Chapter 454: Unending Wind and Rain (5)

Chapter 454: Wind and Rain Unending (V)

Rain-soaked streets.

The four-armed evil god roared to the heavens, swinging the arm that held the human bone skull bowl, but only gouged a huge pit in the empty, deserted ground.

Li Jun, having sidestepped the blow, lunged in again, planted his foot on the opponent's wrist, leapt up, and drove a vicious knee strike into Mahakala's chest.

Bang!

A horrifying dent appeared on the evil god's chest, his body staggering backward.

Li Jun twisted with the motion, biting a mouthful of liver‑lung essence, his waist coiling like a dragon‑serpent, his right leg sweeping like a long spear across the evil god's head.

Pfft!

From the fang‑filled maw of the four‑armed Mahakala spurted fetid black blood, yet the sword‑wielding arm simultaneously swept toward Li Jun's falling body.

The fierce gust in the pouring rain was no longer invisible; splashing drops made Li Jun instinctively narrow his eyes.

Layers of rough, scale‑like patterns covered his fists, striking the crescent‑blade that arced sideways.

Clang!

As if metal on metal, Li Jun's body hit the ground, his feet sliding on the slick stone, carving a trench of churned mud and rock.

The evil god steadied himself again, the face Li Jun had kicked apart healing at visible speed.

Meanwhile, Bai Ma, perched atop the evil god's head, showed neither sorrow nor joy, looking down with half‑closed Buddha eyes, her gaze toward Li Jun full of mockery.

Li Jun lifted his eyelids, meeting the bodhisattva's Buddha gaze; his surging blood boiled to a peak in an instant, his scorching heat turning the cold rain into a drifting white mist.

Silent Official Technique, Sixth Layer!

List‑Cleaving Step!

Boom!

The street exploded into a three‑foot‑deep crater, the thunderous rain drowned out by the howl of his fists.

Li Jun's silhouette flashed before the evil god's ferocious visage, arms spread like two taut bows, already at full draw.

The next instant, the snap of tensing muscle sounded like a bowstring releasing; his fist shot forth like an arrow, a sky‑filling cascade of fist‑images pouring down.

The savage fist‑force washed over the raised Buddhist implement, swept past the evil god's towering frame, and brushed Bai Ma's temple hairs.

Thud! Thud! Thud.

Drum‑like impacts echoed without cease across the deserted street.

Skull bowl, crescent blade, trident.

Fang‑toothed teeth, bone rosary, tiger‑striped robe.

Whether swords, spears, blades, halberds, or flesh‑and‑blood monk's garb, all shattered into fragments in an instant.

The four‑armed Mahakala trembled incessantly, his low growls turning into wailing shrieks; horrifying depressions covered his entire upper torso, his bluish‑black flesh rotting beyond repair.

Eight‑Extremes Fist Force!

Tendon‑Splitting, Bone‑Misplacing!

See‑Dragon‑Doff‑Armor!

The four‑armed Mahakala flew like a shell ejected from a barrel, tumbling backward.

Li Jun, his lips parched from the scalding blood covering him, hesitated not a whit; he surged forward, appearing in a flash beside Bai Ma, his fingers hooked like claws, aiming for her face.

The four‑armed Mahakala was smashed by Li Jun into a puddle of mud, Bai Ma clearly not expecting this outcome.

At that moment, airborne and half‑turned, her expression was one of terror; she offered no reaction to the five fingers already before her eyes, as if she had abandoned resistance.

A blood‑stained palm covered her jade‑white face; her insubstantial form, like a torn rag, was snatched up by Li Jun with one arm and slammed hard to the ground.

Thud!

In the collapsed pit, Bai Ma's bones were shattered, her tendons torn, her body twisted at the bottom into a grotesque pose; where her head should be lay only a blot of glaring scarlet.

Li Jun stood at the pit's edge, his bare torso shrouded in mist, his strained muscles threaded with prominent veins; within those clear vessels a faint, almost inaudible whistle could be heard.

