue. He just admitted defeat when he could not resist any more. Could the opponent still kill him?
Hu Badao had a great idea. He held the Bagua Plate in his hand and made a move against the corpse puppet, shouting, "Boy! Come on!"
Everyone thought it would be another uneventful fight. After all, they all knew Hu Badao's strength and estimated that he would be knocked off the stage in less than twenty moves. However, what they didn't expect was that the corpse puppet's golden spear swept and stabbed Hu Badao horizontally, scattering into a plum blossom shape, stabbing his body with bloody holes. The last move, wrapped in a powerful wind, stabbed into his throat, and forcibly messed up the tongue that liked to talk nonsense.
"call out--"
A bloody mass of meat flew out in full view of everyone and landed right in front of the Shenji Palace, scaring the group of fortune tellers who made a living by using their tongues. They turned pale in the face, covered their mouths in fear, and looked constipated as if they had swallowed a razor blade.
The corpse puppet raised his foot and kicked the half-dead Hu Badao off the stage, then turned back to Ying Wujiu's seat. The golden spear in his hand was still dripping with blood and stained with a strong smell of blood. His voice was low and respectful:
"My Lord, I will give you the order!"
Now even the fools realized that the water spirit and the corpse puppets were acting on Ying Wujiu's orders, and they were all furious. Suddenly, a voice of "Amitabha" was heard from the audience, and an old man in a monk's robe stood up slowly. He walked onto the martial arts stage step by step, holding the Buddhist beads in his hand, and looked at Ying Wujiu with his old eyes, as if he could see through people's hearts:
"Donor, the sea of hatred is boundless, why bother sinking into it?"
"Degradation?"
Ying Wujiu looked as if he had heard a joke. He raised his head coldly, his lips curved with sarcasm and cruelty: "Old man, I have already destroyed Jin Wumo's hands and Hu Badao's tongue. Next I will pluck a head from your Buddhist sect. Who of you dares to come forward?!"
Master Jiunan sat cross-legged on the martial arts stage, with his eyes closed and the wrinkles on his face full of compassion: "If the donor can let go of hatred, my head is worth nothing. It is right here now. Feel free to take it. I will not complain at all."
Everyone else was sighing over the heroic act of a high monk cutting off his own flesh to feed an eagle, but little did they know that Ying Wujiu hated these people's false pretenses of mercy. With a sinister look in his eyes, he slowly walked down the steps with a bone sword in his hand, and said in a deep voice, word by word:
"Good! Master Jiunan is indeed the pillar of Buddhism. He has been saving sentient beings all his life. Let's see if you can dispel the hatred in my heart today. If you really have that ability, why would it hurt for me to be saved by you?!"
The sword energy around him was sharp and hot, unlike the usual frosty feeling. A beam of red light shot up into the sky, wrapped around the white bone sword and stabbed fiercely at Master Jiunan's head. At this moment, a golden light suddenly appeared behind Master Jiunan, and a golden Buddha statue several feet tall appeared, blocking the tip of the white bone sword.
Someone exclaimed:
“It is the Dharma image of merit!”
"Master Jiunan has actually achieved the Dharma form of merit!"
Jiunan closed his eyes, folded his Buddhist beads, and sighed:
"Fate plays tricks on people. Those who want to die cannot die, and those who want to live die. What's the point of living?"
He flicked his finger and the Dharma image disappeared immediately, allowing the sword to break through the barrier and attack his throat. Seeing this, the donors below the stage finally couldn't sit still anymore, and they formed a sword technique and flew onto the stage to block it. He was dressed in a white hunter's robe, standing on the stage with a gentle expression, but he always said words that could kill people:
"Junior brother, Master Jiunan is a great monk of the time. He has nothing to do with our hatred. Why do you have to take his life?"
As soon as he said "Junior Brother", the audience immediately exploded. The younger generation was fine, but the older generation who knew the past could not sit still, especially Yuedeng, who stood up and asked in disbelief:
"Master Tan, what did you call him? Junior Brother?!"
Tan Yue smiled slightly: "If he had not left the sect, he might have been the sixth elder of the Wuwang Sect now... No, maybe he would even be the Sect Master."
Buzz——!
Yue Deng felt her mind spinning as if she had been hit hard by an invisible heavy hammer. She looked at the man in red with a glass mask with a pale face, pointed at him and asked in a lost voice: "You are Fu Guang?! You are Fu Guang?! You are not dead yet?!"
