I Have the Martial Arts Heavenly Eye in the Storm Riders

"Fighting the Buddha?"

As Dugu Ming uttered those three words, his eyes beneath the mask grew colder.

The Laughing Buddha of Xiling quickly lowered his head, his tone revealing undisguised reverence:

"My master has lived in seclusion for many years and has a very strange temper."

"But his 'Thousand-Hand Tathagata' technique is absolutely unique in Buddhism."

"If he were willing to come out of seclusion, let alone one person or one worry, even if the abbot of Shaolin Temple himself came, he would be crushed!"

Dugu Ming suddenly turned around, creating a gust of wind that stung the cheek of Xiling Xiaofo.

"lead the way!"

The Laughing Buddha of Xiling swallowed hard, his legs going weak.

"My lord... my master swore a solemn oath never to get involved in the troubles of the martial world again, I'm afraid..."

"Shut up." Dugu Ming interrupted him, his voice carrying an undeniable domineering authority.

"There is no god or Buddha in this world that I cannot move!"

"If he wants fame, I will give it to him; if he wants profit, I will reward him."

"If they don't appreciate it..."

He clenched his fingers, and a piercing screech erupted in the air.

"Then let him not even be able to become a clay idol!"

Before he could finish speaking, Dugu Ming reached out with one hand and grabbed at the air.

Ten zhang away, a stone lion weighing several thousand kilograms was lifted into the air by an invisible force and crashed down at the feet of the Laughing Buddha of Xiling with a "boom"!

A piece of gravel flew past his scalp, leaving a trail of blood.

The Laughing Buddha of Xiling's knees buckled, and he knelt down.

"My lord is truly awe-inspiring! Your subordinate will lead the way immediately!"

The meditation room at Motuo Lanruo Temple.

The lamp wick popped once, but it couldn't dispel the faint smell of blood in the room.

"Uncle-Master! Something terrible has happened!" A young novice monk stumbled in through the door, his face contorted with grief.

"People from Baima Temple and Tongfo Temple have blocked our front yard!"

"They say a murderer came from our temple, so we don't deserve to stay in the alliance, and they want to smash our plaque!"

Enraged, Yi You kicked over the wooden stool in front of him.

"This is outrageous! These bastards are kicking us when we're down!"

Yiyou paced around the room like an ant on a hot pan, finally stopping abruptly, grabbing Jin's arm, her eyes bloodshot:

"Brother Jin, I have a favor to ask of you!"

"You will represent us at the Alliance Conference and win the position of Alliance Leader!"

Jin Yi shrugged his shoulders, releasing his inner strength, and directly shook Yi You's hand away.

He leaned back in his chair, not even lifting his eyelids:

"Not interested."

Unable to give up, he pulled out a tattered silk book from his robes and gritted his teeth, saying:

"As long as you nod, you can freely browse through the temple's 'Great Compassion Hand' secret techniques!"

Jin chuckled, his fingertips twirling the rag used to wipe away the blood:

"That kind of slow, merciful palm strike is too dull even to kill someone."

"I have absolutely no interest in your monks' kung fu."

"No!" Yiyou cried out anxiously, slapping her thigh.

"Now that Cijue is dead and the abbot is gone, the entire temple is without a single capable fighter!"

"If you don't go, those outsiders will definitely tear this temple down!"

"What does the temple's demolition have to do with me?"

Jin's tone was as firm as iron. He pulled a tattered cloth from the table and slowly wiped the bloodstains on his shoes without even glancing outside.

"Besides, your footwork looks alright, why don't you go and do it yourself?"

"Oh, my dear grandfather!" he cried, waving his hands in protest.

"That was just a stunt I did to escape!"

"I've only ever practiced dodging in my life; I have absolutely no real combat experience. If I were to go on stage, wouldn't those animals tear me apart?"

Jin casually tossed the rag in his hand aside and said coldly:

"I only kill those who deserve to die; I don't get involved in these pointless squabbles."

