Chapter 413: Fire of the Vermilion Bird, Burning and Destroying the Sea of Mind

Chapter 413: Vermilion Bird's Fire, Incinerating the Sea of Heart

At this moment, the city gates were already locked in battle.

Tang Buqi had arrived at the city walls, attacking three gates simultaneously with Xue Canghai and Wan Dongliu.

Before the world had formed a disparity in force where one could defeat ten thousand, armies remained the decisive factor. Zhao Changhe needed to block protectors like Fachi, and Tang Buqi likewise had to press hard to suppress the ten thousand monk soldiers within the city; otherwise, if overwhelmed by ten or twenty thousand devotees, no matter how many Heaven List or Earth List experts Zhao Changhe brought, they would only retreat—and if the Bodhisattva blocked them a few times, they might not even escape.

Similarly, the monk soldiers dared not let Tang Buqi's army breach the city; otherwise, whatever Maitreya or Bodhisattva, with "eight hundred thousand troops" pressing in, any demons or monsters would be crushed to death. So although Fazhen had not yet set up defenses before Tang Wanzhuang took his head, the various levels of believers defending the city spontaneously formed resistance.

But because there was no organization, no one could arrange to split forces to handle the situation inside the city; they only blindly held the city defenses, creating an extremely fragmented internal and external battlefield. Tang Wanzhuang's decapitation strike, aside from luring out Maitreya, had this great significance.

Those who would spontaneously hold this isolated city were all fanatics brainwashed to the extreme. As long as they had the blessing of invulnerability to weapons, they truly feared nothing.

Even though precedent proved that those thousand monk soldiers later became cripples, and ordinary believers' cultivation could not withstand the baptism of such "Buddhist dharma," it did not matter.

They were all true believers who had passed the Buddha's test; even if they died, they would surely enter the Vacuous Homeland.

The brainwashing of a cult could make people who usually seemed quite shrewd appear like lunatics in others' eyes. Zhao Changhe had seen many in the mortal world, including celebrities.

Yet faith could not be eaten as food. The generals and officers had all died cleanly in the council hall. What use was invulnerability against such disorganized resistance?

Tang Buqi had prepared for heavy casualties, but instead found it much easier than when he had received Zhu Huan in the early morning...

Back then, there were only a thousand monk soldiers, but they could form ranks and assault with discipline. Now, the city walls were glittering with golden invulnerable monk soldiers, but they were a chaotic mess fighting individually—no army, no formation, no tactics at all. In the eyes of a military commander, this was a dish served on a platter; individual troubles were no trouble.

Amid the earth-shaking war cries, scaling ladders were set against the walls with remarkable ease. The usual arrow volleys, rolling stones, falling logs, and poured oil were all absent, so comfortable that Tang Buqi thought he was fighting a sham battle...

Wu Weiyang, the great general of the Demon-Suppressing Bureau, armored and blade in hand, was the first to ascend the wall.

The chaotic monk soldiers on the wall seemed activated, shouting in unison as several monastic swords slashed at once.

Wu Weiyang was not eager to kill; he swept his long blade, pressing all the monastic swords aside.

The next moment, several soldiers ascended behind him, thrusting their spears together at the same monk soldier, producing a "clang."

Indeed, still unbreachable.

The soldiers were not flustered; they withdrew their spears, swung a rope noose, looped it around the monk soldier's head, and pulled him straight off the wall.

The remaining soldiers who had not yet ascended thrust their spears in a chaotic flurry, with "clinks and clangs," eventually stabbing the monk soldier into a honeycomb.

On Tang Buqi's side, they were methodically testing various tactics, while the Blood God Sect presented a different scene.

Here were all true martial arts masters!

Xue Canghai needed no scaling ladder; he stepped on blood without a trace and directly mounted the wall, then with a single "Deities and Buddhas Scatter," he diagonally cleaved three monk soldiers into six halves.

The surrounding monk soldiers stared in shock.

This saber technique—everyone had heard of it.

Could this man be the Blood Asura, Zhao Changhe?

Before they could react, several elders and protectors of the Blood God Sect leaped onto the wall, all executing the same "Deities and Buddhas Scatter."

