Invasion Myth: Starting with the Schoolteacher

Chapter 610 My Second Hometown
The Buddhist approach of delivering a sharp rebuke is indeed powerful.

One palm strike temporarily extinguished Xiahou's various anxieties. Having gone through a life-or-death experience, he has gained a broader perspective.

He reached a brief state of enlightenment, which is the superficial level of 'emptiness' that ordinary monks envy the most.

The Holy Father's Vajra Divine Power was personally passed down to the Dragon Subduer, and the other party will not have too many worries for several months.

As for what will happen in a few months, that depends on the guidance. Spiritual practice ultimately involves cultivating the mind, and cultivating the mind is a lifelong endeavor.

Even the most eloquent monks who preach can fall into depravity, and even the former corpse of the Dragon-Subduing Demon can be corrupted by the demons of heaven and earth. So why should a swordsman with strong desires become a Buddha simply by laying down his sword?

The saying "Put down the butcher's knife and become a Buddha on the spot" needs to be explained from two perspectives.

One interpretation is that everyone possesses Buddha-nature, while the butcher's knife symbolizes attachments and delusions such as greed, anger, and ignorance. Letting go reveals one's true nature. This is the explanation given by eminent monks and the understanding of believers.

One is a lie. Picking up the butcher's knife and putting it down can represent two different attitudes.

However, Xiahou Jian is the first one. He is not afraid of the Holy Father whether he carries the Butcher's Knife or not. Moreover, in his current state of wisdom, he is following the four members of the academy around.

He suggested that there was no rush to challenge Yan Chixia to a sword duel, and that it would be better to follow Mr. Xu to see the evil sword hidden in the earth fire.

He actually intended to be a bodyguard, but the personality correction that came with that palm strike brought back some of his chivalrous spirit.

Even if the teacher is good at fighting, it's impossible for these three students to be just as good.

The four members of the academy naturally accepted this act of care without hesitation.

After Xiahou Jian died once, his cultivation level rose again, and he became a martial artist, so he could play a very important role.

The five people continued to wait beside the fire until noon.

"Master Xu, when will this sword finally come out?" Ji Rui was a little bored and couldn't wait to go down and take out that mysterious thing.

But Bai Lu absolutely refused to go into the sea of ​​fire and gave him a blasting headbutt.

Xu Xuan did some quick calculations with his fingers and indicated that he didn't know.

Xiahou is controlled by the demonic sword, so he doesn't seem to be the destined sword master. Therefore, we must continue to wait until the sword master arrives.

"Who could be more suitable than you?"

Excellent, excellent! Ji Rui's courage is unparalleled. He continues to surpass his past self, truly inheriting someone's Yin-Yang Dao.

The Holy Father was initially furious. "My last divine weapon was called the Seven Stars Big Dipper Sword. Do you understand the meaning of sacrificing oneself for righteousness? It couldn't be more righteous." The subsequent Gan Jiang and Mo Xie swords were also perfectly timed and appropriate, easily slaying dragons.

After feeling ashamed and annoyed, he became thoughtful, realizing that he did indeed lack a bit of destiny.

Whether it's a divine weapon or a demonic weapon, it will eventually pass through your hands and fall into the hands of others. How interesting.

But why didn't this evil weapon choose me?
He was still furious.

With golden light protecting me, the sword won't come to me, so I'll go and draw my sword.

Just as someone was about to take it by force, the foothills of Qinxi Mountain began to tremble.

A deep, muffled thumping sound came from the depths of the earth, as if a giant heart was awakening, and waves of evil thoughts surged into the sky.

The mountain's surface is cracked with countless fine lines, not ordinary cracks, but like blood vessels stretched open by some indescribable thing.

Thick, reddish-black liquid seeped from the cracks, causing vegetation to wither, rocks to decay, and even the air to scorch and ripple.

