Chapter 606: Jianghuai Sunset

Literary Arts, Xuanjian Immortal Clan!

The river wind by the bank was fierce. Dark, strange, craggy rocks dotted the river, and the current swirled, sometimes calm, sometimes swift. Occasionally, tranquil bends in the water reflected the sky.

In the deep, misty night, there was only one bright point.

A man in platinum armor ascended high into the sky, shining like a brilliant white star in the dim night. The cultivators to the north hesitated for a moment, then all looked up.

“Bianyan Li Xuanfeng…”

Not all the cultivators were mere rogue or clan members; there were also masters among them. They were all silently biding their time, quietly waiting for something. Everything along the river, both north and south, fell eerily silent, with only the sound of the surging river remaining.

Si Yuanli was also a decisive person. Having made his decision, he immediately changed his mindset as if relieved. His sword qi was ethereal as he stood beside Li Xuanfeng, observing carefully.

The cultivators on the north bank were numerous, yet distinctly divided into several factions. Several Buddhist masters gradually arrived, standing firm as mountains at the rear. In front were the clan cultivators and rogue cultivators conscripted from the northern prefectures. Within a single clan, immortal, Buddhist, and demonic cultivators were often mixed, making it very complex.

Rogue cultivators and those from small temples were clearly much purer. They either purely cultivated the Violet Gold Dao or the Demonic Dao, or they practiced both—since both were demonic paths, there was no conflict. Mixed among them were demonic cultivators from all corners of the world, even overseas, who had come to profit.

Si Yuanli observed for a while, vaguely noticing some Zhao Kingdom flags. He wasn't surprised, as the Zhao court had become a puppet of the Buddhist and Daoist sects, though not as hollow as Wu Yue. It looked better on paper for the Buddhist and Daoist sects to conscript cultivators through the Zhao court. He turned to Li Qinghong and whispered:

“Buddhist cultivators from the Schools of Emptiness, Compassion, and Benevolent Joy are gradually arriving. The north bank is no longer as chaotic and leaderless as before. Buddhist cultivators like to seize the fortunes and destinies of this north-south conflict. They certainly won't give up carelessly; we still need to stay alert.”

Boom!

No sooner had he spoken than two claps of thunder echoed from the clouds, and dim, dark smoke and clouds billowed upwards. Li Xuanfeng stood in the air, bathed in golden light, holding his bow. The cultivators before him had been halted by his shout, but after more than ten breaths, they slowly pressed forward again.

Platinum light shimmered in the air, and streams of bright light burst forth from it, piercing into the night on the opposite bank. The man loosened his bowstring and pulled a scroll from his waist.

The scroll was not large and looked ordinary. But now, all eyes from north and south were fixed on him. All their burning gazes immediately settled on the scroll; some were scrutinizing, others were surprised. Everyone's pupils followed the movement of that spiritual artifact.

Li Xuanfeng’s gaze also rested on this spiritual artifact. As his spiritual consciousness and magic power poured into it, the ivory-colored white clasp automatically unfastened. The long painting immediately unfurled, spreading a swathe of white in the air.

Li Xuanfeng held the painting himself and glanced at its content. It depicted a vast map of the Jianghuai region, stretching for ten thousand miles. Its banks were richly detailed, with flying insects, birds, and beasts depicted vividly. It was far longer than the river below, winding and bending, flowing majestically all the way to the East Sea.

His gaze followed the scroll, resting on the inscription at the end:

“Huai River Map, Cui Yan of Boye, Zhenghe 317th Year.”

As soon as the painting unfurled, countless streams of red light gushed forth from it, swirling and leaping in the air like fireflies. Li Xuanfeng’s voice was slightly hoarse, yet strong and clear:

“Glorious Brilliance of the Profound Zenith, the Lingering Sun of Jianghuai…”

No sooner had his voice left his lips than it was absorbed into the painting. The sky instantly brightened, the clouds turned a brilliant golden-yellow, and a sheet of bright light descended from the heavens.

