Chapter 1719: Call Me Fellow Daoist

The Human World

At Fujiang Estuary.

On a reef, several figures stood with their hands lowered, gazing eastward.

Suddenly, a dark silhouette appeared on the sea surface: a person riding a lion.

"Greetings, Master."

The Underworld Moon Guards bowed in salute, then sensed something unusual. They looked again and realized the black lion was actually a Great Sage of the demon race.

The black lion was their Master's mount. They had not yet been granted permission to join the Green Goat Monastery, so their status was not particularly high, and their cultivation was far inferior to the black lion's.

The Underworld Moon Guards dared not show the slightest disrespect and bowed to the black lion once more.

The black lion snorted, raised its head, and looked arrogant.

"How are your investigations progressing?" Qin Sang dismounted from the black lion onto the reef and asked.

One of the Underworld Moon Guards immediately stepped forward, presented a jade slip, and said, "Reporting to Master, we have completed all arrangements as per your instructions."

Qin Sang's main body had recently been staying in the East Sea, while his external incarnation was giving commands. At that moment, his external incarnation was busy with other matters in Middle State and couldn't arrive in time.

After reading the jade slip, Qin Sang looked towards the Central Plains. The collapse of the Saint King's Palace and the disappearance of the Azure Fox Saint King indirectly proved that the two Soul Transformation cultivators were deeply affected by the Heavenly Dao's Demonic Sound. Even if they hadn't ascended, they couldn't extricate themselves.

While he instigated demon clan civil strife in the East Sea, his external incarnation wasn't idle either, secretly investigating the Three Sects Alliance in an attempt to find some clues. For now, he could only visit the two fellow Daoists in person.

"You go ahead and make preparations." Qin Sang waved his hand, dismissing the Underworld Moon Guards.

"Understood!" The Underworld Moon Guards departed as ordered.

Qin Sang rode the black lion onto land, his destination clear: the Sweet Dew Chan Monastery. The journey was uneventful.

Instead of directly visiting the Sweet Dew Chan Monastery, Qin Sang appeared in its back mountains, standing on a peak and gazing at the mist-shrouded ranges.

"What a magnificent Chan Monastery!" Qin Sang exclaimed in admiration.

His external incarnation had entered and exited the Sweet Dew Chan Monastery many times, but this was the first time Qin Sang's main body had 'personally' witnessed its grandeur. The top sects in Middle State were indeed exceptionally favored. Mount Bunian was still a step below this place. He recalled that in the past, the two Southern Barbarian States, where the Formless Immortal Sect was located, should have been even grander than Middle State, but unfortunately, they were destroyed in the demonic tribulation.

"Master, are you going to take over this Daoist ground?" the black lion beside him asked in a deep voice.

Qin Sang glanced at the black lion. This fellow surely knew that the Sweet Dew Chan Monastery had a Saint overseeing it, yet it pretended to be foolish to please its master. No wonder it could cultivate to the late-stage transformation, making it a top-tier mount.

He channeled his vision and looked towards one of the peaks. The Buddhist Saint's Daoist ground — Mount Xiaofangcun. These mountains were clearly real, yet they couldn't be seen clearly; his vision was blocked by an invisible force. Here, Qin Sang couldn't sense any demonic energy or the aura of Soul Transformation cultivators. After secretly peeking with the Heavenly Eye Butterfly ability for a while, he sat down cross-legged.

One month later.

Suddenly, dozens of golden streaks of light flew out from the Sweet Dew Chan Monastery, hovered briefly in front of the mountain, and then headed southwest. Within the streaks of light were all disciples of the monastery, led by a portly monk with a bulging belly and a wine gourd hanging from his waist. He was always smiling, like the Maitreya Buddha enshrined in temples.

The portly monk was as profound as the sea. He didn't seem to ride any magical artifact, yet he walked through the air with seemingly leisurely steps but extremely fast speed. The novice monks behind him could barely keep up even with all their might. Compared to the portly monk, the aura of these young novices was much weaker. Each of them had a flushed face, furiously wielding various magical artifacts as they chased, with only a few appearing unbothered. Observing their cultivation levels, apart from the portly monk, there were only two young Golden Core stage monks; the rest were merely at the Foundation Establishment stage.