A series of sobs came from the mountainside, like the roar of a dragon, the wailing of ghosts, or the piercing trembling of thousands of broken swords scraping against each other in a bronze cauldron.

it's dark.

It wasn't the darkness of nightfall, but a deeper, more ominous kind of darkness.

The clouds seemed to be stirred by an invisible giant hand, forming a huge vortex. A mournful howl came from the horizon, like the barking of dogs, the howling of wolves, or the shrieks of thousands of wronged souls.

A celestial dog eclipsing the sun is an ominous sign!
Xu Xuan, along with his three students and the fearless swordsman, took a few steps back. What the hell was that?!
They even included celestial phenomena; that's pretty sophisticated.

Hopefully, such a cool entrance won't result in a huge mess; Master Fahai's suppression record this year can still be improved.

As someone eagerly awaited the sun, it was gradually devoured, and shadows writhed like living creatures. With each inch of sunlight swallowed, the earth's fire surged even more fiercely.

Deep within the mountains, the magma was no longer crimson, but instead shimmered with an eerie bronze hue, and when it boiled, it emitted a clanging sound like metal clashing.

"boom--!!!"

The mountainside exploded, and a jet-black pillar of fire shot into the sky, writhing with countless twisted characters. At that moment, those runes danced in the fire like mad birds and insects.

Bird-and-insect script?
As a frequent visitor to the Chongqi Library, Xu Xuan immediately recognized the origin of these texts.

Late-period bronze inscriptions incorporate dragon and phoenix motifs, with lines that curve like ribbons, showcasing a combination of martial spirit and aesthetic appreciation.

Moreover, the content is a sacrificial text, which is very traditional and simple.

The script of the Wu Kingdom, sacrificial texts, and the evil sword?
This combination is somewhat intriguing, and combined with the legends of the Wu and Yue regions, Xu Xuan made some guesses.

Then the celestial phenomena went completely mad, and the entire Qinxi Mountain foothills seemed to be dragged into another world.

The Holy Father has the right to speak on this; it certainly feels like a small copy.

The rules of the mortal realm have undergone subtle changes, as the power of the universe has intervened.

"Everyone be careful, this thing might be a ritual artifact used to communicate with heaven and earth in the past."

Before the words were finished, thunderclouds shaped like bronze tripods formed in the northern sky, while a half-circle of black sun hung in the southern sky.

The rain fell upside down, with thousands of iron beads shooting into the sky from the fire in the ground, then melting into crimson ribbons in the clouds and falling down.

A bird flew by, its wings instantly covered in patina, and when it fell stiffly to the ground, it produced a clear sound like a chime.

Xiahou's broken sword suddenly unsheathed itself three inches, the tassel igniting without wind. He pressed down on the trembling hilt, only to find his hands covered in rust.

From the depths of the subterranean fire came the sound of metal clashing, as if an unseen giant hammer was forging something one last time. Then the hammering stopped.

Amidst raging flames, an evil sword is born.

The sky turned completely dark red, the sun was swallowed up, leaving only a pitch-black void. The earth began to decay, the grass and trees withered, the rocks melted, and even the wind carried the stench of decay.

The crowd stared at the exaggerated special effects.

It was a broken sword, one foot and seven inches long, with only half of the blade remaining. The break was jagged, as if it had been broken by some irresistible force, or more like a defective product from the time it was forged.

Yet it was this broken sword that exuded an evil aura that could change the very fabric of the world.

Xu Xuan's face showed joy, and his hands were clasped together, with a Buddha-like light emanating from his body.

"The calamity of the artifact has appeared, and all living beings are suffering."

"It was originally Shengxie!"

"This sword is destined for me."

Ou Yezi was commissioned by King Helü of Wu to forge a sword, but with each inch he forged, the sword became more malevolent. Ou Yezi was alarmed that the sword was too evil and feared it would bring chaos to the world, so he stopped forging it halfway through, and named it "Shengxie" (meaning "Victorious Against Evil").