Yiyou was met with a tough rebuff and was so anxious that he scratched his head and could only turn his head sharply to look at Long'er, who had been sitting in the corner silently wiping his sword.

He leaned closer and shamelessly squatted down:

"Brother Long'er, look how talented you are..."

"You want me to hit you?"

Long'er stopped wiping her sword, looked up at him, her eyes as clear as ice water.

"Yes! Those bastards are definitely up to no good. We need someone who can keep things in check!" Yiyou gritted his teeth.

"If you're willing to come, I, the monk, will teach you my most treasured secret technique, 'Water Shift'!"

Long'er's fingers gently caressed the cold scabbard, her icy gaze piercing Yi You:

"Your unique skills, plus your unconditional obedience to my arrangements at the conference."

"Should we do this deal?"

Startled by the sudden burst of brilliance emanating from the young man, Yi You forgot all about feeling sorry for him and slapped her thigh hard.

"Let's do it!"

"As long as you can keep things under control, I'll do whatever you say!"

"it is good."

He stood up, picked up his sword, and walked out the door, his decisive action leaving Yiyou stunned.

As she reached the door, Long'er tossed out a sentence without turning her head:

"Go to the backyard and teach now."

In the backyard, the cold moon hangs high.

Jin leaned against a red-lacquered pillar in the corridor, arms crossed, a blade of grass he'd plucked from somewhere dangling from his mouth, watching the courtyard like a spectator.

"Listen carefully, the essence of Water Movement can be summed up in eight words—walk as if treading water, move as if riding waves!"

As soon as Yi You finished speaking, he seemed to have all his bones drained away and shrunk down out of thin air.

Immediately afterwards, he lightly touched the hard bluestone slab with the tip of his foot.

There was not a sound of wind, nor a muffled thud of footsteps.

His waist twisted at an extremely bizarre angle, and his whole body transformed into a pool of boneless spring water, silently sliding seven or eight zhang away along the ground!

His movements, rising and falling, were like walking on turbulent waves.

Sometimes it moves like an undercurrent, skimming the ground;

Sometimes it surges up like a raging tide crashing against the shore.

It moves erratically, sometimes to the left, sometimes to the right, advancing and retreating without any discernible pattern, completely violating the natural laws of human power generation.

As the moonlight shone down, he cast more than a dozen ripple-like afterimages in the courtyard.

Before anyone could focus their eyes, the afterimages shattered one after another in the night wind like bubbles, blurring the lines between reality and illusion, leaving no trace of even a hem of clothing!

After the demonstration, Yiyou stood still, slightly out of breath:

"This movement technique is extremely difficult to master. As a beginner, you can only understand about 20% of it..."

"Zheng—!"

A clear, melodious sword cry suddenly rang out, abruptly silencing Yiyou's words!

Long'er moved.

Without using his legs to exert force, he slid out like a pool of spilled mercury!

Twist, stretch, fold!

The movements were not only exactly the same as Yiyou's just now, but even smoother and more eerie!

Even more terrifying is that this pool of "spring water" hides deadly ice needles!

Long'er flipped her wrist, and the black sword moved with her movements.

The sword light was cold and sharp, like an undercurrent.

"Hiss hiss hiss—"

The sharp sword energy instantly shredded all the fallen leaves in the courtyard!

The debris didn't fall to the ground; instead, it was drawn by the airflow created by his movement, forming a wildly dancing dragon of withered leaves around the sword's edge!

"call--"

The withered leaf dragon suddenly dispersed, and Long'er sheathed her sword on her back without even disturbing her breathing.

At that very moment, a whooshing sound suddenly rang out!

"Whoosh!"

Jin, who was leaning against the pillar, suddenly kicked out without warning, his toe lifting a piece of broken wood from the ground and shooting it straight at Long'er's head like an arrow!

"Watch out!" Yiyou cried out in fright.

Without turning his head, Long'er twisted his body forward in a strange way, sliding half a foot along the ground as if he had no bones.

