Primordial Era: Starting with Self-Created Mythical Great Luo Law

The roar was like thunder that pierced the heavens, the earth cracked inch by inch, the mountains trembled and groaned, and even the sky darkened.

Chen Yu was enveloped in golden flames, like the blazing sun descending upon the world; while Tathagata was curled up in the pagoda, veins bulging on his forehead, and spiderweb-like cracks had appeared on the surface of the pagoda, making it teeter on the verge of collapse.

The next instant—explosion!

A blinding golden light exploded, a raging torrent swept across the land, leveling mountain peaks, burning forests, and sending scorched smoke and rubble soaring into the sky, while crimson flames rolled like a raging tide.

Without pausing, Chen Yu had already closed in on Tathagata in the blink of an eye, thrusting his spear forward in a furious strike!

The spear tip was no longer wrapped in light, but in a blazing, liquid-gold-like force. Wherever it passed, the void hummed and wailed, and the air was plowed with a scorching white mark.

The Buddha was horrified and hastily urged the pagoda to suppress it, but as soon as the pagoda moved, it was crushed by Chen Yu's spear and sent flying backward—boom!

It crashed heavily into a thousand-year-old ginkgo tree, breaking its trunk, scattering its branches and leaves, and causing its thick canopy to collapse, burying him tightly under the broken wood and debris.

"laugh--!"

A dazzling golden spear beam swept down from the sky, trailing a hundred-foot-long tail of flame, like a star falling to earth, crashing down with immense force!

"Clang!"

Chen Yu swept his spear horizontally, and golden light surged like the rising sun. With a single strike, he cleaved the sky, forcefully cutting the spear light in two, and the aftershocks exploded into a shower of golden rain.

"Crack—Boom!!!"

The mountain collapsed, the entire Lingjiu Peak caved in, rocks rained down, and dust obscured the sun. Chen Yu, traversing the crumbling mountainside, pursued through the air, his robes fluttering, the tip of his spear flashing once more—

The golden light suddenly roared and swirled, actually condensing into a living golden dragon with gleaming scales and menacing claws. It opened its mouth and roared, tightly binding the Buddha!

The dragon's body tightened more and more, and with each struggle of the Buddha, the golden scales sank deeper into the golden body until the Buddha could not move and was suspended in mid-air, like being bound in a golden cocoon.

Chen Yu extinguished the golden flames around him, slowly stepped forward, stood three feet above the Buddha's head, lowered his eyes and looked down, his voice as cold as if it had been tempered by an icy spring: "Buddha, you have lost."

Swish!

The Demon-Sealing Blade was drawn—a jet-black blade of light tore through the clouds, and a sinister aura rushed towards them, as if even the light itself was distorted, withered, and scattered before the blade's edge.

A flicker of fear crossed the Buddha's eyes. He recognized the blade—a legendary weapon that could vanquish all evil. It could seal anything it touched, and even ancient demons had been nailed to the Nine Netherworld Stele by it.

If this blade touches one's body, even the thought of reincarnation will be severed.

Chen Yu stood with his sword in hand, his gaze like an ice spike piercing in all directions. The black blade light reflected on his cold profile, adding three parts murderous intent and seven parts unshakeable strength.

Suddenly, the blade trembled, countless dark patterns lit up with a blood-red light, and a heavy, abyss-like sealing power erupted, as if invisible chains were being drawn from nothingness, tightly binding the Buddha's limbs and bones.

Tathagata felt a sweet taste in his throat, and the remaining light of the pagoda flickered violently. He used the last bit of his Buddhist power to fight back, but he only felt that the evil power was like a maggot clinging to his bone, becoming stronger and heavier the more he struggled, and even his eyelids felt heavier than a thousand pounds.

Chen Yu's lips curled up slightly, and the Demon-Sealing Blade in his hand suddenly emitted a thick, inky black light, which poured down like a tide, completely engulfing the figure of the Buddha.

The Buddha slowly closed his eyes, his anger gone, replaced only by weariness and tranquility.

He sat silently, his fingertips twirling the prayer beads, a silent "Amitabha" sinking into his heart.

Chen Yu raised his arm, the Demon-Sealing Blade held high above his head, its tip pointing directly at the Buddha's brow—this strike would sever cause and effect, determine victory or defeat, and decide divine status.