It's no wonder that swordsmiths have the potential to wreak havoc on the world.

Zhanlu and Shengxie were created by the same person, making him practically the mastermind behind everything.

Xu Xuan was also delighted by the special nature of this sword. What time was it now? It was a time when the Dao was diminishing and the demons were rising.

With each inch of forging, the sword gains more malevolence. Does that mean that forging one more inch of forging is necessary?

A magical soldier that can grow in size, what a treasure!

With Shengxie emerging, the Sword Master of Destiny will also be coming.

Huh?
A familiar wind blows from an unknown place, and black earth is spreading.

A three-zhang-high crack silently tore open, eventually transforming into a colossal gate that reached the heavens and stood tall.

Black walls, gray tiles, red pillars—an endless aura of death permeated every brick and tile. A large sign hung above the city gate, bearing the seven golden characters: "Gate of the Underworld."

Banners fluttered on both sides, the scene was chaotic and dazed, and the cries were deafening.

Xu Xuan was in a strange good mood; it turned out to be my second hometown.

I wonder if the friends coming this time are new or old. I'm so excited!

Next.
"boom--"

The door is open.

Actually not.

The person behind the door cast spells and made hand gestures several times, but the Gate of Hell seemed to have crashed and refused to open the door.

Because the Gates of Hell are extremely reluctant to open. The calamity here is already severely excessive, and the demons of the mortal realm are about to invade the underworld again by some twist of fate.

As the first line of defense in the underworld, it has the responsibility to protect the netherworld, a authority granted by the underworld.

The Holy Father, who had been waiting for a long time, could almost feel the embarrassment of the villain behind the door.

They've made such a big scene, but they're stuck here. Hopefully, there's no one else next to them.

behind the door.

On Mount Luofeng, at the massive training ground of the Yintian Palace of King Zhou.

The winds of the underworld blew the conch shell.

The sound wasn't as clear and bright as a human horn; instead, it carried a muffled wailing, like thousands of drowned ghosts simultaneously blowing bone flutes in deep water. The conch shell's surface was covered with honeycomb-like holes, and from each hole protruded a pale finger, moving eerily to the rhythm.

“Woo—”

Twelve shamans draped in animal skins entered with ancient steps. Their skins were covered with flowing, dark runes, and with each step, black blood seeped from the runes, forming ancient characters at their feet.

The drumbeats grew faster and faster, and the shaman's dance became increasingly frenzied.

The bronze chariot slowly rose from the pool of blood, its wheels made of countless skulls joined together, emitting a chilling cacophony as it turned.

The emperor, wearing a bronze mask, stood on a high platform. His black royal robe was embroidered with the Nine Nether Flames pattern, and he exuded an aura of dominance.

The bodyguard on the left was an ordinary-looking, gray-clad ghost. His appearance and demeanor were so peaceful that he didn't seem like a ghost at all.

The woman on the right is dressed in a white crane feather robe and holds a green jade banner for summoning souls. She appears ethereal and otherworldly, but upon closer inspection, it is discovered that the "white crane patterns" are actually embroidered with dense bone needles.

The king gently tapped his scepter.

"Wow--"

Countless ghostly soldiers knelt on the ground. They were clad in decaying iron armor, their eye sockets flickering with eerie green flames, and their rusty longswords clashed together, producing a sickening metallic scraping sound. They were clearly ferocious ghostly swordsmen comparable to the Black Mountain Army.

"Burn the edict from Heaven, offer sacrifices to the book of Earth."

The white crane woman gracefully descended among the twelve shamans, took out a tortoise shell from her feathered robe, and placed it into the will-o'-the-wisp to burn.

The fire suddenly surged, burning two charred marks in the air: one transformed into a black bird spreading its wings, with rotten blood dripping from its feathers; the other turned into a dragon coiled around a pillar, its eyes reflecting mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

The tortoise shell also developed cracks.

"Good luck!"

(End of this chapter)