Rapid pounding of his heart made his eyes turn red; he licked his cracked lips and slowly crouched at the rim of the pit.

"This is your Buddha‑land; if you want to hide, I truly can't find you for a while. But once the outsiders break open this Buddha‑land, you won't be feigning death—you'll be truly dead."

Speaking to the corpse, Li Jun seemed mad.

The instant his words hit the ground, a black shadow as massive as a mountain loomed ghost‑like behind him.

Thud!

A colossal fist plunged wrist‑deep into the earth, cracks spreading two fingers wide, attesting to the immense force behind it.

Li Jun's figure appeared ten zhang away; he lifted his gaze to appraise the 'resurrected' Buddhist demon before him.

His hair flared like calamity fire, his brows blazed like flames, yet the features on his head were no longer the grotesque blue‑fanged visage but an exact replica of Bai Ma's face.

A familiar scene flashed, reminding Li Jun of the deceased Zhang Qinglü.

In the Yellow‑Millet dream, he too had once fused with a statue of the True Martial Emperor.

"Your tricks are all much the same,"

Li Jun said with contempt, smiling: "Really, there's nothing new about it."

"You are stronger than him."

The evil god spoke, his voice the calm, tranquil tone of Bai Ma.

No explanation needed; Li Jun instantly understood whom Bai Ma's 'he' referred to.

The lone martial cultivator who, according to Yuan Mingfei, died fighting at Sangyan Temple.

"We did not send him into reincarnation; we forgave his killing karma. Now he has taken refuge at the Buddha's feet, coupling night and day with the heavenly maiden, willingly offering himself to nurture the vessel capable of bearing the Buddha's descent."

Bai Ma slowly drew her fist from the earth, pressing her four palms together before her: "And this shall be your destined end."

"Nonsense."

The martial cultivator raised his brows, the evil god lowered his eyes.

Between them, the wind fell silent.

At this moment, both man and deity knew that words were empty; only blood could convince.

Why does Buddhism have dharma protectors? Because they too know that a blossoming lotus sometimes falls short of a wrathful vajra glare.

Without any omen, Li Jun and Bai Ma moved almost simultaneously.

The evil god's four arms tangled in dense golden Sanskrit, exuding an aura Li Jun loathed to the core, like a shifting mountain lunging forward.

This aversion did not stem from the martial cultivator's genes.

In the martial cultivator's instinct, the feeling toward the Buddhist sequence is pure contempt.

A reclining Buddha, a disrobed bodhisattva.

Even though the martial cultivator has declined today, Li Jun's first sight of Bai Ma still reminded him of a street‑walking courtesan soliciting clients in the Chicken‑Goose district.

For Li Jun, earning money this way is not shameful.

Yet he devours the fragrant hoard of the poor, yet he offers his mortal flesh as a sacrificial boon.

That is a damn pitiful sight!

Thud!

Two fists collided with no flourish!

Specks of shattered amber light drifted before Bai Ma's astonished gaze, while the other pair of eyes churned with a malignant hue, brimming with murderous intent!

Li Jun, the seer of the Five Gods, though not as towering as Bai Ma's four‑armed Great Black Heaven, possessed a formidable, awe‑inspiring bulk. He crossed his palms to deflect Bai Ma's blow, his feet weaving and shivering, then twisted his body, launching an elbow that slammed hard into Bai Ma's rear heart!

Yet to Li Jun's surprise, Bai Ma's form merely quivered slightly; the strike seemed to her nothing more than a gentle breeze, leaving no trace of harm.

Scrape!

A chill surged into his heart; Li Jun's sole thrusted back with sudden force, leaping two zhangs in a flash of lightning, narrowly evading Bai Ma's sweeping kick.

After widening the distance, Li Jun realized that the great moon hanging above his head seemed shrouded by clouds, its presence vanished.