And in the deepest shadows of the blade, the evil forces that had been forcibly suppressed were stirring wildly, as if an ancient, dormant will was being quietly awakened by a barely perceptible crack deep within the blade.

The wind stopped, the birds fell silent, and even time itself seemed to hold its breath.

Although the Buddha was suppressed by the Demon-Sealing Blade and unable to move, his mind was clear and his magical power was not destroyed. His divine thoughts were still as clear and sharp as the moon reflected in an ancient well.

Just as Chen Yu took a step forward, and the blade was about to fall, a layer of golden light, as thin as a cicada's wing, suddenly emanated from his body, and a Dharma image slowly condensed from the void, standing steadily in front of him.

The image of the Buddha was majestic, like a newly formed mountain. His crown was adorned with jewels that shimmered with light, and his robe resembled a surging sea of ​​clouds. He held a nine-ringed staff in his hand, and his eyes, though lowered, seemed to illuminate the three realms. His compassion was wrapped in an unyielding majesty. This was the supreme secret technique of Buddhism, "Dharma-Heaven Confrontation," which used heaven and earth as a bow and the universe as an arrow to unleash a single, all-encompassing strike.

Chen Yu's pupils suddenly contracted, and his eyebrows rose slightly. He had not expected that this nailed-to-the-ground body could summon such a vast and powerful Dharma image.

But instead, a cold, sharp smile appeared on his lips. He suddenly gripped the Demon-Sealing Blade tightly, his knuckles turning white. The blade hummed and trembled, as if echoing the surging battle intent within him.

Faxiang slowly raised his arm, and a dazzling golden light gathered at the tip of his staff. The surrounding air was torn apart inch by inch, the wind was like a knife cutting, the clouds were like ink staining, and lightning snakes danced and roared wildly in the clouds. The entire battlefield was instantly taut like a fully drawn bowstring, and even the earth was trembling silently.

The blue bricks beneath Chen Yu's feet were cracked inch by inch, and his robes fluttered wildly, yet his spine remained as straight as a spear.

He stared at the Buddha statue, his eyes as cold as a frozen lake, yet beneath the ice, a flickering, almost defiant flame burned. He believed in this sword—believed it had slain demon kings, cleaved the underworld, and devoured all evil; and believed that today, it could still sever the Buddha's light.

A golden light pierced through the air, so fast it tore through afterimages.

Chen Yu neither dodged nor evaded, but swung the Demon-Sealing Blade fiercely. A jet-black blade aura exploded out, carrying the ferocity and thirst of a hungry ghost, and crashed head-on into the Buddha light!

Boom—

For a moment, heaven and earth fell silent. The golden and black torrents churned and churned, the splashing waves sending up debris like a torrential rain, and the scorching air waves ripped two jagged rifts through the clouds in the sky.

The ground beneath Chen Yu's feet collapsed like a spiderweb, his muscles bulged like cast iron, every vein throbbed as if alive, and a dark red glow emanated from beneath his skin, as if his skin would burst at any moment.

Two primordial forces hung in mid-air, locked in a stalemate, tearing and roaring. Lightning danced wildly between the blade and the staff, the wind and clouds swirled, and the sun and moon lost their light.

Although Chen Yu was small in stature, he was like a black iron nail driven into the crack of heaven and earth, driven firmly, driven hard, driven relentlessly—what he wanted was not victory, but to crush, to erase, to silence the Buddhist chant forever.

His blood boiled, and his fighting spirit burned within him. He raised his head and roared, his voice like a dragon's cry tearing through silk. His bones crackled and popped, his muscles bulged like ancient pines, and every inch of his skin was taut like a bowstring about to snap, rising up a visible crimson mist.

He drew his sword and charged forward, becoming one with the blade, transforming into a bolt of black lightning that tore through the sky!

A hundred paces is a distance that can be covered in an instant.

The blade flashed and fell, like a celestial river hanging upside down!

The Buddha was cleaved off the ground and sent flying, his robe torn to shreds, and several charred knife marks appeared on his golden body, with blood spurting like rain.

A sharp pain flashed across his face, but he quickly regained his composure, his eyes remaining calm as still as an ancient pool. The golden flames in his eyes not only did not extinguish, but shone even brighter. He parted his lips slightly, and a low, chanting hymn echoed: "Amitabha... Namo Amitabha..."