Chapter 84: Demon Lord

Chapter 84: The Demon Master

The Mingyi Bar, deep in the Fifth Street.

Songs are sung, dances are danced.

Those around who vent their desires, human or otherwise, pay no mind to the skeletal armor lying face-up on the bar.

The armor lies in a "cross" shape, its hollow helmet stuffed to the brim with wine bottles, its overall form resembling a sculptural work from the Pioneer Art of the Martial Emperor era.

At that moment, the music playing in the bar suddenly crackles with static, as if disrupted by some electronic signal.

The armor's fingers twitch slightly, and a faint red glow emanates from the vertical eye within the helmet.

A muffled voice emerges from within.

"Hey, slow down, sister. Why do I smell the stench of the Yellow Liang Buddha Country?"

The celestial song of the Heavenly Woman and the sound of the bronze lock clashing collide, sparks unseen igniting in the sky above the Golden Brick Square.

"The sound of breaking locks, the eighth summit at its peak?"

In Muru Chi's shocked gaze, Li Jun's scarred body suddenly flares with a waning wild aura, surging upward.

Wrath, greed, folly, arrogance.

Though these four reflections of Li Jun's dark illusions have left him riddled with wounds, they seem to have also pushed forward the process of his "breaking the lock and ascending the sequence."

"This is the knowing obstacle, followed by breaking the obstacle?!"

Murchi's face twists into an ugly grimace, a strange feeling creeping into his heart.

He feels like the demon subdued in those shadowy plays preaching Buddhist doctrine, while Li Jun is the Buddha who has endured trials and transformed.

"I..."

This white dragon temple's dread monk Bhikkhu wants to curse, but the precepts loaded into his cranial chip forcibly cut off his words.

He suddenly regrets sitting at the final layer of the illusion.

He had thought he could beat a drowning dog, but instead he's run into a fighting lion and a bear, killing the descending tiger just as it was getting excited.

But Muru Chi has no choice, for the "Yellow Liang Host" he brought can only sustain five layers of illusion.

If he chooses to stay on the sidelines, he can only watch Li Jun escape from the Buddha Country.

If he returns to reality, he doesn't believe he can face a martial artist of the same sequence alone.

The malice in Li Jun's eyes grows thicker, his ferocious expression like that of a demon lord invading this Buddha Country.

With a leap, he moves like a tiger pouncing, vaulting over the chasm between him and Muru Chi, his hands already rising, fists like claws, his momentum stomping the Buddha Mountain.

Thud!

Muru Chi dares not dwell on the tangled thoughts in his heart; the Vajra staff in his hand slams down, and his already massive frame swells another circle, reaching seven feet.

Cracked skin reveals mechanical structures engraved with Sanskrit characters, torn robes billowing as Buddhist thoughts spill from his brain-machine, coiling into a circle of crimson prayer wheels behind him.

At the same time, metallic wires etched with Vajra-subduing-demon patterns begin to glow.

The synthetic face splits open to either side, revealing a cold, vicious visage.

The transformed Muru Chi wields the Vajra staff in a horizontal sweep before his chest, the wind howling with fierce momentum.

Bang!

A fist of flesh and blood collides with the Vajra staff. Li Jun's left hand bones burst open, exposing white bones riddled with cracks.

Flesh rotting, bones splitting—such excruciating pain would send an ordinary person into immediate unconsciousness.

Yet Li Jun's expression remains as indifferent as ever. His right hand curls into a fist, his middle finger jutting out as he strikes Muru Chi's heart.

The fist releases ripples across its skin like water waves.

Substance-like force surges from his waist, up his elbows to his wrists, converging on the jagged knuckles.

Martial arts?!

Muru Chi's face changes drastically; he hastily retreats.

Splash!

The fist grazes Muru Chi's waist, slicing off a large chunk of flesh and tearing out numerous precision parts, clattering to the ground.