For a moment, it was as if several blood-colored toads were hopping wildly on the wall, then blood splattered, and bodies were cut in two.

Where did so many Zhao Changhes come from?

"Leave some for us!" countless Blood God Sect disciples howled, scrambling up the ladders: "We couldn't break through with those we killed before; maybe these with special blessings can? Leave some for us..."

Even the fanatical monk soldiers could not help but feel a chill from this bunch of madmen.

Who the hell were the heretics here?

On Wan Dongliu's side, it seemed a synthesis of Xue Canghai's and Tang Buqi's methods. Their individual strength was high, and their organization and tactics were also excellent. The battle appeared unremarkable, but before anyone knew it, the city walls were densely covered with Canal Guild disciples.

Battle reports needed literary embellishment; the front lines did not.

For a moment, the other aristocratic families who had planned to watch from the sidelines could no longer sit still.

With these three forces breaching the city in an instant, what was left for them to do? They could not even claim any merit.

So someone rode up to Tang Buqi: "Young Master Tang, the Tang family soldiers labored through the early morning and now fight a hard battle—they are too weary... We should also contribute our strength..."

Tang Buqi thought to himself that although these fellows were somewhat... well, after the matter, unifying Jiangnan would still require some unity, and yielding credit was somewhat useful, so he nodded: "Then I thank Governor Zhang for sharing the burden."

Governor Zhang thought that Tang Buqi was quite diplomatic, and fearing he might change his mind, he hastily led his troops to attack the wall.

But just a few breaths after they engaged, the situation suddenly changed.

The originally golden-glowing monk soldiers had their golden light turn into black qi without warning.

And originally, they had only received "Buddhist dharma blessings," still possessing thoughts, able to grumble about where so many Zhao Changhes came from... but at this moment, their eyes became vacant, looking like a group of mindless corpses.

Cui Wenjing and Yang Jingxiu had once said during the autopsy that this blessing had no more tricks... That judgment was both right and wrong.

In terms of purely Buddhist dharma blessings, indeed that was all there was. But when the Bodhisattva's own nature began to change, the nature of the blessing naturally changed as well.

Governor Zhang's men tried to imitate Tang Buqi's method of using nooses to pull the monk soldiers down, but as the rope reached the monk soldier's neck, it suddenly turned to ash inch by inch.

From defense to... corrosion?

The next moment, the monk soldier pushed his left hand, striking the soldier's breastplate.

Striking a breastplate with a bare hand would have little effect even for a martial arts master... but with this strike, a strange death qi penetrated the armor, the soldier's heart stopped, and he fell stiffly from the wall.

Both on and off the wall, there was horror.

The thick death qi could be felt even from the central army... Though in the midst of a battlefield brimming with life force, it felt like stepping into a graveyard abandoned for a thousand years.

At the West Gate, Xue Canghai's voice spread across the battlefield: "All below the third level of the Mystic Barrier, retreat immediately one li away! Those above the third level, protect your heart meridian with inner force!"

The third level of the Mystic Barrier...

Do not think that Zhao Changhe now meets only those starting at the ninth level wherever he goes; in reality, martial artists below the third level of the Mystic Barrier are still the mainstream of the world. Those at the third or fourth level are usually significant leaders—how many could there be?

Tang Buqi ordered the soldiers to retreat, and a thought suddenly crossed his mind.

This might be the first time in this world that "numbers are useless," perhaps signifying a very critical turning point, from which the conventional thinking of the world might change.

...

Meanwhile, the battle between Tang Wanzhuang and the Vermilion Bird against Maitreya also reached its conclusion.

Multiple battlefields were unfolding simultaneously, and in total, not many moves had been exchanged.

Maitreya had been fighting and retreating, trying to get back into the secret realm. He did not know why the Bodhisattva dared not reveal its power in the mortal world; only within their "Vacuous Homeland" could he truly unleash his full strength.

Unlike now, where he thought he had been boosted to Heaven List level, yet could only barely save his life.

Not to mention dealing with a pincer attack; in fact, even if it were only the Vermilion Bird alone, he could not defeat her. Under equal cultivation, everyone's actual combat ability varied; otherwise, why would there be rankings?

But Maitreya still had his own schemes.

