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

The monstrous corpse lunged forward, its massive fist carrying a stench of blood as it hurtled towards them. The air twisted and hissed in its wake, as if it were about to smash a hole in the heavens and earth. Chen Yu dodged swiftly to the side, his blade flashing back, leaving only a silver arc in its wake.

The blade sliced ​​through the air, filling it with the acrid smell of burning metal. The monstrous corpse howled, tearing through the sky in excruciating pain, yet it still roared and charged forward without fear.

He waved his arms wildly, and evil energy surged and splashed like an ink tide, shattering light and shadow and darkening the space wherever it touched.

Chen Yu felt a heavy weight on his shoulders, as if a mountain was pressing down on him. Instead, he took a half step forward, and his sword aura suddenly surged, becoming even more ferocious.

The Demon-Sealing Blade Technique was pushed to its peak, the blade light weaving into a shower of stars, the blade's momentum gathering into a thunderous roar, the entire battlefield enveloped, cut, and suppressed by the blade's intent. The evil corpse was forced to retreat step by step, struggling to defend itself, and even when it fought back with all its remaining strength, it was disintegrating inch by inch under Chen Yu's dense, net-like, and ruthless blade momentum.

Finally, it collapsed to its knees, its back, chest, abdomen, and arms riddled with deep, bone-revealing wounds, blood splattering and soaking the scorched earth. The Buddha slowly stepped forward, his palm radiating a warm, gentle light, and gently placed it on the evil corpse's forehead, steadily supporting its dying body.

Chen Yu stood alone in the center of the battle formation, his spine as straight as a spear, his face as cold as iron. His gaze swept across the surrounding area, the bloodstains on his blade, still wet, gleaming coldly in the sunlight, like a silent pronouncement.

The smoke of battle has not yet cleared, and the lingering effects remain. Broken rocks lie scattered, the ground is cracked like a spider web, knife marks are deeply embedded in the rock walls, and several stiff, motionless corpses lie silently—all the most silent witnesses to this life-or-death battle.

The Buddha stood quietly to one side, his expression benevolent, yet his eyes, deep as an ancient well, subtly reflected every fluctuation of Chen Yu's emotions.

Behind him, the evil corpse, though covered in wounds, still exuded wisps of cold, malevolent energy from the gaps in its wounds, lying dormant yet surging with undercurrents.

Chen Yu breathed slowly, his aura as steady as a rock. Although he had won this battle, the pieces that hadn't been played and the cards that hadn't been revealed were only now truly surfacing. He gripped the Demon-Sealing Blade tightly, his knuckles turning white, his eyes as resolute as black iron, awaiting the next scene to unfold.

Suddenly, a sinister laugh ripped through the silence from the edge of the battlefield, cold as an icicle, piercing the eardrums. The Buddha's lips curled slightly, his eyes deep and unfathomable like a frozen pool, the corners of his eyes slanted, concealing a myriad of unspoken cunning and calculations.

The laughter echoed through the ruins, sending chills down one's spine. Chen Yu's gaze locked onto him, alarm bells ringing in his mind—this Buddha was no longer a Buddha.

Suddenly, the corpses on the battlefield twitched in unison, as if they had been abruptly pulled up by invisible threads, stiffening their backs.

The malevolent aura churning in the eye sockets of those monstrous corpses vanished completely, leaving only a deathly gray-white, their pupils empty like dry wells. They dragged their iron-like steps, approaching Chen Yu and the Buddha step by step, each step causing spiderweb-like cracks to appear in the ground.

Chen Yu clenched his fingers, and the Demon-Sealing Blade hummed softly, its blade flashing with a cold light like an ice river suddenly cracking.

The air was thick and heavy, as if permeated with the smell of decaying earth and rust, making one's throat tighten. The Buddha stood quietly with his eyes lowered, his brows unmoved, as if he had long ago etched this change into the lines of his palm.

In an instant, the evil corpses roared in unison—not a howl, but a burst of sound as bones dislocated under the skin and muscles writhed in the blood!

Their torsos snapped violently, their skin tearing open to reveal gnarled, dark red veins and twisted, protruding bone spurs beneath. Chen Yu's pupils constricted: these were no ordinary evil spirits; they were clearly puppets forged alive by some insidious and malevolent force, their bones harder and their killing intent more intense.

