Primordial Era: A Counterattack Against Hongjun Daozu at the Start

Even as a personally instructed disciple, he still uses a vajra that he crafted himself.

"The Underworld should not push its luck!" Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva's body radiated a serene Buddhist light, and the phantom of the Nine-Petaled Golden Lotus flickered beneath his feet. "Even the most precious treasures of the Chaos beyond the Thirty-Three Heavens are but a handful. By offering these conditions, do you intend to use this opportunity to completely sever the fortunes of my sect?"

King Yama sneered and slammed his hand on the table, causing the Book of Life and Death to move without wind: "Since the West dared to act so recklessly in the cycle of reincarnation, it should have expected this predicament. The Ten Courts of Hell have prepared the Ten Thousand Ghosts Soul-Devouring Formation. Bodhisattvas may wish to weigh the consequences."

A deep laugh echoed through the Underworld's main hall. Yama, the King of Hell, clapped his hands and glanced sideways at the crowd below: "The Western Sect's meager offerings are quite an eye-opener for me. The Underworld has sincerely prepared twelve innate spiritual treasures to settle karmic debts, yet you still make excuses?"

The bronze demon mask flickered in and out of the light of the ghostly fire. "Perhaps I must summon the Twelve Ancestral Witches to personally travel to Mount Sumeru to seek clarification from the two saints, Jieyin and Zhunti?"

Ksitigarbha clattered the prayer beads in his sleeve, and out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at his fellow disciples. Jin Chanzi had already suppressed his gloating expression, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

The other disciples were even more ashen-faced. He knew that if the powerful Wu clan were allowed to advance westward, not only would his position as the head of the sect be in jeopardy, but the entire Western Sect would become a laughingstock throughout the Three Realms.

"When did Yama learn this art of eloquent speech?" Ksitigarbha asked, suppressing his surprise and doubt.

The witch clan in my memory has always been straightforward, but this person in front of me can hit the nail on the head with every word, as if he can see through the deepest fears in everyone's heart.

Behind the jade table, the Ancestral Witch Yu Qiang, his fingertips wreathed in the chilling aura of the Nine Netherworlds, looked to his side with great interest: "This method of cutting flesh with a dull knife is truly more satisfying than direct killing."

She glanced at the distraught Western believers reflected in the distant water mirror, "Why not seize the opportunity and storm Mount Ling?"

Zhou Yi chuckled as he played with the copy of the Book of Life and Death: "How can the dignity of a sage be so easily trampled upon? If it really comes to the point where the two sages have to step in, even though the Twelve Capital Heavenly Gods and Demons Formation is strong, it will ultimately be no match for the divine might of Heaven."

The image of Tibetans that his fingertips traced was, "The best strategy now is to slowly boil the frog in water, so that the Western religions will feel the pain to their very core without overturning the chessboard."

Suddenly, Ksitigarbha staggered half a step in the water mirror, and the illusory image of the Eight Treasures Merit Pool behind him flickered uncertainly.

At that opportune moment, Yama, the King of Hell, slammed the Soul-Suppressing Seal heavily onto the table, causing a howling wind to sweep through the entire Yama Palace: "Three days are the deadline. If the Spiritual Treasure is not seen, the Ten Kings of Hell will personally open the Gates of Hell and lead a million Yin soldiers to travel west!"

The faces of the two Western Saints are as solid as the foundation of Mount Ling. Even if they lose face in public, it's probably just a matter of dusting off their robes.

The scheme of the Six Realms of Reincarnation will not stop because of this; on the contrary, it will give rise to even more ingenious calculations.

Yu Qiang, the ancestral shaman, crossed his arms and pondered: "If we only care about showing off our power but don't gain any real benefits, this deal is really not worth it."

It would be better to take this opportunity to teach these bald-headed cultivators a lesson, make them suspicious and wary, and make them avoid the place of reincarnation from now on.

"Brother Yuqiang, scheming against people..." Zhou Yi hadn't finished speaking when the Great Shaman scratched his towering arm and chuckled, "You make the decision, little brother!"

The rough hand patted his shoulder, showing utmost trust.

Ksitigarbha was currently chanting Buddhist prayer beads, his lotus crown tilting slightly as he said, "Fellow members of the Witch Clan, my Ling Mountain sect is so cold and harsh that we truly cannot produce any innate spiritual treasures. These five Bodhi relics were personally passed down by a sage, capable of opening the root of wisdom and enabling one to comprehend the Great Dao..."

Before he finished speaking, the bronze masks of the Ten Kings of Hell crackled, and sparks flew from the Qi Axe in Xing Tian's hand.