The portly monk led the team, flying through the air. Along the way, any cultivators they encountered would stop and salute him respectfully. Those familiar with him would smile and say, "This time, for the disciples' training, Venerable Jingding is personally escorting them."

The portly monk opened his wine gourd, took a swig, and sighed, shaking his head, "This poor monk is simply fated for hard work."

The other person surveyed the disciples behind him, nodded, and praised, "All are excellent talents."

To care for his disciples, the portly monk stopped several times along the way, traversing countless mountains and rivers until they reached a mountain range hundreds of miles in circumference with no human habitation. Outsiders would not perceive anything unusual about this mountain.

The portly monk picked up his wine gourd, tilted it downwards, and a stream of clear water flew out. Upon reaching the mountain, it transformed into a torrential downpour that splattered for a while. After the rain, the peaks appeared fresh and natural, the vegetation verdant and clear, and a faint scent of wine lingered. Looking at the central peak, the scenery had completely transformed, as if a seal had been broken, revealing its true form. The peak had split down the middle, with a continuous stream of dark red mist rising from it. This mist was eventually blocked by some force at the mountain's summit, gathering into a red cloud, accompanied by a strange mixture of hot and cold auras.

Seeing the red cloud, the disciples behind were filled with both anticipation and curiosity.

The portly monk shook his wine gourd, wincing slightly, "You remember the rules of this trial better than I, this old monk. Since you've managed to stand out among so many fellow disciples, remember that this opportunity is hard-earned. Do not treat it lightly. Go!"

With that, the portly monk, familiar with the way, landed on a large boulder in the mountain. The boulder was flat like a stone bed. The portly monk lay down on the spot, crossed his legs, propped his head with one hand, and with the other, took a satisfying swig from his wine gourd before closing his eyes contentedly.

"Master, the abbot says you lack composure, which is why you're trapped by your bottleneck. You should take the precepts." The two young monks landed beside the stone bed. One of them, grim-faced, said with a frown.

"This master was born with profound wisdom; there's no need for me to take precepts." The portly monk shook his head.

The two exchanged a look of helplessness, then signaled the disciples to pass through the red mist and enter the mountain crevice. The deeper they went, the thicker the mist became, making it impossible to see, but fortunately, their divine sense was not significantly affected.

The novices felt the space widen the deeper they ventured, unaware of how far underground they had gone. The two monks leading the way stopped on a platform. "Alright, my junior brother and I will wait for you here. This Red Cloud Spiritual Ground offers both opportunities and dangers. If you encounter peril, crush your jade talisman; we will rescue you, but you will also forfeit your qualifications. Please consider carefully."

With that, the two vigorously waved their sleeves. A chorus of startled cries ensued. The novices felt the world spin, finding themselves thrown to an unknown location.

Leaving aside the individual opportunities below...

The portly monk lay on the stone bed, not reciting scriptures, occasionally taking a sip of wine and gazing at the sky, utterly content. This trial would last at least ten days. The wine the portly monk drank was no ordinary vintage. He narrowed his eyes, secretly cultivating, his breathing even, as if about to fall asleep.

Suddenly, the stone bed beneath him vibrated violently. The portly monk's eyes snapped open, realizing it wasn't the bed moving, but the entire mountain was shaking!

"What's happening?" The portly monk was filled with alarm and uncertainty. This Red Cloud Spiritual Ground had served as a trial ground for over a thousand years without a single mishap. His thoughts raced. He suddenly remembered that before being chosen as a trial ground, the Red Cloud Spiritual Ground was once a forbidden area for the sect. Its depths not only held strange red mist but also ancient remnants of formations. It was only after years of investigation by the sect's experts that the dangers were eliminated.

"Could there be something hidden beneath the remnants of the formation?" The portly monk dared not delay. He summoned a refined iron monk's staff, leaped into the mountain crevice, and swiftly arrived at the platform. Sensing no aura from the disciples, his expression darkened further. He raised his staff and smashed it downwards with force.

