I built the Jade Capital with the Netherworld

Chapter 198 Is she pregnant?
Standing in front of the West Altar Gate, I reached out to touch it, and Sanskrit characters appeared, coiled like dragons and snakes around my five fingers.

Lu Wujiu glanced at it, but his gaze pierced through it and landed behind the altar gate.

Behind the door, there was still the familiar lotus seat, but now a stone statue sat on it.

A stone statue of a Luohan (Buddhist monk).

He had a thin face, high eyebrows, half-closed eyes, and a smile on his lips, much like the smile of someone who had frozen to death.

died?

Lu Wujiu frowned slightly... According to the Flesh and Blood Guanyin Miaolian, the mandala realm had not perished; it might have fallen into a state of suspended animation.

He stared silently for a long time before gently pushing, his figure moving like a phantom as he passed through the altar gate.

As time and space shifted, a completely new world unfolded before him.

Although all the mandalas looked much the same, he couldn't help but frown, sensing the difference between them.

In this pure realm of the mandala, he could not sense any primordial energy; the space-time was so dry it was as if he were swallowing Guanyin soil.

This is clearly unusual, which means that this mandala of purification not only no longer obtains energy from the outside world, but has even exhausted its own energy.

This detail made his heart sink.

He subconsciously turned his head to look at the sculpture on the lotus seat in his heart, and his divine sense circled around it. He found that it was just an ordinary stone statue and he could not sense any other aura.

However, this is not a statue.

Thinking of the words of the Flesh and Blood Guanyin, Lu Wujiu had a vague guess: "Could it be a special method of prolonging life in Tantric Buddhism?"

After thinking it over, he raised his hand and lightly touched it, leaving a smudge of ink on it, before turning and leaving.

This mandala is a size smaller than the Human Skin Book, but a size larger than the Guangxuan Mandala. This small part gives us a glimpse into the whole picture, allowing Lu Wujiu to make a rough guess about his cultivation level.

As he walked out of the mandala, what he saw along the way was even more desolate than the Golden Womb Mandala, also known as the Human Skin Book Mandala.

Although the mandala, which is surrounded by layers, is still as clean as ever, most of the portrait paintings on it are already mottled and difficult to discern.

This is not a smear of paint, but more like a reflection of the Xuanmen Soul Lamp.

In other words, the army built by the master of this mandala has probably collapsed, which means almost complete annihilation for Buddhism, which controls the cycle of reincarnation.

Lu Wujiu walked past expressionlessly until he reached outside the mandala. Only then did he place his hand on the void, and as the primordial energy surged in, the depleted mandala rippled slightly.

One after another, Sanskrit characters condensed from the void, transforming into an illusory gate.

Seeing this, Lu Wujiu's expression was complicated. After a long while, he took a deep breath and stepped out.

The intense, dry heat made Lu Wujiu squint instinctively. He looked around at the shrines, ancestral tablets, sandstone walls, incense-offering altars, and portraits of his ancestors…

Countless details came into view.

This should be an abandoned ancestral hall.

The cracks in the blue brick floor were filled with a layer of yellow sand about half a finger thick. The beams and doorposts were mottled and worn. Strings of cloth, like funeral banners, were tied to the beams and fluttered in the wind.

Behind him were countless memorial tablets, and on the offering table, a half-burnt candle lay askew on a tin candlestick, covered with sand and dust.

Lu Wujiu reached across the table, gently picked up a bone bowl, and held it up to his eyes to examine it closely.

This is a human skull, cut open at the brow bone to form a semi-circular bowl shape. The cut is inlaid with exquisite Tibetan silver and engraved with various Sanskrit characters.

In Buddhism, this is an inner offering skull cup, a ritual implement.

However, Lu Wujiu recognized it at a glance as a remnant of the Tantric sect! Just like the human skin left behind after Guangxuan's death.

The Esoteric School of Buddhism emphasizes the cultivation of both inner and outer aspects. This external cultivation involves correcting a part of the human body, which can be the skin, bones, flesh, or even hair and excrement.

If Lu Wujiu wasn't mistaken, this should be the original form of the Arhat sculpture.

The magic power was poured into it, leaving no trace, and it lost all its majesty, leaving only the toughness of the material itself, turning it into a sacrificial ritual object for the ancestral hall.

"call……"

He let out a soft breath, put away the bone bowl, turned around and walked to the door. Just as he pushed the door open a crack, a large gust of sand rushed in, blinding him so much that he could barely open his eyes.

Looking up, one can see sandstone houses scattered around the ancestral hall, with rolling yellow sand stretching to the horizon.

A gust of wind blew, stirring up billowing sand and dust. A desert?

Lu Wujiu was startled. Just as he was about to push open the door, he frowned, gently closed the door, and disappeared into the shadow of the shrine.

A moment later, footsteps could be heard.

"Squeak..."

The door opened, and countless yellow sands rushed in, instantly raising the ground of the ancestral hall by another degree.

"Bang!"

The next moment, the door closed, and the sandstorm dissipated.

Inside the room, two more figures appeared, their bodies completely wrapped in yellowish linen.

Among them, the taller figure casually removed his headscarf, revealing a dark-skinned middle-aged face.

His brows furrowed with anger as he glared at the shorter figure and roared:
"Your Majesty!"

Upon hearing this, the short man knelt down in front of the offering table with a thud, remaining silent.

The tall man ripped off the short man's headscarf and angrily shouted, "Tell us before our ancestors, what exactly is your relationship with that witch?"

The short man, who looked to be about fifteen or sixteen years old, had similarly dark skin and bore a striking resemblance to the tall man.

Faced with the tall man's angry rebuke, he stared at the memorial tablet in front of him, gritted his teeth, and remained silent.

Seeing this, the tall man lowered his voice and asked:

"Did you sleep with her?"

A flash of panic crossed the short man's eyes, which enraged the tall man, who kicked him.

"You're so stupid! You're going to drive me crazy!"

The young man fell to the ground with a thud, but after a while, he stubbornly got up again and maintained the kneeling posture.

Tell me, is she pregnant?

The young man was pale, and after a long pause, he said, "No!"

"you sure?"

"Sure!"

The middle-aged man breathed a sigh of relief and then asked, "Have you leaked any secrets or important matters concerning the village?"

"no!"

"Swear before our ancestors!"

The young man then looked up at the densely packed memorial tablets in front of him, took a slight breath, and said, "This unfilial descendant swears to Heaven that he has not revealed any secrets of the village! If he has broken this oath, may he die without a burial place."

The middle-aged man relaxed a little upon hearing this.

Seeing the young man's stubborn expression as he gritted his teeth, and thinking about the kick he had just given, I suddenly felt a pang of heartache.

He could only soften his tone and say, "Beihai is skilled in bewitching arts. I told you this long ago. Why are you so stubborn? If the village suffers losses because of you, how can I face our ancestors?"

The young man retorted, "I'm not stupid! The Pure Jade didn't react at all."

"No reaction is your excuse for secretly meeting with a demoness? Do you think the Pure Spirit Jade is a spiritual artifact? Even if it is a spiritual artifact, can it really defend against all the bewitching arts in the world?"

"Her cultivation level is less than sixty years old, how could she have kept it a secret from Qing Shenyu?"

"you……"

The middle-aged man, who had initially felt sorry for his son, now wished he could kick him to death.

He could only turn to look at the memorial tablet, gasp for breath, and try to calm his anger.

After a long pause, he lowered his head and was about to speak when his gaze swept over the offering table, and his expression suddenly froze... Where are the bone bowl ritual vessels?

(End of this chapter)