Chapter 535: Few Are Awake, Many Are Foolish (4)

Chapter 535: The Awakened Are Few, the Foolish Many (IV)

The unceasing chanting of scriptures lingered atop Lion Mountain, its green Daoist characters intertwining in projections, draped across the golden glazed tiles. The cold wind stirred the prayer flags, and the night rain pattered against the wind chimes, every blade of grass and tree exuding an ineffable Daoist aura.

The only blemish was the collapsed mountain gate, its black-background gold-lettered plaque askew in a pile of rubble, as if a lonely tomb had been erected for an unknown soul.

Thud!

A colossal foot crushed the "tomb mound," and a massive black shadow filled the void left by the gate's collapse.

The warrior, over a zhang tall, clad in a dazzling armor of scale and plate, wielded a giant hammer. His very landing shook the earth, accompanied by a thunderous momentum that surged toward the mountain path leading to the Daoist temple.

"Who dares trespass upon my Tea Mountain Cloud-Viewing Temple?"

Li Jun lifted his gaze, a smile tugging at his lips.

He had not faced such a fool in some time, and for no reason at all, he felt a pang of nostalgia.

The warrior pressed forward, while the martial artist climbed the steps to meet him. Their figures collided in the blink of an eye.

The golden hammer whirled into a blinding arc, sweeping horizontally before them, yet the target vanished, scattering only raindrops.

This Yellow Banner warrior, transformed by military order, clearly possessed not low intelligence. Upon the missed strike, he did not panic; instead, his head split open on all sides, revealing a mechanical eye that swiftly grasped Li Jun's fleeting form from behind.

Clang!

The sound rang out, the warrior's wrist twisted like a boneless serpent, redirecting the hammer's shaft to thrust at Li Jun's face.

Crack.

Amid the metallic fracture, Li Jun kicked the warrior's ankle, sending him sprawling before the mountain gate. The impaling hammer veered wildly, grazing Li Jun's ear by a hair's breadth.

Li Jun's right hand clenched into a blade-like claw, its edge sharp as a razor, aiming to sever the warrior's neck.

At that moment, a series of whooshing sounds erupted within the temple.

Talismans rained down, their activated forms radiating multicolored glows, blurring into a haze in the rain.

"Troublesome."

Li Jun's palm shifted into claws, seizing the warrior's chestplate and hurling him skyward, obliterating the incoming talismans in a burst of explosions.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The sharpness of the golden talismans, the heaviness of the earth talismans, the fury of the fire talismans.

The successive blasts reduced the temple gate, already breached, along with walls on both sides, to utter ruin.

After a somersault, the warrior pinned to the ground presented a pitiful sight—his ornate yet impractical armor in tatters, his exposed mechanical heart etched with green Daoist characters, like a web draped over it.

Thud... Thud...

The mechanical heart beat like war drums on a sandy field, each pulse faster than the last, its crimson threads spreading, nearing a critical threshold.

"Still overclocking? This Tea Mountain truly has its ways."

Li Jun's gaze traced the armor's seams, thoughtful. He nodded slightly, then stepped down with effortless grace.

The warrior, struggling to rise and continue his demon-slaying, plummeted suddenly, his body sinking deep into the earth as Li Jun crushed the throbbing heart with a kick.

Li Jun swept his leg, sending the warrior's massive form flying into the temple like a cannonball, reducing a side hall to rubble.

The thunderous collapse sent shivers down the spine, yet the maddening hum persisted, talismans endlessly activated, their presence formidable.

Li Jun's tiger-like eyes narrowed, a pressure from his innate divine genes surged forth, silencing a gasp and causing the floating talismans to tremble before plummeting with the raindrops.

Fourth-grade inner energy, Zhen Lu!

The cacophony of the temple gave way to brief calm.

"Old Master Yan, I never expected we'd meet here tonight. Truly, the world is unpredictable."

The voice echoed from the temple's depths as Li Jun strode in, finding Liu Tu seated on the grand main hall's knee-high steps, his face bearing a faint smile.

Flanking him were two figures—one was Guo Qiu, the Tea Mountain Daoist order member Li Jun had encountered below the mountain, the other a black-robed elder of unfamiliar visage.

Both Guo Qiu and the black-robed elder evoked in Li Jun an intense revulsion, their aura reminiscent of the Yellow Banner warrior he had crushed.

Confucian sect insignia.

Li Jun arched an eyebrow, smiling: "You dare mark Tea Mountain's people with Confucian insignia, Liu Tu. Do you not fear the Daoist masters descending to demand your life?"

"When the immortals descend, they may no longer be immortal. Moreover, the Confucian classics hold no 'god' character; without reading, there is no belief."

Even now, Liu Tu retained his serene demeanor, sitting leisurely on the temple steps, his gaze curiously fixed on Li Jun.

"A person's choice in moments of decision stems from two reasons: one is practical interest, the other moral passion."

Liu Tu asked aloud: "Li Jun, why did you ascend Lion Mountain tonight instead of going to the Middle Court? What reason drove you?"

Li Jun seemed in no hurry to strike, kicking up his robe's hem and tucking the front into his waist, then sitting cross-legged on a protruding boulder.

"You don't understand?"

"I don't understand."