The greatest difference between the third and second secret treasures lay mainly in the full development of the spiritual sea—that is, the comprehensive application of mysteries like "divine sense" and "mind."

In the conventional understanding of the Vermilion Bird and Tang Wanzhuang, Maitreya could do these things but not to that level. Just as Zhao Changhe could simply use the soul-capturing technique of Maitreya's sect, but only barely on opponents of lower cultivation; essentially, he had not mastered or developed these arts.

But in reality, the Maitreya who had received the blessing was boosted not only in power.

He could truly capture souls.

Of course, he could not directly manipulate them—these two women were no pushovers. Only through a sudden attack in the midst of his continuous retreat and desperate situation could he possibly achieve some effect.

And he planned to use it on the Vermilion Bird, who had higher cultivation.

He had tried it on Tang Wanzhuang before, but it was like a mud ox entering the sea—no effect at all. Besides the fact that Tang Wanzhuang's spirit was actually at the level of the third secret treasure, the more important reason was that her heart technique was like the moon reflecting on water, her mind as clear as ice; she had always been the most stable in dealing with such matters.

But the Vermilion Bird was different... The Vermilion Bird practiced a violently explosive fire cultivation, which made her relatively susceptible to mental influence.

He didn't seek to control her, only to shake her mind slightly—that would be his chance to turn defeat into victory, or at least to escape!

His plan was well-conceived, but his actual strength didn't allow him to lay out a slow scheme. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than his palm clashed with the Vermilion Bird's. The raging, unmatched fire-attributed true qi surged through his veins, burning them, jolting Maitreya so hard he nearly spat blood.

Behind him, Tang Wanzhuang pressed relentlessly, her sword aimed straight for his back.

Maitreya had no time left for slow playacting. He jerked his head up.

Ripples shimmered in his eyes, meeting the Vermilion Bird's gaze.

The Vermilion Bird seemed to freeze for a moment; the cold killing intent in her eyes bypassed Maitreya and fixed on Tang Wanzhuang behind him.

Maitreya was ecstatic—his judgment was correct! Tang Wanzhuang and the Vermilion Bird were originally enemies. By stirring up the hatred and fury in her heart toward Tang Wanzhuang, he had succeeded on the first try! Bracing himself to take Tang Wanzhuang's sword, he fully activated his Soul-Stealing Art, trying to make the Vermilion Bird's next strike hit Tang Wanzhuang instead.

But the moment he spurred the art, he saw the Vermilion Bird's red lips curl into a smile beneath her half-mask.

Maitreya's heart skipped a beat.

The next instant, his spiritual platform burned like fire, as if a flame of the mind had risen directly from his heart; in that instant, his sea of soul turned entirely to blazing fire.

At the same time, Tang Wanzhuang's sword pierced his heart.

The air seemed to freeze.

Maitreya looked down at the sword tip protruding from his chest, then raised his head to glance at the unruffled Vermilion Bird. He wanted to say something but couldn't—he had lost the ability to speak; his entire spiritual platform was a raging inferno, his soul scorched, powerless for words.

But the Vermilion Bird seemed to know what he wanted to say, and told him considerately, "I'm not like some women who just close off their spiritual platform and wait for someone to pry it open. Whoever invades my heart will suffer the backlash of the Heart Flame. With your meager cultivation, do you think you're worthy?"

Maitreya couldn't utter a single word; the light of life in his eyes slowly dimmed.

Unwilling...

The secret realm was not far away—just a few li. In the past, it would have taken only a few breaths, but now it was like an impassable chasm.

The hegemony of Jiangnan, countless beauties—all turned to nothing...

Tang Wanzhuang was saying to the Vermilion Bird, "Why waste words with him? Go support the secret realm quickly."

The Vermilion Bird was about to retort, "Beg me again," but before the words left her mouth, her expression suddenly changed.

The aura of the distant secret realm underwent a bizarre shift, and even Maitreya, who stood before them with his head drooping, not yet fallen, began to mutate.

His head hung on his chest; a lump of flesh on his originally fat nape grew more and more prominent, swelling larger and larger. His body hunched forward, and it seemed as if another head was sprouting from the back of his neck, while the original head became like something cradled against his chest—so grotesque that he no longer resembled a human at all.