Chapter 945: Spirit Mountain Dries Up

Sakyamuni appeared at the end of the path! This was beyond everyone's expectation, and even Ye Fan was stunned. Several old monks excitedly prostrated themselves, incredibly devout, chanting Buddhist names and touching their heads to the ground.

Petals fluttered down, crystalline flowers drifting and rustling, yet they made the world seem even more tranquil. An ancient Bodhi tree was rooted there, and a man of otherworldly presence sat cross-legged beneath it, blending with all things and coexisting with the Great Dao.

His eyes were closed, and glistening flowers settled upon him. He appeared not to have moved for a thousand lifetimes, serene and transcendent.

If a person looked exactly like a Buddha statue in a temple, it would undoubtedly be an phenomenon, inspiring both reverence and awe.

Siddhamoti and the others prostrated with every step, approaching Sakyamuni with immense excitement. Even if they were to die instantly, they would have no regrets.

This was their life's greatest wish: to behold the true Buddha, to prostrate before the Tathagata. On the ancient path leading to Spirit Mountain, their wish came true as they personally witnessed the Buddha's form.

A Quasi-Emperor Sakyamuni! Ye Fan's heart also trembled. This was a figure who only appeared in legends, yet he was now truly seeing him, exceeding all his expectations.

Sakyamuni was an ancient figure from two thousand five hundred years ago. He possessed great wisdom, studied the Vedas, and reviewed Brahmanic teachings. He eventually unified Spirit Mountain and founded Buddhism, leaving behind a glorious holy name in history, renowned throughout all ages and beyond.

The Buddhist masters from India advanced, prostrating with every step. They moved amidst the falling flowers, murmuring to themselves, gradually approaching the ancient Bodhi tree.

Ye Fan also moved forward, but he did not prostrate himself. He simply gazed intently at the Quasi-Emperor beneath the tree. That extraordinary aura made one feel detached from worldly concerns, as if it could resolve all worries in the world.

"Dong..." From the distant mountains, a Buddhist bell tolled slowly. Its sound, traveling dozens or even hundreds of miles, was deafening. It was like a baptism, an enlightenment, purifying everything within oneself.

A bell in an ancient temple deep in the mountains, a Buddha beneath a Bodhi tree—all of this was like a dream. There was not a speck of dust here. Sakyamuni remained motionless, transmitting the Dharma to the great world even without speaking.

"You are late. Spirit Mountain has closed. It will not reappear in the world unless the seas dry up." A ripple of energy came forth, and the figure with closed eyes beneath the Bodhi tree spoke softly, as if conversing with them across time and space.

"Buddha!" Siddhamoti and the others shouted, prostrating themselves continuously. They had heard the true Buddha speaking to them and were thrilled beyond measure.

"Why are we late? We have come bearing the sacred artifact to open the ancient path to Spirit Mountain," Ye Fan asked from not far from the Bodhi tree.

"Spirit Mountain has withered, making it difficult to appear in the mortal world. Though you have the sacred artifact, without the secret incantation, the path cannot be opened." Sakyamuni remained motionless, as if seated in ancient times or preaching in the future. He emanated wisps of sacred waves of the Great Dao, forming a divine halo that made him appear supremely extraordinary.

Ye Fan was filled with doubt and uncertainty. Was this truly Sakyamuni? Hadn't he already crossed the cosmos and ventured deep into the starry sky? How could he be seen here?

Years ago, he had seen the back of Emperor Wu Shi within Purple Mountain. At first, he believed it to be real, but later discovered it was merely a shadow imprinted tens of thousands of years ago.

Was what he was seeing now similar? But why could he converse with them, blend with the Great Dao of heaven and earth, and exude an unparalleled aura that could suppress all heavens throughout eternity?

"The path to Spirit Mountain ends here; turning back is the shore of salvation." Beneath the ancient Bodhi tree, the transcendent middle-aged man spoke softly. His eyes remained tightly closed, his expression peaceful and serene, and every falling flower glistened, imbued with the divine essence of the Great Dao.

Siddhamoti and the others retreated, heeding the Dharma decree. But Ye Fan did not move, because at that moment, he saw the verdant Bodhi tree turning to stone, and even the man beneath it becoming a statue.

The falling flowers turned into stone flowers upon landing. The life fluctuations vanished, and everything seen turned into stone sculptures. It was completely different from moments before; this was the power of Buddhist Dharma.