Liu Tu shook his head, candidly: "I anticipated Liu Dian would act first, driven by impatience. I also considered Liu Xianzhou might betray me for greater gain, selling me to the Zhang family. I even calculated that Guo Qiu would raise his price, demanding the Huangliang authority. Thus, here tonight, I sought not only shelter but to wait for the rabbit, seeing who would leap into my trap."

"You alone, indeed, surprised me."

Liu Tu asked sincerely: "What is it that stirs your desire to kill me? Was it that waste, Gu Xi, who slipped up? Or did Liu Dian offer a price you couldn't refuse?"

"Not as complicated as you think."

Their heartfelt exchange earned only Li Jun's contemptuous reply.

"Simple. From the start, I never intended to spare you. I suppose you felt the same."

Liu Tu neither confirmed nor denied, pressing on: "Then why was your first target not Liu Dian, your sworn enemy, nor Liu Xianzhou, whom you promised the bright ghosts to kill, but me instead?"

Li Jun spoke calmly: "Because you irritate me most."

"Irritate? For mere likes and dislikes, you'd kill me? Absurd."

Liu Tu shook his head, smiling wryly, clearly unable to accept this reason.

"You Confucians rely on this."

Li Jun pointed to his temple, then to his chest: "We martial artists look here."

"Never thought you were such a brainless brute." Liu Tu sneered.

"Schemes and tricks aren't wisdom; acting from the heart isn't stupidity."

Li Jun smiled: "Killing hinges on the outcome, not the process. Since we're destined to kill each other, why not start with the one I most wish to slay?"

"You and I, life and death? On what grounds?"

On the steps, Liu Tu's expression turned proud, his tone disdainful.

"Why do you all refuse to believe I can overturn the table until you see my coffin? Is it unwillingness, or unwillingness to accept?"

Liu Tu let out a cold snort, his false Confucian composure crumbling as he snarled: "Mud-legged wretch!"

"Well said. Tonight is the Zhongyuan Festival; let us see which of us, the mud-legged and the false sage, becomes a wandering ghost."

Li Jun rose, propping on his knees, the ancient gold-plated armor with engraved mountain motifs emerging from his spine, coiling around his wrists and shoulders. His crimson single eye materialized at his brow, and a silver-white spear materialized in his hand.

An unstoppable sharpness surged skyward, as if a forest of blades and spears had risen from nothingness.

An elderly man, gripping a thick, heavy sword, seemed to possess a certain wisdom. His drooping head slowly lifted, and within the deep, ink-black eyes, the character ‘Liu’ emerged with a striking clarity.

“Liu Tzu.”

Li Qing didn’t rush to act; instead, he shouted, “I waited half a day for you. Are you asking me a question?”

Liu Tzu’s face turned a shade darker. “Yes.”

“Where is Liu Tzu?”

“You don’t know?”

Liu Tzu’s expression grew even more gloomy. “How could you find me here without knowing his location?”

Without waiting for an answer, his gaze settled upon the cloaked figure, and his eyes revealed a startling truth: “It was him.”

“Just like the way the clouds never guessed he’d chosen to surrender to your Liu family’s edicts.”

Li Qing muttered in awe, “He’s been practicing a technique even the Heavenly Gate couldn’t foresee—he’s been training under the shadow of the Dragon Sage!”

Li Qing exclaimed, “The Sage of the Eastern Gate once said, ‘The storm always finds its path.’”

“Liu Tzu now stands beneath the Lion Mountain, and his uncle, who once shared a spirit with him, speaks of his voice.”

Liu Tzu smiled faintly. “If you survive the descent, you’ll have to stop him.”

Long laughter echoed, shaking the air. The clash of blades rang out, not just with thunderous force, but with the swirling mist of rain, each strike sending ripples across the battlefield.

As soon as the swords met, Li Qing sensed something different in the other’s power. A surge of immense energy surged along the blade, colliding with the sharpness of Liu Tzu’s own blade in a clash as fierce as a storm.

It was undeniable—this was more than mere combat.

Yet, despite Liu Tzu’s formidable strength, it was clear that Li Qing’s own blade was no match. Within an instant, the force of his assault pushed her back, and she barely managed to break free, her hands grasping the long, heavy sword, her breath ragged.

A bolt of lightning struck him, and the sword tore through the air, crashing into the figure’s skull with a thunderous crash.

He staggered, his vision blurring, but his resolve unbroken.

“You’re going to die,” he thought, panic rising.

But then, a sudden movement—his hand closed around the hilt of the sword, and with a decisive strike, he flung it aside.

The clash of steel and will was relentless.

In that moment, the heavens themselves seemed to tremble.

Li Qing, sensing the shift, lunged forward, her fists a blur, driving into the heart of the adversary.

Yet, just as he thought he had the upper hand, a deafening roar echoed—the voice of the Dragon Sage.

With a roar, he lunged, his body a whirlwind of power, his sword slicing through the air like a comet, tearing through the heavens themselves.

Li Qing staggered, the ground cracking beneath him. The roar of the storm swallowed his cries.

But then, from the chaos, a figure emerged—his cloak billowing, his eyes burning with ancient wisdom.

“You’ve come far,” he said, his voice a calm tide. “But the storm is always near.”

And with that, the battle reached its climax.