Below, Li Ximing’s pupils slowly dilated. The immortal foundation within him seemed to be stirred, rumbling. His eyes reflected a dazzling radiance as he murmured:

“Bright Sun…”

Under the gaze of ten thousand people, a golden stream flew out from the painting, descending from the sky. A brilliant light appeared beneath Li Xuanfeng’s feet, and the great river had turned a clear, transparent golden hue.

This brilliant river continued to surge forward. A faint shadow appeared beneath it, and in just a breath, a towering pass emerged, breaking through the water and soaring into the sky.

The pass stretched endlessly, its patterns intricate and bright. Its white bricks fit together exquisitely; though somewhat jade-colored, they were even brighter, displaying an ancient and majestic grandeur. It rose along the river, stretching all the way up into the sky.

Whoosh!

The heads of the cultivators slowly rose as their gazes lifted. Gushing golden river water streamed down from the pass, like countless dazzling golden waterfalls.

“Ancient spiritual artifact… Huai River Map.”

A voice from the north muttered, echoing among the cultivators and sounding especially jarring in the silent environment.

The sky once again grew dim. The man in platinum armor stood atop the hundred-zhang profound pass that separated north and south, like an ancient immortal general. Behind him, white ethereal light transformed into rings of halo, illuminating his sides with brilliant light.

Various profound mysteries arose in Li Xuanfeng’s mind. Both of his immortal foundations received a certain blessing, and potent magic power surged forth, allowing him to float lightly in the air. The Celestial Gold Armor enhancing his body became even more pronounced, majestic and imposing, its platinum radiance dazzling and blinding.

Buzz.

He raised his bow, and a profound arrow immediately materialized on the string. A sharp light began to emerge from the bow, and intense qi energy spread out behind him, trailing streaks of golden light that caused his face to alternately brighten and darken.

Whoosh…

A golden light flashed in the air. All Foundation Establishment cultivators felt a sudden surge of alarm in their hearts and frantically conjured their magic artifacts. For a moment, the cultivators on the bank halted, and various colored artifacts ascended—red, orange, green—a vibrant display.

Bang!

The head of a middle-aged cultivator at the very front of the north bank exploded. The magic artifact in his hand was torn into countless fragments, scattering like rain, as explosive magical light and qi energy burst forth, producing a violent roar:

Rumble!

The surrounding cultivators retreated rapidly, scattering like rain. This person hadn't even taken a single blow and was thus shot dead on the spot, leaving only a crimson blush that shot into the sky, transforming into a blood-red glow like twilight.

“An omen… he’s truly dead!”

The old cultivator beside him turned pale and trembled, exclaiming in horror:

“Chunyu Bei is dead… Even if he had injuries, that was just one arrow! Is there any sense to this?!”

“We are, after all, temple masters from various prefectures. Before this man, we are like mere chickens and dogs… What's left to fight for?!”

Before the cultivators could even mourn, the terrified howling rose again in their ears. Five more arrows appeared in the cold, stern man's hand. Those at the bottom cultivation levels—fetal breath, qi refinement, monks, and nuns—couldn't discern the situation and rushed forward ignorantly, but all Foundation Establishment cultivators took a step back in unison.

“No good!”

Boom!

Intense golden light exploded everywhere. The old Daoist priest didn't even have time to observe who else had been killed or injured but saw several black escape lights flying away desperately. Li Xuanfeng let out a slight breath, and surprisingly, five more arrows appeared on his bowstring.

The old Daoist priest instantly felt a chill down his neck, took a step back, and cried out in horror:

“Why has no one stepped forward yet? Are we just to be sent to our deaths?!”

Instantly, fear seized the entire north bank. Even the lesser cultivators on the ground looked up. The escape lights of the Foundation Establishment cultivators flickered in and out of view, showing signs of collapse.

In contrast, on the south bank, cultivators of all ranks were equally astonished. They all looked up at Li Xuanfeng in the sky, their faces revealing expressions of joy, then flew one by one onto the pass, each grasping their magic artifact.

