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Unlike Guan Hai, the Lanke Temple’s monk, whose heart was in the esoteric state and his cultivation was in palm emblems, the sadhu drinking water in the morning at street of Chang’an in broken straw shoes had a clear goal for his trip. He wanted to use challenging the Academy’s disciple who entered the human realm as an opportunity to cripple or even kill Ning Que.

Ning Que had not rested for 24 hours. He had not slept or even sat for a while. He had eaten or drunk nothing. Physical tiredness and tons of emotions had exhausted him. It seemed that he would die no matter what in the face of such a terrifying powerhouse of the Buddhism Sect.

Ning Que had encountered his greatest fear when he discovered that Sangsang had left home yesterday morning and he might never see her again. It was the first time he had the impulse to kill himself. He wrangled with the idea of whether he should in the middle of the night by the Yanming Lake where he cursed it.

However, Sang Sang was still in Chang’an City, and he had finally made a difficult decision. How could he die at this moment? If he died now, wouldn’t it be a waste of all the pains and struggles he had experienced previously? If he were to die now, then he should had visited the House of Red Sleeves for a happy night.

The middle-aged monk wanted to kill him, but he did not want to die. He had to kill the monk.

After all, the pure white lotus flowers in the air were not really Sangsang’s little feet. And no matter whether it was a stone Buddha or a real God hidden behind the curtain of flowers, it would not stop him from heading there with his big black umbrella.

As long as that place was not Sangsang that he would never be able to beat.

Then nothing could stop him. He would destroy any barrier in front of him.

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The big black umbrella was very big and it blocked his vision and the sky.

White lotus flowers fell from the sky slowly. Some landed on the surface of the thick, greasy black umbrella, gradually melted and disappear. Some fell on the surface of the black umbrella like dewdrops on a drum surface, bouncing back into the air with a thwack sound. However, most of the white lotus flowers scattered in fear when they neared the black umbrella.

Ning Que held the big black umbrella and walked towards the stone Buddha with a bloody face. He walked slowly but steadily, and he was unhurried. He looked like a tourist who was walking on a bridge across the lake, trying to pick willows on the other side of the shore.

As he walked, the shower of flowers was torn apart. Tens of thousands of lotus petals moved away slowly, trying to evade the black umbrella, thus causing several streaks of turbulence.

Tens of thousands of lotus petals whistled and swirled in the air. They flew higher and toward the lonely sky and fell slowly onto the stone Buddha’s face and body. Due to the sticky blood, these petals did not lift up into the air once more. Instead, they gradually covered the entire face of the stone Buddha.

The white lotus petals covered the stone Buddha’s face densely. Blood oozed out from the overlapping edges of the flowers, making them look especially clear. The petals were so many that they looked extremely terrifying.

Ning Que walked beneath the big black umbrella in the thinning rain of withering petals.

He was getting closer and closer to the stone Buddha.

The middle-aged monk called Dao Shi was indeed very powerful, no matter his cultivation state or the ability to use the arts of Buddhism Sect. He was even as powerful as the Tao Addict, Ye Hongyu.

However,it was pity that he was a monk who could only use Zen to attack and kill.

But his target was Ning Que who carried the big black umbrella.

Ning Que did not have too much experience fighting with Psyche Masters. That was why he had been forced into the extremely dangerous stage of the pure land of lotus flowers by the middle-aged monk. However, he had used his powerful Psyche Power and strong body that he had acquired after joining the Devil and gained control of the situation.

In theory, a Psyche Master was the strongest amongst cultivators of the same state. However, the big black umbrella was able to block all Psyche attacks. That was why Ning Que was the nightmare of all Psyche Masters.

Ning Que had many doubts as to why the middle-aged monk would want to kill him and wanted to find the secrets behind it. That was why he was willing to use such a painful method of facing the rain of lotus flowers with his own flesh to gain time for questioning. Or perhaps he just wanted to feel pain? Physical pain could usually relieve emotional pain or annoyance. And he was already on the verge of breaking down from the annoyance.

And since he made the decision, he did not bother with anything else. The killing intention exuded from Ning Que.

A strong killing intent passed through his hands to the umbrella’s handle and to the whole umbrella. Then, it spread to the air around him causing the rain of lotus flowers to evade it in fear before reaching the stone Buddha’s blood covered face.

Ning Que’s killing intent had been brewing since Sangsang left home. It grew and became more terrifying as he searched on the streets of Chang’an and had almost torn apart the entire city. Then, it had been blown by the night breeze by the lake last night until it became as hot and hard as a sausage.

You could eat it with alcohol, and it would motivate you to kill someone.

Ning Que stopped at the feet of the stone Buddha and carried the big black umbrella like a knife on his shoulders. He looked up.

The stone Buddha’s face was covered densely in lotus petals, and blood oozed from gaps between petals.

The Buddha’s eyes were not covered by the petals, but in his eyes, compassion and anger were replaced by confusion.

Ning Que looked at the Buddha’s face that was covered in blood and petals. After a moment of silence, he used his right palm like a knife, and issued a blow at it from thousands feet away.

There was no sharp sounds of a blade striking.

And there was not any blade aura that could spread thousands miles.

The thin rain of lotus flowers danced gently.

All was silent before the Buddha.