The only light left along the entire Wenyang Long Street was the radiance emanating from Bai Ma's divine form, its Sanskrit script glowing.

Countless chanting voices swarmed from all sides, relentlessly pressing themselves into his mind.

Even stranger was the demon standing before him; its flesh roiled like boiling water, its blue‑black skin fading swiftly, replaced by pale, smooth skin.

A once‑massive muscular chest rose to a terrifying height, while the tiger‑skin robe draped around his waist slipped to the ground.

In the blink of an eye, the ferocious demon had become a beautiful nun.

The four arms still clasped before his body; Bai Ma's otherwise plain face now shone with unparalleled beauty, each frown and smile exuding a captivating allure.

Li Jun felt an uncontrollable heat surge from his lower abdomen, his clenched fists growing softer and weaker.

The color is a bone‑scraping steel blade.

“The body of Great Black Heaven, one of the forms you martial disciples once adored, its corresponding stage set upon the Buddha's lotus seat, watched by countless vengeful, fragrant slave spirits.”

Boom!

Within the unfinished words, the two bodies collided heavily, their four arms grappling fiercely.

Bai Ma gazed at Li Jun within arm's reach; his expression no longer cold and indifferent, but rippling with a thick, almost cloying charm, a sweet breath sprayed upon Li Jun's face.

“Don’t you wish to try?”

But her reply was a mouthful of bloodied phlegm.

“I’ve never played these empty games!”

The smile blooming on Bai Ma's face froze instantly, turning into endless, grim malevolence.

The once‑ethereal air turned into bone‑chilling cold, pressing madly from all directions upon Li Jun's body.

It felt as if he were sinking into an endless abyss, the immense pressure choking even his breath.

Pulling the martial disciples' consciousness into illusion, depriving them of their fleshly bodies, suppressing and weakening their minds.

Once a place of indulgence, now a ground of slaughter.

This is the greatest weapon of the Buddhist order against the martial order, the home‑field advantage of the earthly Buddhist realm!

“The reckless blaze just now, now that you refuse to surrender, I’ll douse you with a basin of water.”

Li Jun laughed, “You woman, you change your face so quickly!”

“Die!”

Bai Ma, a visage of mortified fury, hissed sharply, his two arms wrapping around Li Jun's wrists, the other two hands clasped into fists, and slammed down with a thud.

Li Jun lowered his head, bracing the blow with his spine, the ground beneath cracking inch by inch, crimson specks splattering onto the broken stone.

“So the level of the Four Great Black Heavens is just like this?”

In Bai Ma's stunned gaze, the martial man before him slowly raised his head, exhaling a breath of blood.

“Perhaps you still have other tricks up your sleeve, but this time I have matters elsewhere, so I won’t waste time with you.”

Circulating in Li Jun's mouth and nose, the essence of the dragon and tiger's liver and lungs suddenly turned from white to red.

A pungent bloodstained scent spread.

Bai Ma pursed his lips, silent, his clenched fists raised high, about to strike again.

Yet suddenly, a fierce pain surged into her heart.

The arms that once bound Li Jun snapped and fractured, white bone shards piercing flesh.

“By the way, a word of advice: when you come out selling, you insist on honesty, playing those close‑knit, flirtatious games is your professional code, no problem.”

Li Jun grinned, “But beyond that, never get too close to the martial man!”

The Five Gods of Insight, all five gathered!

The sealed official law, seventy percent!

Boom!

The knuckles of his fist struck Bai Ma's face, bright blood splashing from the impact, the collapsed cheekbone emitting a bone‑chilling crack.

The massive pendant at Bai Ma's chest swayed up and down; his body staggered backward, yet Li Jun stepped over his foot, his left foot kicking straight onto his knee.

With a crisp crack, Bai Ma instantly lost balance, tipping over.

Thump!

A downward punch, like a clashing bell, the terrifying force lifting Bai Ma's massive body, his feet off the ground!

“Ah!!”