Ye Fan was relieved. Sakyamuni had journeyed along the ancient star-road; he could not possibly still be on Earth. All of this was a manifestation of great divine power from the past.

Furthermore, if it truly were a Quasi-Emperor, they wouldn't necessarily be able to approach his physical body so closely. The Great Dao merged, all things harmonized; what they saw was merely a manifestation of past Dharma, not his current body.

"This is..." The old monks from India all trembled.

They recalled a legend: the Buddha had ten great disciples, and before his true body departed, they collectively created a Buddha form of Sakyamuni, which was placed on the path to Spirit Mountain.

This must have been the work of the Buddha's ten great disciples. This incarnation of Sakyamuni could display some of his divine powers, and what they had just seen was not illusory. From this, they could infer that Spirit Mountain was close, just a short distance ahead.

However, Siddhamoti and the others halted, refusing to take another step forward. They scrupulously followed Sakyamuni's Dharma decree and dared not disobey.

"Spirit Mountain is within sight. Don't you want to enter? Even if success isn't guaranteed, why not approach and take a closer look?" Ye Fan spoke.

"A sin," the masters said, pressing their palms together. At the same time, they urged Ye Fan not to go any further, but to turn back.

Ye Fan paid them no heed. He bypassed the petrified Bodhi and Sakyamuni, and continued to walk forward. The old monks were stunned, all standing rooted to the spot, staring blankly.

The ancient path wound on for several more miles before finally coming to a complete end. Ahead, faintly visible, a vast mountain range stood at the edge of the world.

There was no vitality there, only an ocean-like fluctuation of Buddhist nature. The entire mountain was devoid of life; not even an auspicious beast or bird could be seen.

Ye Fan opened his Heavenly Eye, but he found it still blurry; the vast Spirit Mountain could not be clearly seen. He only perceived a deep tranquility across the mountain and silent ancient temples.

It was clearly right before them, only dozens of miles away. How could they say Spirit Mountain was closed? He thought for a moment and then strode forward, intending to forge his own path even if there was no clear one.

However, the moment he took his first step, he immediately saw chaos surge, and Spirit Mountain became even more ethereal. It was as if he heard the chanting of ancient Buddhas.

Ye Fan did not stop; he continued forward. But a Buddhist lion's roar resounded, as if an Arhat was chanting a mantra. A demon-subduing staff, formed from Buddhist light, pressed down upon him.

With a soft cry, he unfurled his Golden Sacred Domain, making it impossible for any Dharma to approach him. With a mighty 'boom,' the heavens seemed to collapse from the shock. The demon-subduing staff flew backward, and he strode forward.

In the distance, Siddhamoti and the others watched, dumbfounded. Was he going to confront the Bodhisattvas of all heavens and force his way into Spirit Mountain?!

"Boom!" At that very moment, the area ahead became turbulent. Chaos erupted, and the majestic Spirit Mountain seemed to press down, stifling all who witnessed it.

"Om!" Ye Fan let out a great shout, uttering the Buddhist mantra. At this moment, he was subjected to immense pressure, feeling as though he would be crushed to pieces, despite being a Sacred Body.

This was the might of Spirit Mountain, the fluctuation of vast Buddhist power. It was the collective spiritual power of countless beings who had gathered here in ancient times; no one could resist it.

Chaotic mist surged, and the Eight Legions—Yaksha, Asura, Gandharva, Garuda, and others—emerged. They were also formed from the divine light of Buddhist nature and lunged at Ye Fan. Even the 'Om' mantra was no longer as effective, only shattering parts of them.

Ye Fan retreated, enduring immense pressure. He believed that anyone else would have long since been crushed to death; even his Sacred Body could not withstand it.

Spirit Mountain, truly worthy of its reputation as the most renowned primordial Daoist sanctuary of ancient times, was inviolable and could not be approached.

This place was guarded by an astonishing grand formation. If it was already like this dozens or hundreds of miles away, then truly forcing one's way closer would undoubtedly lead to utter annihilation.

Ye Fan looked at the small stone Buddha in his hand, frowning. Without the secret incantation, merely having this sacred artifact was not enough to enter. He presumed something world-shaking must have been left inside, otherwise it wouldn't be guarded like this.

He knew it would be difficult to enter, but he wanted to approach and see what had happened to Spirit Mountain, why it was like this. With a long roar, the Golden Sacred Blood in his body boiled, surging like great rivers into every meridian, emitting thunderous roars. The Nine Heavens trembled from the shock, harmonizing with the Great Dao.