However, a large and deep lash appeared on the Buddha’s face.

It began from the Buddha’s temple and stretched down diagonally to the left face, breaking the vague smile on his lips.

The lotus flowers that had been cut through were smashed into a mud and flowed with the blood.

The confusion in the stone Buddha’s eyes was quickly replaced with fear and shock.

The lotus petals began to fall from the stone Buddha’s face. It could be due to the stickiness of the blood, but each petal would bring a tiny piece of rock with it when it fell.

As the petals fell, the cracks that had been present on Buddha’s face grew deeper and its face was ruined. Then the left part of his brows, eyes, nose, and lips began to fall to the ground like stone rain.

It looked as if thousands years of weathering was finished within this moment.

The stone statue collapsed, bringing up a flurry of dust and some lotus petals.

Ning Que stood before the rubble with his big black umbrella.

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A single movement of Psyche would affect things thousands miles away and cause changes which needed thousands years.

The battle in the spiritual realm had taken a long time, but in physical world, only a short moment had passed.

At that moment, one more section of the intestines the skinny martial monk held in his hands fell out. Chen Pipi’s whose face was pale, thought that Ning Que had died. Then, he decided that he would smash his obsessions and rules and begin on a lifetime quest of killing Buddha.

A slight breeze came through the streets shortly after the moment.

The slight breeze dissipated the steam from the bun shop and swirled around the corners of Ning Que’s robes. It tousled his hair that was tied carelessly. It blew at the big black umbrella, causing it to sway gently.

An aura radiated from Ning Que together with the morning breeze. The aura was filled with vitality, pride and confidence. It was extremely strong.

Ning Que opened his eyes and looked at the middle-aged man who stood by the door of the shop.

Because of this glance, the middle-aged monk’s forehead sunk in with a soft pop.

The sound was small, but it sounded terrifying in on the morning streets.

The middle-aged monk’s pure land of lotus flowers had been ruined, and his dedication to Buddha destroyed. His Psyche Power had been blocked and reflected by the odd big black umbrella, breaking his brain!

The dazed middle-aged man looked at Ning Que in shock, angrily, and sadly. Blood flowed from the corners of his lips as his throat gurgled. He yelled with all his strength, "You are... you are the m..."

He was in a hurry to speak before his death but could only manage to say that.

Chen Pipi’s face was pale and he flicked his sleeves forcefully.

The skinny martial monk who had been blocking him bellowed. He pulled down on the sharp blade in his abdomen, and the blood that splattered out flew towards Chen Pipi as he tried to stop him again.

Chen Pipi had already been stopped by him once, and would not give him another chance after the shock. The Qi of Heaven and Earth began to brew, and it easily deflected the blood that was heading towards him. There was a tearing sound, and his sleeves were torn to shreds and flicking out like lightning. Then, they turned into a thread of catkin that tapped the lips of the middle-aged monk, forcing the words back into his throat.

Ning Que was even more certain that he must not allow the middle-aged monk to reveal his secret before his death. The Great Spirit exploded from his body and came to the other man. His hand cut down like a knife.

His palm had not made contact with the middle-aged monk’s neck.

But a thin red line appeared on the middle-aged monk’s neck.

The middle-aged monk’s head twisted and fell.

At that moment, when the cloth from Chen Pipi’s sleeves made a slithering sound and wrapped around that thin bloody line. It tied the middle-aged monk’s head that was about to fall tightly to his body.

The martial pale monk holding on to his intestines, turned around and squeezed through the crowds on the street.

Chen Pipi looked at the back of the martial monk silently, as if he was hesitating.

Ning Que glanced at Chen Pipi.

Chen Pipi looked at the sky.

All was calm on the streets of Chang’an. Some were selling buns, and children blew at their meat buns and took a bit carefully. They were both happy and regretful as they tasted the meat stuffs. They were happy that the stuffs tasted so good, but were regretful that they had reached the filling so quickly.

The middle-aged monk outside the bun shop sat down slowly. No one knew that he had died, and no one noticed that there was a monk who held on to his intestines walking away painfully in the crowd.

Ning Que took out his arrow box and began to assemble his bow and arrow quietly.

He aimed at the calm and happy street of Chang’an and shot a Primordial Thirteen Arrow.

The talisman arrow flew through the air. No one knew where it ended.

There were too many people on the street and he could not see if he had managed to shoot the fleeing martial monk.

Suddenly, there was a commotion at a spot further down. Someone yelled in fear, "Someone’s dead!"

Ning Que held his arrow box, carried his black umbrella and disappeared into a side alley with Chen Pipi.

The distant commotion quickly traveled to the bun shop.

The timid but curious children yelled in fear and called for their friends and run towards that direction.

A little boy who held a big meat bun accidentally knocked the middle-aged monk sitting outside the shop when he ran by. He dropped the meat bun from his hands.

The child looked at the bun rolling on the ground and was about to cry.

The middle-aged monk’s head fell off gently together with the strip of cloth tying it to his body. It rolled on the ground like another meat bun.

The child rubbed his eyes and began to cry loudly when he saw the monk’s head.

The calm and joyful atmosphere on the streets disappeared with the sound of crying.

After all, pure land was fake.

Reality was always much more sinister and dangerous.

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