Li Xuanfeng was radiant with light. His arrows moved subtly, and the north side finally couldn't hold on. From behind, a monk flew forth on the wind, powerfully built, with bulging muscles and wide, angry eyes, and he roared:

“Insignificant devil, how dare you be so presumptuous!”

This monk, abandoning the usual scarcity of Buddhist magic artifacts, not only stood on a golden cloud beneath his feet but also held a crescent shovel, covered in bright patterns, looking quite luxurious.

As he rose on the wind, someone immediately followed: a tall, thin monk with a perpetually smiling face. His left hand rested flat against his chest, thumb and forefinger holding a golden ring. Without a word, he silently followed.

Empowered by the spiritual artifact beneath his feet, the brilliant light on Li Xuanfeng’s body extended with his every movement. Not only did it augment his physique and magic power, but it also allowed his spiritual consciousness to spread across the entire riverbank. With cold eyes, he merely plucked the bowstring, and golden streaks of light flowed past his cheeks.

Buzz!

Although the two monks called him a devil, they were not careless in their actions. Their expressions instantly turned serious; the smile on the tall, thin monk's face stiffened, and as if facing a formidable enemy, he conjured the golden ring in his hand.

The golden ring spun and expanded in mid-air, revealing intricate patterns on its surface. It gushed forth a hazy golden light and abruptly captured something shimmering with golden light. The tall, thin monk was instantly overjoyed and commanded:

“Seize!”

The riverbank instantly filled with countless clanging metallic sounds, causing ears to tingle. The tall, thin monk seemed to be facing a formidable enemy, and the muscular monk quickly swung his magic artifact forward, intending to strike Li Xuanfeng.

After these two monks' obstruction, the Foundation Establishment cultivators behind finally approached the riverbank. Cultivators from the north and south immediately began to fight fiercely, and countless lights ascended into the sky, emitting bursts of booming sounds.

Li Xuanfeng’s arrow was obstructed, but his expression remained unchanged. His reputation was formidable, so it was naturally not unexpected that the north would send specific magic artifacts and cultivators to counter him.

“Seeking death.”

This tall, thin monk’s strength was not particularly great; it was evident at a glance that he was merely a pawn sent to test. Only his magic artifact was somewhat unusual. He stomped his profound boots, pulled the bowstring, and sneered:

“Take this!”

The golden-red arrow in his hand instantly vanished, and a burst of golden-red light exploded in the sky. The golden ring seemed to have been fiercely whipped head-on; its magic power dispersed, reverting it to its original form, and it flew backward. The tall, thin monk first spat out a mouthful of fresh blood, his eyes reflecting the golden-red radiance.

Bang!

Li Xuanfeng’s full-power strike, enhanced by the Violet Palace spiritual artifact, already surpassed the arrow he had once shot at Tang Shendu. The tall, thin monk's upper body was instantly torn to shreds; his lower body lingered for an instant longer before also being ripped apart by the qi energy. Only a golden light remained, heading north for reincarnation.

The muscular monk then charged forward, his body covered in golden runes. His crescent shovel descended like a falling meteor, bringing with it a swath of golden light as it smashed down.

Rumble!

The golden light scattered, only to reveal a large hand covered in golden-white scales gripping the magic artifact, holding it firmly in its palm. Platinum patterns on the man's face intertwined with brilliant light, lending a deep solemnity to his originally fierce eyes.

“You?”

His lips parted and closed, uttering cold, resolute words. He forcefully restrained the monk, preventing him from retreating, his voice reverberating in the air like thunder:

“Since Tang Shendu rebelled and established the Earthly Compassionate Sect, killing me in this great north-south struggle must be a good opportunity…”

Rings of bright light rippled behind the man, his golden armor resplendent, the patterns on his face imposing. One hand rested flat before him, casually holding the muscular monk's magic artifact. His eyes, glowing with golden light, turned northward.

“Come out, all of you!”

This voice, rumbling like thunder, echoed through the clouds, causing everyone to turn their heads.

