Chapter 45: Too Late!

Chapter 45: Too Late!

【Baji Quan (Eighth-Grade Combat Martial Art) Learning Complete】

【Golden Bell Shield (Eighth-Grade Body Tempering Martial Art) Learning Complete, replaced Iron Cloth Shirt (Ninth-Grade Perfection)】

【Golden Bell Shield raised to Eighth-Grade Mid-Stage 0/100】

【Obtained 150 Mastery Points (Sequence Ascension Acquisition)】

【Consumed 100 Mastery Points, Baji Quan raised to Eighth-Grade Mid-Stage (0/100)】

..............

【Sequence】: Martial Dao Sequence Eight — Red Blooded One

【Combat】: Single Saber Method (Ninth-Grade Perfection), Baji Quan (Eighth-Grade Mid-Stage 0/100)

【Movement】: Baguazhang Swimming Body Step (Ninth-Grade Perfection)

【Body Tempering】: Golden Bell Shield (Eighth-Grade Mid-Stage 0/100)

【Internal Art】: Azure Emperor Canon (Eighth-Grade Perfection)

【Mastery Points】: 52

................

Dense as a waterfall, the information scrolled slowly before his retinas.

The droning tremor of genetic upheaval had ceased, yet the joy of fleshly evolution persisted.

Li Jun listened to the drum-like heartbeat and the whistling rush of blood within his body, a faint smile playing on his lips.

At this moment, he felt an unprecedented lightness, as if the thousand-catty burden on his shoulders had finally been cast off. The resentment and rage belonging to the violent thug in his heart faded, replaced by a jubilation of flesh and blood.

"Using your bones as filler for the Dharma Protector's mechanism bones, the resulting Dharma Protector God would surely be even more perfect."

A cold voice rang out.

Behind the Red Monk Mocuo, the Buddhist halo spun without cease; his body rose, floating three feet off the ground, sitting in a lotus position.

Gazing at the mechanical prosthetics exposed beneath the other's tattered monk robes, Li Jun's eyes revealed deep disgust.

"Finally getting a moment to enjoy some relaxation, can you fucking not interrupt?!"

"Clamor."

The Red Monk Mocuo bent his arms before his chest, forming the Fearless Mudra. The several firearms scattered beside him inexplicably floated up, muzzles trained on Li Jun.

"Fuck!"

Every hair on Li Jun's body stood on end. Though he could clearly sense the strengthening of his physique, he wasn't crazy enough to use his body to catch bullets.

He crouched and snatched up the corpse of the Dharma Protector God on the ground, hoisting it before him as a shield.

Amidst a torrential rain of gunfire, hundreds of bullets slammed into the mechanical body, bursting into sparks.

Mocuo flipped his palm again, and a five-meter-long iron dragon slowly rose. Then, an arm-length rocket flew from the incomplete corpse, inserting itself into the dragon's mouth.

Those wastes at Tianfu Heavy Industry, how could such firepower collapse so badly?

Li Jun cursed incessantly in his heart. He drew the long saber embedded in the Dharma Protector's brow, lifted his leg, and kicked the corpse toward the dragon's maw.

Boom!

Amidst the deafening explosion, the spreading shockwave rolled up tongues of flame. Shattered mechanical components shot out in all directions.

Suddenly, a black figure crashed out of the smoke and dust, closing the distance to the red robe in two steps. The long saber hacked down toward that wisdom-root mark.

Screech!!

A tooth-aching sound of metal grinding metal rang out. Several firearms overlapped, blocking the blade's edge.

Blue veins bulged at Li Jun's temples. He exhaled and voiced power, the surging thousand-catty force within him pressing down on the long saber, the blade inching forward.

"Flesh is just troublesome."

Mocuo frowned tightly. He pressed his palms together before his chest. In the next instant, the surrounding firearms that had dared not fire began to twist and deform. Muzzles compressed into sharp protrusions, shooting toward Li Jun like long spears.

The sharp sound of tearing air reached his ears. Li Jun's eyes held not a shred of evasion, only growing fiercer. He chopped down with another ruthless slash!

Clang! Crackle!

Two distinctly different sounds rang out in succession.

The long saber snapped from the middle; the rebounding broken blade grazed a line of blood across Li Jun's cheek.

Two rows of precept scars atop Mocuo's head suddenly erupted with a cluster of electric arcs. The flying firearms instantly lost control, clattering to the ground in a heap.