*Swish!*

The monk's staff tore through the air, sending forth a golden glow that transformed into a golden staff several times its original size, piercing through the mist and plummeting downwards. The staff paved the way. The portly monk plummeted rapidly.

Unexpectedly, not long after he descended, he suddenly heard a thunderous roar from below, like a mountain collapsing or a tsunami. The portly monk's heart leaped. He focused his gaze and saw thick smoke rolling skyward. This smoke was not red, but pitch black like ink. Deep within the black smoke, faint pieces of silk-like material drifted, their runes flickering, appearing to be fragments of some kind.

As he was responsible for guarding this Red Cloud Spiritual Ground, he naturally knew what this was.

"Oh no, the remnant formation has changed!" The black smoke surged fiercely, and the silk-like pieces coiled around him like spiritual serpents. The portly monk was greatly alarmed. He immediately crushed the wooden token at his waist, thrust his staff downwards with force, and summoned a jade mirror that scattered white light everywhere. The black smoke was incredibly powerful. In an instant, it swept away the white light, swallowing the monk and his staff whole.

The moment the wooden token shattered.

Ten thousand li away from the Red Cloud Spiritual Ground.

An old monk, with a bamboo staff and straw sandals, was begging for alms in the mortal world. He suddenly looked up towards the west, and his figure vanished in an instant. The homeowner, who happened to come out with steamed buns, thought he had imagined it. He rubbed his eyes and exclaimed, "Bodhisattva!"

Not long after.

The old monk appeared above the red clouds, looking down at the Red Cloud Spiritual Ground. By this time, faint wisps of black qi could vaguely be seen churning within the red mist. The old monk scanned the area, frowned slightly, and tightened his grip on the alms bowl in his hand. The wooden alms bowl burst forth with a brilliant purple light, transforming into a violet-gold alms bowl. He inverted it downwards, and a purple beam, like a sharp arrow, pierced through the red mist.

Sensing the portly monk's aura, his expression shifted slightly, and he flashed into the mountain peak.

The portly monk was wielding his staff, continuously changing several spell formations, and struggling forward. With the changes in this place, the disciples were likely in grave danger, but as he was responsible for their protection, he could not abandon them. What he couldn't see was that at the source of the black smoke, several figures were seated cross-legged within the ancient remnant formation, casting spells, with a majestic black lion beside them.

Suddenly, the black lion opened its eyes, its four hooves stomped, and it charged fiercely outwards. By this time, the old monk had also rushed into the black smoke, nearing the portly monk. More perceptive than the portly monk, he sensed something amiss and suddenly roared, "What demon dares to cause trouble in the Central Plains!"

He twirled the alms bowl in his hand. Inside, it was somehow filled with clear water, yet not a single drop spilled even when the bowl was upright, like a mirror. It reflected the shadowy image of a black lion. Amidst the urgency, he didn't forget to use a secret technique to alert the sect.

The moment the black lion was reflected, a wicked wind assailed him from nearby. The black lion, with a menacing aura, raised its massive paw and slammed it fiercely towards the old monk. Its sharp claws gleamed coldly, as keen as knives, tearing through the monk's protective true essence. Its first move was a killing blow.

The old monk snorted coldly. The Buddhist beads on his body suddenly snapped, and the yellow wooden beads shot towards the black lion with a *whoosh*. The wooden beads transformed, each carved with a Buddha, every one lifelike and in a different pose. Buddhist light surged. Indeed, before the black lion, statues of Buddhas appeared, all glaring at it with fury. In the unseen realm, it seemed as if true Buddhas were delivering a thunderous rebuke into the black lion's ears. The Buddha statues solidified from illusion, moving with the might of thunder, striking first despite appearing later, jointly attacking the black lion.

The black lion roared, shaking its neck, and miraculously grew more than a dozen heads. Each head aimed at a Buddha, opening its bloody maw and spitting black light, forcibly repelling the Buddhas. Simultaneously, its front paw thrust towards the old monk's chest with even greater speed.