Figures appeared around him. Some held spears or staffs, others carried vases or rings. Their faces bore the compassionate expression of golden statues, and their bodies were indestructible Vajra bodies. Scattered here and there, about a dozen of them stood in the air, all their gazes piercing coldly toward him.

Their voices resonated in the air, male and female, as if ten thousand people were shouting in unison:

“Audacious fiend!”

A black-clad youth appeared from the black smoke, clutching a talisman tightly in his hand. He pierced through the cultivators on the north bank, moving deep into the north, landing on a small mountain there.

A large, corpulent monk, clad in a kasaya, came to meet him. His face lit up with a smile when he saw the youth, and he simply said:

“Fellow Daoist Yu!”

“Master Xuwang.”

Yu Jiang casually replied. His expression was composed, but his mind was somewhat elsewhere. He raised an eyebrow and asked:

“Why does the Buddhist-Daoist sect have so many immortals and devils under its command?”

“Ah…” Xuwang chuckled twice and replied:

“What do you mean by that? My Orthodox Sect is most magnanimous and treats everyone equally. How could we possibly coerce immortals and devils or forbid others from their cultivation paths? Fellow Daoist, you are after all from the Southern Sea; you've only heard that Great Zhao is a Buddhist nation, so you're making assumptions…”

He spoke earnestly:

“Although our Great Zhao respects Buddhism, there are still many practitioners of both immortal and demonic paths. In the prefectural cities, they follow our Buddhist path, but in the surrounding prefectures, rural areas, and mountain ranges, our Buddhist cultivators never interfere, leaving them to those with affinity…”

As he spoke, he led Yu Jiang to the mountaintop. Several people were already seated in the main hall on the mountaintop. One of them, dressed in Daoist robes, had a gloomy expression. Hearing the words from afar, he let out a cold snort:

“Exactly! What Buddhism would there be without demonic cultivators? The common folk are clever! The more rampant the demonic cultivators become, the more sincerely people believe! Haven't you heard that beneath the Buddhist mountains lies hell?”

He glanced briefly, recognized Yu Jiang, and his tone softened slightly as he casually remarked:

“Fellow Daoist, you hail from Danrong Wuluo in the Southern Sea, the place where the Honored One achieved enlightenment. Currently, it has the most demonic cultivators, does it not?”

These words reached Xuwang's ears, but the fat-headed, big-eared monk was not angered; he merely smiled and said:

“What kind of talk is that? We respect other paths and do not interfere with the cultivators in the mountains. They cultivated on their own and became demonic, eating people and drinking blood, causing fear among the common folk. When they were finally killed by us, it only added to our merits.”

The man in Daoist robes gave a cold laugh but could not say anything in retort. Yu Jiang turned his gaze. On the other side was an effeminate man, dressed in a python robe, silently drinking tea.

Yu Jiang sat down nearby. He understood the other party's intention in inviting him, but still coldly said:

“Master, why did you invite me so urgently? What is the matter?”

Xuwang chuckled, then whispered:

“The Mahakarunika masters have lost contact. This is precisely the time for us to divine the Honored One's will… Fellow Daoist Yu, you can still contact high-level cultivators, can you not offer us some guidance?”

“What is there to guide?!”

Yu Jiang understood his meaning but deliberately did not expose it, wanting to gather more information. Instead, he stood up, pointed southward, and said coldly:

“Can't you see what's happening on the south side? You're asking me to break a Violet Palace spiritual artifact? You think too highly of me! This matter is troublesome; please find someone more capable!”

“Not at all! Not at all!”

The fat-headed, big-eared monk repeatedly shook his head, chuckling:

“The situation changes; how can our strategy remain unchanged?”

“That fierce man to the south…”

The monk laughed loudly and replied:

“Of course, that’s an opportunity for our fellow Buddhist disciples; there’s no need for you Daoists to worry about it!”

Yu Jiang’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing this. But then he saw the monk point northward, a smile appearing on his face, and say softly:

“Fellow Daoist, you have enmity with Qingchi, do you not? Only you, Fellow Daoist, can swiftly break the grand formation of Bianyan Mountain!”