Only now does Li Jun unleash the special effect born after the Bagua Palm's full circle.

The Buddha Body is damaged, and the sky of this Buddha Country darkens slightly.

Having walked the edge of reincarnation and nirvana, Muru Chi finally understands the gap between his Vajra form and Li Jun.

He dares not let Li Jun close in; a Vajra staff nearly swings out phantom shadows, barely keeping some distance, his left hand quickly forming the Fearless Seal.

"Subhuti, and the monks of the mechanical order, the dread monks, all the heavenly beings, asuras of the Yellow Liang Buddha Country—those who hear the Buddha's words shall rejoice, believe, and follow."

An invisible wave carries forth Buddhist chants spreading from Muru Chi's cranial brain-machine, amplified by the prayer wheels behind him, surging toward Li Jun like a tide.

The wave strikes him, and Li Jun's skin suddenly flares with a sharp pain.

But it's only pain.

This transformative Buddhist thought, upon touching his skin, acts like an electric current hitting an insulating protective suit, vanishing in an instant.

As for the chanting sounds entering his ears, Li Jun doesn't understand them at first.

Just as his subconscious prepares to ponder further, the clanging of bronze locks roaming in his blood scatters the thoughts clean.

This near-immunity defense is the effect of the Jinzhongzhao and Qingdi Jue transformed into techniques.

"Thinking you can transform me just by hanging a loudspeaker on your head? Big voice, what use is it?!"

Li Jun sneers, his arm muscles suddenly bulging as he charges through the gap in the Vajra staff's swing, his elbow thrusting like a spear, smashing into Muru Chi's left hand gripping the Fearless Seal.

Slap!

Muru Chi doesn't have time to tend to his left hand twisted into a tangled rope; he hastily pulls back the Vajra staff, holding it sideways to block Li Jun's fist.

Fist meets staff, like a great bell tolling beside the monk's ear, sparks erupting from his ears.

The chanting stops abruptly.

A fist silences the sound, and the bare-chested martial artist, gaining the upper hand, unleashes the Bagua Palm's flow like a storm drenching the monk.

In an instant, Muru Chi's metallic wails echo endlessly, his chest bones nearly shattered.

Were it not for his desperate protection of his skull, his brain-machine would have been dismantled long ago.

The muffled thuds continue, the Buddha Country's sky above his head darkening.

At this moment, a fear engraved in his genes sweeps over Muru Chi's heart.

He feels this scene is eerily familiar, as if he had fought someone like Li Jun countless times in his reincarnations and nirvanas.

And almost every time, the result was death and annihilation.

This time is likely no exception.

Muru Chi panics, though he has a backup in the Buddha Country host of Baima Temple and won't truly die.

But after nirvana in the Buddha Country, if the backup replaces "Muru Chi" as his dharma name, would he still be himself?

Is the white horse a horse, or not a horse?

On the brink of death, Mu Chi finally erupted with rare ferocity. His right hand's Vajra pestle clanged to the ground, his five fingers suddenly grasping the incoming fist.

The wires forming the Vajra subduing demons diagram on his left arm suddenly flowed with blood, radiant light converging along the arm to his wrist.

His wrist flipped, revealing a chilling aperture nearly thrust before Li Jun's face!

"What the hell, another cannon?!"

Li Jun's entire body bristled with sweat, barely hesitating, his right hand's five fingers pressing against the cannon's muzzle.

Bang!

A thunderous roar, a blinding white light flashed and vanished.

Li Jun blocked Mu Chi's desperate strike at the cost of a palm.

Pfft!

A hand knife, carrying surging ripples of energy, pierced the monk's chest, tearing through various biological or mechanical constructs, almost plunging halfway into his arm, seizing that trembling spine!

Light and shadow suddenly shifted, daylight turned to night, golden bricks turned to mud, Buddhist chants into human voices.

When Li Jun opened his eyes again, before him flickered neon-lit, alcohol-perfumed mundane streets.