Chapter 117 The Celestial Demon’s Return
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Blood trickled down his sword blade, mixed with rainwater, drip by drip.
It was a stormy night when he entered the secluded village, dressed in a straw raincoat, blending into the darkness.
At the entrance of the village, a house still had its lights on. A married couple seemed to be arguing, entangled in petty matters of their daily lives. Their voices were drowned out by the noisy rain. Their little child was by the window, lying on the sill, extending short and chubby hands to catch raindrops under the roof.
Ji Wuyou approached slowly.
The night grew darker, with heavy rain pouring down. The two-and-a-half-year-old child’s eyes drooped as his parents argued incessantly about the problem of a single ox cart. He was already getting a little tired, but no one helped him take a bath or carried him to bed. The wind blew against his face, carrying a strange salty smell. The child reached up his hand into the air, blinking his eyes. Suddenly, a lightning bolt flashed in the sky like a silver snake, illuminating everything in a pale light. But he wasn’t scared. His attention had already been captivated by the person walking towards him, carrying a sword.
That person wore a straw hat and a raincoat.
The child’s clear eyes remained fixed on him, unmoving.
Ji Wuyou also walked closer to him.
He walked up to the window.
Not far from the wooden house, there was a rice field, and at the end of the path through the fields, there stood a tree.
Ji Wuyou’s figure conveniently blocked the child’s view.
The child paused for a moment, feeling a bit scared. He withdrew his hand, but then he thought that he was in his own home now, so there was nothing to fear.
So he asked, “Mister, are you here to find someone?”
In a place out of sight, a woman dressed in apricot-yellow clothing stood in the rain, smiling gently, untouched by the water. Her eyes smiled as she looked over, showing neither pity nor malice.
She was like an emotionless Buddha, free from sorrow, joy, love, or hatred.
The quarreling couple also heard and walked from the inner room toward them. The wife exclaimed, “What’s going on, Haobao? Who are you talking to?” At the same time, she turned back sharply to her husband and said, “I don’t care anymore. Tomorrow, return that ox cart to that deceitful old man. If you don’t return it, I’ll take our son back to my parents’ home, and you can sleep in the cart yourself.” The woman’s footsteps approached from that direction.
The child knew his mother was coming, so he became even less afraid. With clear and distinct eyes, he stared at Ji Wuyou and asked, his voice clear, “Why haven’t I seen you before?”
As lightning flashed, the person in the straw raincoat slowly lifted his head. His features, cleansed by the rain, had transformed from a once timid and self-deprecating youth to a more determined and menacing face.
His eyes were also icy and had a deep purple hue, resembling the pupils of a venomous snake.
In the instant the sword was thrust, the child immediately sensed something was wrong and opened his mouth to speak, “Big Brother…” But it was too late, as the sword swung horizontally through the window.
His eyes didn’t even have time to close as his vision seemed to invert. His head felt as if it was falling downward, and blood gushed from his neck.
At the same time, the wife approached closer, muttering, “Are you not just talking to yourself in the middle of the night, Haobao? The water is almost ready, hurry up and take off your clothes for a bath.” As she lifted the curtain, a momentary occurrence caused something warm and red to spray directly onto her face. The woman’s voice abruptly halted, and her whole body froze as if devoid of a soul.
Half a moment later, a piercing and sorrowful scream echoed through the entire rainy night.
The master of the house sat by the heated bed, initially torn and indecisive. Upon hearing his wife’s scream, he immediately rushed over in a state of panic. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
However, as he approached, all he saw were his wife and child lying on the ground amidst a pool of blood.
Ji Wuyou had already entered the room, observing the woman who clutched the lifeless body of her child, sobbing inconsolably. Devoid of any compassion, he drew out his sword. The woman’s eyes were bloodshot, filled with a desire to pounce and bite him to death. However, before the venomous curses in her mouth could be said, she turned around and heard the sound of bones being cleanly severed.
A sword ꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴋ ʜᴇʀ ᴍɪᴅꜱᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ, ꜱᴘʟɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛᴡᴏ.
Outside, thunder roared incessantly.
Ji Wuyou’s mind was now empty, but he found an unusually comforting sensation washing over him. Taking lives seemed to be his destined fate.
Holding the sword, he turned around.
What he saw was a man who was usually been dull and silent, but now his face was pale.
All the color seemed to drain from his face, leaving only his eyes burning red.
He stared at Ji Wuyou, his pupils contracting, and his teeth trembling.
The figure before him, wearing a cloak and hat, was familiar to him. The man’s internal organs twisted in pain, and his voice pierced through the endless night, filled with despair, “Ji… Wu… You!”