Bai Ma, nearly fainted by the series of blows, finally snapped back to consciousness, emitting a shrill howl.

In an instant, the entire Wenyang Long Street ground trembled wildly, like a ground‑dragon turning over, cracking into deep, bottomless ravines.

Beyond this district, the scene froze like a painting, rigid and blurred into indistinct, multicolored swaths.

This is a sign that the Buddhist realm is about to shatter.

Realizing that he himself was a plaything, Bai Ma made a decisive gamble, abandoning the maintenance of the Buddhist realm, converting all causal power into the Buddha's voice of salvation and suffocating pressure, shrouding Li Jun.

Only in this way could he turn defeat into victory, perhaps even a glimmer of hope.

“Eighty percent!”

Thoughts still churned, but the two cold words that followed shattered all of Bai Ma's hopes.

Li Jun's silhouette, like a bone‑corroding demon, again occupied Bai Ma's sight; the fear etched in his genes made her instinctively lift her remaining arms.

Yet these movements were futile struggles at this moment.

Crack.

The resisting arms were broken by Li Jun's fierce, domineering fist; the exposed hands clasped two small forearms, pulling with force!

A strange ripping sound; Bai Ma's two arms were torn off, the blood spurted like a downpour, no less.

Li Jun casually discarded the remnants in his palm, moving his foot to slip behind Bai Ma.

His ten fingers like knives plunged into the scapulae, knees bent, back pressed, veins bulging, stance like a fiery horse's mane.

A sudden hiss!

All four arms of the white mare were torn asunder by Li Jun in a brutally savage manner, collapsing to the ground in despair.

"Though we have never met, today I present you with a single stick of incense!"

Li Jun's right hand, fingers splayed like a blade, swept down upon the white mare's throat.

The kneeling Buddha is the incense of reverence, the spattered crimson is drifting smoke.

A warrior respects a warrior.

To never bow, even unto death!

"What do you mean?"

On the street of Weiyang, Yang Gu ignores the surrounding brocade guards, his cold gaze fixed upon Fan Wujun.

Must my meaning be rendered?

Fan Wujun laughed coldly: "It is simple—either you stay quietly here, undisturbed, or you shall be challenged, and I shall drill you, these pampered Dao elders!"

You

Being affronted face‑to‑face by a petty soldier, Yang Gu had never suffered such insult; a dark fire rose in his heart.

The crowd behind him, the disciples of Longhu Mountain, wore displeasure; at that moment, the crimson glow of talismans illuminated Fan Wujun's eyes with a scarlet hue.

The scene snapped to a razor's edge, poised for clash.

The night‑shaman flicked his tongue over rain‑kissed lips, brushed his fingertip over the trigger, and felt the hilt of his blade beneath his palm.

Among the brocade guards, many moved thus.

This is the lesson given by Li Jun, a hundred‑household, to them; when they meet the new Dao school disciples, it is a single maxim: when the enemy retreats, we advance; when they advance, we delight. First pierce the belly, then strike the head.

Huh

At the moment when every nerve gathered into a single thread, about to snap.

A long, lingering exhalation suddenly rang out.

Cease!

The once silent Yang Long, suddenly his countenance shifted, he shouted in fury, "Put away the talismans! I command you to put away the talismans!"

Yang Gu was startled by the angry lion‑like Yang Long before him; before he could react, the man seized his collar and yanked him backward.

The bewildered Yang Gu was about to retort when he saw Yang Long clasp his hands and bow deeply toward the distance.

"Longhu Mountain Dao‑sequence Yang Long, before the King of Hell, a hundred‑household."

Among the brocade guards, a weary Li Jun stepped forward, rubbed his brow, and smiled, "Your Daoist reaction is rather swift, alas."

Pity? What pity?

Yang Gu stared blankly, when a sudden roar of Yang Long's wrath echoed in his ear.

"Of course it is a pity that your damned self did not act, did not give us the pretext to kill them all!"