*Clang!*

The violet-gold alms bowl had appeared before the old monk's chest at some unknown moment, blocking the black lion's sharp claws. The old monk's figure trembled, and he retreated dozens of zhang, looking at the black lion with a face full of surprise. "Fellow Daoist Black Lion, is that you?"

"You humans are ambitious and treacherous, daring to plot against the Saint King! Prepare to die!" The black lion casually found an excuse, dispersed the wooden Buddhas, and surged forward.

The old monk was utterly astonished by these words. "How could you..." Just as the words were about to leave his mouth, he suddenly realized that given the nature of that demon fox, she likely hadn't informed her subordinates of the true situation. Alas, this black lion was fiercely loyal to her! The black lion ignored his explanations, fighting as if its life depended on it.

The old monk maneuvered, about to speak, when he suddenly felt a chill and saw another familiar figure, which startled him even more. "Daoist Master Qingfeng?"

At this moment, Qin Sang's main body stood outside the mountain crevice, having already sealed off the battlefield. Even with the old monk's vast supernatural powers, escape was impossible. He did not intervene in the fight but looked towards the Sweet Dew Chan Monastery, as the old monk's warning had already been sent back.

Sweet Dew Chan Monastery.

Master Xingji was in discussion with a senior monk. Suddenly, an abbot's attendant came to report, "Senior Brother Jingding has warned that the Red Cloud Spiritual Ground has undergone a change."

"The Red Cloud Spiritual Ground?" Master Xingji and the senior monk exchanged a glance.

The senior monk said, "Today is the day for the Chan Monastery disciples' trial... The threats in that forbidden area were long cleared. How could something happen there? And Jingding can't handle it?"

Master Xingji rose and said, "Junior Brother, come with me..." Before he could finish, Master Xingji's expression softened slightly, and he smiled, "Senior Brother Xingren is traveling in the mortal world and is currently near the Red Cloud Spiritual Ground. He has already gone there."

"With Senior Brother Xingren there, everything should be fine." The senior monk nodded.

Master Xingji gave orders and then sat back down. Senior Brother Xingren was a late-stage Nascent Soul cultivator, second only to him. If not for his devotion to Buddhist dharma, repeatedly taking mortal forms to travel the world, with the longest instance lasting nearly a century, which delayed his cultivation, he might have reached the Soul Transformation bottleneck even earlier than Master Xingji. Thinking of this, Master Xingji's mood suddenly grew heavy. What was the point of discussing Soul Transformation now?

Dismissing his stray thoughts, Master Xingji was about to speak when his face suddenly changed drastically. He said in a deep voice, "Senior Brother Xingren is in danger!" As he spoke, the two monks already appeared outside the monastery gates. Simultaneously, a bell chimed within the Chan Monastery, and a series of whooshing sounds pierced the air as streaks of light shot out one after another. Master Xingji and other cultivators with the highest cultivation levels moved first, with the others following closely. In the past, Master Xingji would have had to consider thoroughly whether an old enemy had come to cause trouble, but now, he no longer needed to worry about the threat of Soul Transformation cultivators.

The Red Cloud Spiritual Ground was not far from the Sweet Dew Chan Monastery. Master Xingji and the others soon saw the mountain peaks shrouded in thick smoke. What poured out was not red clouds, but plumes of black smoke. The aura within was chaotic, clearly indicating a battle was underway. Observing the aura of the place, it seemed Senior Brother Xingren was at a disadvantage and in grave peril!

The monks summoned their magical treasures and rushed into the spiritual ground, but before they could fully assess the situation, they suddenly heard a sigh from behind them.

"Is Fellow Daoist Huiguang no longer in this realm?"

Master Xingji shuddered and turned around, seeing a Daoist standing behind them. A hint of loneliness was in Qin Sang's eyes. With major cultivators in the sect having met with misfortune and unable to extricate themselves, it was reasonable for Soul Transformation cultivators to appear and offer assistance.