"You bald monk, you've gone too far!" Yama's voice was like the cold springs of the deepest hell: "Do you think my witch clan is just an incense burner? What use is this broken stone to me!" The twelve ancestral witch totems appeared in the void, and the bloodthirsty aura solidified, pressing down on the eight hundred Arhats, making them appear dim.

Ksitigarbha suddenly awoke to the fact that these barbarians who had achieved sainthood through their physical bodies did not even possess a primordial spirit.

For them, the relics were indeed not as tangible as the stone lions in front of the Temple of the Goddess of the Earth.

Just as they were about to remedy the situation, Gonggong stirred up a raging torrent in the Weak Waters, and Jumang rode a green dragon, breaking through the air.

Even the Western Sect disciples looked at Ksitigarbha with cold eyes, and fine beads of sweat appeared on Ksitigarbha's forehead. His fingers trembled slightly beneath his robes, and he forced himself to speak:

"Please wait, everyone. Although this Buddha relic is of no benefit to the Witch Clan, it is a rare and unparalleled treasure in the Three Realms, enough to be exchanged for any rare and precious gem. I am willing to offer five innate spiritual treasures as compensation, and we can call this matter closed, shall we?"

Upon hearing this, Yama, the King of Hell, laughed loudly, his bell-like laughter causing the eerie winds of the underworld to rise: "Do you think we are beggars? If you want to leave unscathed, immediately remove all your magical treasures and artifacts."

Before the words were even finished, the Western followers were already furious, their faces turning ashen, and many of them had their hands on their ritual implements with veins bulging.

Ksitigarbha's entire body radiated crimson Buddhist light, and the phantom images of the Eight Heavenly Dragons appeared behind him: "Such an humiliating agreement, I cannot comply!"

"Just what I wanted!" Yama clapped his hands together, producing a thunderous sound, and hundreds of ghostly flames instantly lit up the depths of the underworld.

The Ten Kings of Hell revealed their true forms, each with bulging muscles and standing three zhang tall, their bronze skin adorned with ancient witchcraft patterns.

Furthermore, Ox-Head and Horse-Face led their ghostly soldiers to form a battle formation, completely surrounding the Western Sect members.

Just as the Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva's staff began to gleam with Buddhist light, the Wheel-Turning King unleashed his soul-snatching rope, which then entangled the man's ankle.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, King Qin Guang threw out the Soul-Suppressing Seal, which shattered the protective Buddha wheel of Ksitigarbha.

The remaining followers were in an even worse state, being divided and suppressed by the witch warriors using sheer numbers, and were disarmed before they could even unleash their magical weapons.

Yu Qiang, the ancestral witch, leaned against a giant rock on the bank of the River of Oblivion, playing with the newly seized demon-subduing pestle in his fingertips, and laughing as he watched the fragments of the cassock flying all over the sky.

Whenever a ray of Buddha's light appeared, he would flick his finger and shoot out a powerful blast of cold air to freeze it.

About half an incense stick later, the Western believers were either prostrate or kneeling, no longer able to fight back. The witch warriors skillfully looted the spoils, even carefully removing the gold thread from the monks' shoes.

Ksitigarbha was stripped down to his inner robe, and the swastika Buddha seal on his chest was imprinted in the Book of Life and Death as evidence.

As the Gates of Hell burst open with a deafening roar, dozens of golden beams of light fell haphazardly from the Netherworld, and a thunderous Buddhist chant immediately resounded from the direction of Mount Sumeru.

Zhou Yi stood before the Mirror of Karma and chuckled softly. The mirror reflected the dejected and bewildered appearance of Ksitigarbha.

He deliberately had the ghost soldiers leave behind jade slips that could transmit images. At this moment, the Western Pure Land has probably already received a complete record of this "education".

After this battle, the infamous reputation of the eight hundred underworld generals of the netherworld will spread throughout the thirty-three heavens.

The Westerners, gazing at the vortex of reincarnation in the depths of the netherworld, felt a sense of déjà vu, as if they had survived a catastrophe.

Those disciples who had been robbed by the Witch Clan once before now touched their empty storage bags at their waists and revealed twisted, bitter smiles. After all, they were already destitute, and this was just another bitter experience.

"If this grudge is not avenged, how can we call ourselves disciples of the saint!" someone roared hoarsely, staring at the Reincarnation Platform, his eyes turning purplish-blue from exhaustion of magical power.

Looking around, not a single one of the hundreds of disciples could maintain their dignity; their robes had long been stripped off, and the coarse linen clothes covering their bodies were merely illusions created by spiritual energy.