Ye Fan glowed all over, performing the 'Line' character secret, unleashing various phenomena, and directly charged forward. He finally got a little closer and caught a fleeting glimpse: on cliffs and beside Buddhist altars, old monks sat in meditation, having passed away, in a deathly stillness.

There was no grass or trees; everything was withered. Spiritual springs and ponds had all dried up to their bottoms, devoid of any vitality. It was as if no one had set foot there since ancient times.

A desolate Spirit Mountain!

This was the truth: ancient temples stood tall, with numerous shrines, but there was no one, no Bodhisattva, no ancient Buddha; no living being could be seen.

Absolute silence. One could see Buddhist treasures and great artifacts, covered in dust. Yet there were no living beings, only a deathly stillness.

The mountain's might was boundless and immeasurable, more terrifying than a true ancient star. Ye Fan could not approach; he was repelled by the vast fluctuations, a streak of golden blood flowing from the corner of his mouth.

He did not force it, retreating instead. Spirit Mountain had withered, having undergone a great change, no wonder it was closed.

However, what he saw was likely just the mountain gate. Everything deep within Spirit Mountain was dim. There was a cluster of ancient Bodhi trees, bare of leaves, yet exhibiting Dao marks that obscured the main body of Spirit Mountain.

Moreover, at that very moment, large swathes of mountains became blurry, and the main body of Spirit Mountain vanished completely. This scene was irreversible; even Ye Fan's attempt to infuse his small stone Buddha with magical power proved useless.

"Boom!" Finally, a vast fluctuation surged forth. He was thrown back more than ten miles, and everything vanished.

The sky was azure, like a blue crystal. A few white clouds drifted by, making one feel so close to the heavens, as if one could touch them by jumping. The air was exceptionally fresh.

Ye Fan was stunned. He stood in a snowy region. The tens of thousands of feet high peaks, the vast and unfathomable Spirit Mountain, and the mysterious ancient path had all turned into smoke and clouds, nowhere to be seen again.

A few miles away, the group of monks from India were also astonished. They suddenly found themselves in familiar surroundings for no apparent reason; the ancient path had vanished.

Ye Fan flew over to them and scanned the surroundings. Tibet was at a high altitude and had large mountains, but they were incomparable to what they had just witnessed.

"Where exactly are they hidden? Are the ancient path and Spirit Mountain still within this snowy region?" This was the common question in all their minds.

Ye Fan asked them to wait there. He transformed into a streak of lightning, flying through the sky, releasing his powerful divine sense, sweeping over every inch of land, searching diligently. But ultimately, he found nothing.

Finally, he flew over a thousand miles and landed on a majestic mountain range, where he felt a sense of ancientness. Yet he saw no trace of divinity. This was the mighty Kunlun, stretching across Qinghai and Tibet.

Ye Fan felt a headache coming on. Spirit Mountain was already mysterious enough, hidden in an unknown region, and Kunlun was certainly even more extraordinary. It was the foremost mountain in ancient Chinese mythology, the ancestor of all mountain ranges, and all legends about immortals were connected to it!

Soon after, Ye Fan returned to City B, while the other group returned to India. Before parting ways, the masters agreed with him that they would inquire about the secret incantation for Spirit Mountain, and regardless of whether they gained anything, they would visit and consult him again.

As soon as Ye Fan returned, he felt something was wrong. The lawn outside the old villa was riddled with pits, as if struck by lightning, damaged beyond recognition.

The old villa itself was largely unchanged because he had carved several simple formations, making it difficult to damage even from impact. However, its surroundings were a mess; it was clear that someone had fought here.

"Little Pine!" Ye Fan was startled. He flashed into the house, but it was eerily cold and desolate; there was nothing there.

Where had the little purple creature gone? His heart immediately sank. He searched everywhere, releasing his powerful divine sense and calling out: "Little Pine..."

In the distance, by a trash can, a dirty little creature timidly peeked out. It transformed into a streak of purple light, darted towards him, and immediately latched onto his body, trembling.

"You... what happened?" Ye Fan's heart was far from as calm as his words. He brought it back home and placed it on the sofa.

Little Pine's leg was injured; it limped and had been frightened. But it feigned ease and, to make Ye Fan smile, playfully turned a somersault. It winced in pain but was smiling innocently.

Seeing this, Ye Fan's heart ached. Who had hurt the little purple creature? A murderous intent arose in his heart!

This is a cycle; just as we break through one level, we may also be broken through by others. Please check around mid-month to see if there is a second chapter.