The Buddha's lips curled slightly, the smile not reaching his eyes, and golden light burst forth from his fingertips, instantly transforming into thousands of Sanskrit characters that intertwined in mid-air to form a majestic golden seal.

The seal fell instantly, crashing down and locking Chen Yu firmly in the center of the light prison. He felt an immense pressure bearing down on him from all directions, as if he were swallowing shattered glass, his limbs were stuck in mud, and he couldn't even lift his fingertips.

The Buddha's gaze turned cold, a half-smile playing on his lips as he looked at him like a fly caught in a spider's web. The evil corpses, on the other hand, went completely mad, their throats emitting beast-like howls, their claws and teeth growing longer, their eyes bloodshot and bulging, as they pounced on Chen Yu in the prison of light like madmen.

Chen Yu clenched his teeth, blood seeping from his lower lip. The Demon-Sealing Blade trembled incessantly in his palm, yet he couldn't break through the iron wall woven from golden light. The spiritual energy within his body was like a riverbed drained dry, empty and echoing.

In an instant, the divine light within the golden seal flowed, quietly transforming into a deep silver glow, like moonlight pouring down, gently yet irresistibly enveloping Chen Yu's entire body.

A scorching torrent rushed into my meridians, my heart pounded like a drum, my blood surged like crashing waves, and my limbs and bones throbbed with pain as if they were about to explode.

The Buddha's smile froze on his face, a sharp look of surprise flashed in his eyes, and he stared intently at the silver light emanating from Chen Yu's body, his brows furrowing deeply.

The evil corpses' attacks grew increasingly frenzied, their roars tearing through the sky, their claws cleaving through the air currents, determined to crush Chen Yu into dust.

As the silver light intensified, Chen Yu's figure slowly rose off the ground, ripples spreading through the surrounding air, and wisps of pure and holy aura silently permeated the air, like morning mist brushing across the mountain peak.

His eyes were clear and bright, yet they held a molten lava-like radiance; his robes fluttered without wind, like banners. The Demon-Sealing Blade hovered in his palm, humming and vibrating, its blade covered with layers of ancient runes that echoed the silver light within him, so intense that it was impossible to look directly at it.

The Buddha's expression was solemn, his shoulders and back taut like a fully drawn bowstring. He recognized this aura—neither heaven nor earth, neither god nor demon, yet more chilling than any other power.

The evil corpses also suddenly stopped, their roars abruptly ceasing. They all took a half step back, their eyes reflecting a silver light, showing only naked horror and instinctive fear.

Chen Yu lightly touched the ground with his toes and slowly landed back on the ground. The silver light gradually faded, but its residual power lingered. A circle of pale golden light quietly floated on his body, like the ever-burning flame before a Buddha, warm and gentle yet not to be trifled with.

His gaze was calm, yet carried immense weight, commanding respect and inspiring awe.

The Buddha stepped forward slowly, his robe brushing against the scorched earth. His eyes, though still wary, held an undisguised shock.

He could see clearly that the person before him was no longer the cold-faced, sword-wielding outcast of the Jie Sect—the path he had embarked on was not even marked by the Heavenly Dao.

"Chen Yu, the power you possess is not bestowed by the orthodox lineage of the Three Realms. Yet you slaughtered my Buddhist disciples, your blood debt remains unpaid! Today, this humble monk will surely sever your life with the Vajra!"

Before he finished speaking, he slashed down with his vajra, the golden light tearing through the void and carrying the force of a collapsing mountain, heading straight for Chen Yu's head!

Chen Yu remained calm, gripping the Demon-Sealing Blade tightly with both hands. With a slight twist of his wrist, the blade tore through the air, emitting a sharp whistling sound, precisely blocking the thunderous strike from the Buddha.

The Vajra and the Demon-Sealing Blade clashed violently, exploding with a deafening roar that shattered rocks and scattered clouds.

A blinding golden light suddenly burst forth at the center of the impact, like the sun falling to earth, illuminating the entire wasteland in every detail.

Rings of violent energy ripples spread outwards from the point where the two weapons clashed, turning vegetation to ash, churning up rocks and soil, and leaving a scorched earth within a hundred feet.