Ying Wujiu looked at the moonlight, slowly raised his hand and took off the mask on his face, leaving the crisscrossing wounds exposed to the air. He had long since changed beyond all recognition, except for his pair of unruly and dark eyes, which were the same as they were back then, tempered by the karmic fire in the bone sword furnace, and were sharp and cold:
"I have indeed died, but when I think of you old friends still living happily in the world, how can I be willing to accept it?!"
Every word he said was filled with hatred:
"Hell is still empty, so what if I drag thousands of people to be buried with me?!!"
As soon as Ying Wujiu finished speaking, the formation of the martial arts arena suddenly changed. The spiritual light around it gradually turned red, and flames rose up into the sky, pulling all the people from the hundreds of immortal families into the Red Lotus Illusion. The ground under their feet was all black scorched earth, and there was a blazing red flame in the sky. Magma was flowing between the cracks, and the temperature was so hot that it made people wish they were dying.
Ying Wujiu listened to the screams coming from all around him, his eyes cold and indifferent. He raised his sword and pointed it at the donor in front of him. His laughter was low and vague, and his sleeves moved without wind:
"Donyue, I have allowed you to live for another seven hundred years. Today is the time to collect the debt!!"
Tan Yue's face was ugly, and a huge wave of emotions was stirred in his heart. He had long guessed that Ying Wujiu would not die so easily, but he did not expect that the other party actually cultivated the Red Lotus Illusion. With a flip of his wrist, he finally summoned his natal sword and said in a deep voice: "I was able to suppress you once with the hundreds of immortal sects in the past, and today I can naturally suppress you a second time! No, there will be no second time, today I will make you turn into ashes!!"
Tan Yue was known as the best swordsman of his time, and Ying Wujiu was even more gifted than him in the past. These two rare geniuses came together to compete in swordsmanship, killing each other so fiercely that the sky was dark and the sun and moon lost their rays. Perhaps only those who have been in the situation know how terrifying it is.
The sword's path is like snow, lonely for ten thousand years, but the bone sword in Ying Wujiu's hand carries the determination to burn everything in the world. One sword splits the sky, and one sword cuts the magma. The entire illusion cannot withstand such a majestic sword intent, and begins to shake.
Tan Yue blocked Ying Wujiu's move after move. Those disciples of the immortal sect were burned by the karmic fire and cried bitterly. They begged him for help at the top of their lungs, but he didn't even have a moment to spare.
Tan Yue led hundreds of immortal families up the mountain in order to besiege the Demon Realm, Ying Wujiu allowed hundreds of immortal families to go up the mountain in order to avenge an old grudge. He had already carefully screened his enemies in the three gates. Now that the Red Lotus Industry is in full swing, it won't be long before this place will become a hell on earth.
Yue Deng was also in the illusion. She saw Ying Wu Jiu and Tan Yue fighting to the death. Just as she was about to step forward to help, a deep and cold male voice suddenly rang out from behind her: "This is a grudge between the two of them. Why would the elder take the risk himself?"
Yue Deng was dizzy from the burning fire, and even her eyes were so dry that she couldn't see clearly. She staggered and turned around, only to see a scholar in white standing not far away. It was Lu Yan, the disciple of Wuwang Sect whom she met in the first round of the trial. She was stunned: "It's you?"
Lu Yan said calmly: "Yinchan's death has nothing to do with Ying Wujiu. The one who killed her was Tan Yue. Elder, you should leave the illusion as soon as possible to avoid unnecessary casualties."
Yue Deng was horrified upon hearing this and looked at Lu Yan warily: "How do you know all this?! Are you a disciple of the Wuwang Sect?!"
Lu Yan shook his head slightly: "It used to be, but not now."
Yuedeng: “What do you mean?!”
Lu Yan: "The literal meaning is just like Fu Guang was a disciple of Wuwang Sect in the past, but now he is the Lord of Demon Realm."
He raised his head and looked at the two people fighting in the sky. Suddenly, a long-lost system prompt sounded in his ears, and finally unlocked the past and present life of Ying Wujiu. However, unlike the long story that Lu Yan had imagined, the man's story only had a short line of words:
[Ying Fuguang was originally the sixth disciple of Wuwang Sect. He saved people and later fell into evil. He was suppressed by the immortal sect and turned into ashes in the furnace of white bone sword. Later, his soul was reborn. Seven hundred years later, he died at the hands of the leader of Wuwang Sect, Donyue.]
Lu Yan was startled, looking confused.
Ying Wujiu, why is your life just this short line of words?
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