Ji Wuyou pursed his lips. He couldn’t even recall who he was, but now he found pleasure in killing. Something was slowly taking shape in his heart. Ji Wuyou ignored the man. Expressionlessly, he raised his sword to strike down.
Just as the sword was about to cleave the man in half, a sudden turn of events occurred.
A silvery gust of wind crackled through the window, and the immense power of a Nascent Soul directly knocked the sword out of Ji Wuyou’s hand. A voice filled with raging anger descended from the sky, “Ji Wuyou! What are you doing?”
Overwhelming pressure surged, causing the still at the Foundation Establishment Stage Ji Wuyou to stumble backward, step by step.
He opened his mouth and spat out a mouthful of blood.
Ji Wuyou’s eyes widened abruptly. His face turned extremely pale because he was all too familiar with the sword intent within that gust of wind—it was Yunxiao’s!
The man was saved, returning from the brink of death. His legs gave way, and he knelt down, crawling to the side of his deceased wife and child, burying his head and crying in agony.
A profound sword intent directly cleaved through the low wooden house.
Tianya Daoren’s hands trembled with anger. In the pouring rain of the night, tiny white lights gradually illuminated around him. The oppressive aura of the Nascent Soul’s immense power was terrifying. As he gazed at the lifeless bodies of the woman and child on the ground, his eyes, accustomed to detachment from worldly matters, were filled with shock and anger.
Tianya Daoren closed his eyes and then said, “You, who indiscriminately slaughter the innocent, deserve punishment. You have always been a demon, an evildoer. Today, I am cleansing the sect and upholding justice on behalf of the heavens!”
Ji Wuyou fell to the ground, staring blankly at the elderly man with flowing white hair in the air…
“Master…” This was Yunxiao Sect Master.
Ji Wuyou suddenly felt intense pain in his chest, and in a daze, he knew that something had been completely lost. Blood tingled as it coursed through his veins. Placing his fingers into the ground, he gasped for breath and murmured, “Master… Master…”
Tianya Daoren remained indifferent. “You don’t deserve to call me ‘master’. Tianqian Peak doesn’t produce individuals like you.”
Qin Qianhuan, a reincarnation of Buddha and imbued with the power of the Heavenly Dao, had cultivation surpassing that of the Nascent Soul stage. Concealing her presence, Tianya Daoren naturally couldn’t see her. She stood not far away, rotating her relic, observing everything with a cold gaze, without any intention to intervene or stop it.
Ji Wuyou felt as if struck by a heavy blow, bending over before breaking into a low laughter after a prolonged silence.
“Yes, I never belonged to Yunxiao, nor did I belong to Tianqian Peak. I am a Celestial Demon, destined to diverge from your path of righteousness.”
Shijia Temple.
Wu Sheng held a lantern as he stepped into the long-sealed Hall of Rebirth. Layers of dust had accumulated here, and countless Buddha statues stood above, silently observing as if viewing ants.
Memories of his master’s words resurfaced in his mind.
“When I saw the eye of the Buddha upon the lotus platform, I knew that the situation had developed to the least optimistic state. An ancestor of the Institute of Celestial Ascension told me that one day, you alone would pass through the Hall of Rebirth, concluding your own rebirth. Do you understand?
Wu Sheng paused, raising the lantern high in his hand and walking toward the end.
“At the time of your birth, all things were as bright as lanterns, and I knew you were not an ordinary person. Ten thousand years ago, the Nine Heavens Buddha fell, scattering the Zen consciousness. Only one person chose to seal their Zen consciousness within the Hall of Rebirth, alone.
“Why are you called Bailing Fuyan (White Veil Covering the Eyes)?… Because everything in this world is impure, and even light is tainted in your eyes. I heard the crumbling of the idol in the Hall of Rebirth, revealing its true form.It is time for you to conclude your rebirth. Your birth relic is the core of your being. You shall become the Radiant Buddha.”
Finally reaching the end, he placed the lantern on the Buddha niche. With trembling eyelashes, he slowly removed the white silk that covered his eyes.
The young monk opened his eyes, a pale gold almost pure white, radiating the light of thousands of Buddhas. Sacred and distant, in the silent ancient hall, he lifted his head, gazing at the end of the Buddha statues. One statue crumbled, unveiling its true form, with a seven-foot halo and a radiant body that extended infinitely. At this moment, his closed eyes were serene, hands clasped together.
Wu Sheng softly uttered his name in his heart.
The Primordial Lamp-lighting Buddha.
The Ancestor of Ten Thousand Buddhas.
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