The sudden mutation stunned both Li Jun and Mocuo simultaneously. Four eyes met, each seeing shock and bewilderment in the other's gaze.

Crackle. Burning wood in the distance burst with a loud report.

The two, frozen in stupor, moved in perfect sync—one advancing, one retreating, utterly different.

Mocuo's face was now livid. His floating body retreated violently, while his hands rapidly formed complex Buddhist mudras, querying the malfunction appearing in his brain-machine interface.

Li Jun, however, revealed a ruthless, savage grin. He stepped forward, charging like a galloping horse.

No saber? I have an even more ferocious fist!

Mocuo's mental self-check was only halfway done when a black shadow, radiating a violent aura, pressed before him.

Li Jun's leg muscles tensed. His trailing left foot stomped hard, while his leading right foot suddenly stomped down. Within a square inch, power poured forth; his right elbow shot forward like an iron cavalry charging out of formation.

Eighth-Grade Martial Art, Crown-Piercing Elbow!

Mocuo let out a piercing shriek. He could no longer care about the brain-machine interface atop his skull, mobilizing every ounce of spiritual force to surge toward the wisdom root at his brow.

Though amplified by the wisdom root, this hastily formed spiritual barrier was still far too thin, utterly unable to block this Crown-Piercing Elbow.

Thump!

An invisible ripple spread before Mocuo's chest. White synthetic blood sprayed from his mouth and nose. His whole body smashed into the ruins like a cannonball, the Buddhist halo behind his head scattering across the ground.

His body forced out of Vajra transformation, reverting to its original state, Mocuo leaned against a half-collapsed wall. His eyes were filled with regret and remorse, and a few strands of deeply hidden fear.

His Yellow Beam Buddha Kingdom mainframe was already destroyed; he could no longer imprint memories through the Yellow Beam Buddha Kingdom to achieve nirvana and rebirth.

If he died now, he would truly be dead.

Watching Li Jun close in step by step, Mocuo could no longer suppress the fear in his heart. He reached into the cavity sliding open at his abdomen, grabbed a yellow silk scroll, and threw it over.

"I give you the Chongzhen Imperial Edict, let me go!"

A miserable roar mixed with blood sprayed out.

Li Jun looked at Mocuo, face covered in blood, utterly wretched. A sentence suddenly flashed in his mind.

"Big snot flowing into your mouth, you know to swallow it now? Too late!"

Watching the fist smashing down from above his head, Mocuo's eyes went blank.

Dharma Protector, Attendant Monk, Yellow Beam Buddha Kingdom—the Buddhist three great treasures, all gone. Even his brain-machine interface had malfunctioned.

Though he was a Buddhist Eighth-Rank Bhikkhu, at this moment, he didn't know what else he could do.

"Tianfu Heavy Industry, even if I fall into the cycle of reincarnation, I will not let you off!"

Bang!

Mu Cuo’s head slammed brutally into the ground, then rebounded high, only to be driven back into the mud beneath a boot, ground into pulp.

[Proficiency Points acquired: 200.]

[Current Proficiency Points remaining: 252.]

........

Meanwhile, several kilometers east of Songpan Guard.

Wu Shihu, fleeing for his life, froze suddenly; sensing something, he glanced back the way he had come.

"That monk is dead?!"

"Beaten like that and you still don't run? What are you thinking about?"

A mocking voice drifted on the night wind.

Wu Shihu stared, dumbfounded, at the mass of figures that had materialized before him; the moment he spotted the Shudao Logistics insignia on their collars, he instantly adopted a defensive stance.

"Enough. A soldier like you, who clawed his way up through connections—don't embarrass yourself in front of me."

The crowd parted, and Gu Jia emerged with hands clasped behind his back, walking slowly.

Wu Shihu growled like a trapped beast, "What do you want!"

"What do we want? Why, to save you, of course," Gu Jia half-narrowed his eyes, tilting his chin up. "Send a message to that old dog Wu. Tell him the imperial edict is in your hands, and have him dispatch reinforcements immediately."

"Huh?" Wu Shihu's face was a mask of bewilderment.

Gu Jia raised his coarse, stubby hand and patted the other man's cheek, wearing an expression of exasperated disappointment.

"Besiege the point to strike the relief force—ever heard of that? We're all from the Confucian aristocratic clans; your stupidity brings shame on us all!"