The broken piece of wood flew past his scalp and slammed into the courtyard wall with a loud thud, penetrating deep into the wood!

Long'er straightened up, dusted off the hem of her clothes, and didn't even look at the broken piece of wood.

Jin spat out the grass root in his mouth, raised an eyebrow, and a hint of admiration flashed in his eyes:

"Tsk, as slippery as an eel."

"He stole the monk's unique skill with just one glance and even modified it into his own sword moves."

"What an unreasonable martial arts freak."

Yi You nearly dropped his chin on his foot, his two beady eyes widened, and his heart pounded.

You can learn it after watching it once?

He even incorporated swordsmanship into it?!

This movement technique combined with this sword is even more unorthodox and ruthless than that of his own legitimate successor!

"A monster... a pure monster!"

Yi You swallowed hard, and suddenly felt a surge of joy.

With this little monster around, the Monk and Nun Alliance Conference is a sure thing!

Before we knew it, the day of the conference arrived.

Buddha's Hand Peak.

A colossal Buddha statue rises from the ground, its enormous hand reaching towards the sky—this is the very peak!

At this moment, the enormous palm of the Buddha was filled with the clamor of voices.

All the monks and nuns from the "six temples and eighteen monasteries" arrived.

The huge square was crowded with monks in red, yellow, and gray robes, making a lot of noise. It was nothing like the peaceful place a Buddhist monastery should be. Their eyes revealed nothing but greed and scheming for the throne of the leader.

On the high platform, a statue of the Thousand-Hand Guanyin lowers its head and eyes.

An elderly monk with a white beard walked to the front of the stage, clasped his hands together, gathered his strength, and raised his voice, which, like a booming bell, drowned out the noise of the entire hall:

"The untimely death of Alliance Leader Xinming is a great misfortune for our Buddhist community!"

"Today, all heroes have gathered to elect a new leader to govern the alliance!"

A stir immediately broke out in the audience, with many martial monks already itching to get started.

The old monk raised his hand and pressed it down, continuing:

"To ensure the fairness of the conference, according to old rules, we need to ask an outsider to act as a notary."

"The notary for this case was highly recommended by Master Yiyou of Motuo Lanruo Temple—"

Before the old monk could even announce his name, a fat monk with a face full of scars shouted at the top of his lungs:

"What a worry! Your Motuo Lanruo Temple doesn't even have anyone in charge right now, yet you still have the nerve to nominate a notary?"

"Did they just pick some random Tom, Dick, or Harry from down the mountain to make up the numbers?"

A burst of laughter immediately erupted around them.

Master Yiyou wasn't annoyed. He put his hands in his sleeves and grinned at the fat monk.

"Bald monk, what's your hurry?"

"Just don't wet your pants when my brother goes up there later."

Yiyou turned his head and gestured towards the old monk on the high platform.

The old monk understood, gathered his inner energy, and his voice resounded throughout the entire area:

"Please welcome—Benefactor Jin!"

As soon as he finished speaking, all eyes in the room swept over him like searchlights.

On the steps, a tall and slender figure slowly walked into everyone's view.

He wasn't wearing a cassock or carrying any magical implements; he was simply dressed in a clean and sharp chivalrous outfit.

Jin walked up the steps expressionlessly, his steps slow but firm, each step carrying a chilling composure.

His hands were empty, yet he was like a peerless, newly unsheathed sword, chillingly cold and arrogantly proud.

The once bustling square fell eerily quiet for a moment.

Immediately afterwards, even bigger doubts erupted!

"Who is this kid who hasn't even grown his first hair yet?!"

"I've never even heard of this person in the martial arts world!"

"Has Yiyou gone mad, hiring a complete novice as a notary?"

"Get out of here! Who gave you the right to speak here!"

A burly, fierce-looking monk stepped forward from the crowd, holding a thick iron rod, as thick as a duck's egg, upside down in his hand. He pointed it at Jin's nose and cursed:

"Where did this bastard come from, daring to act like a big shot in front of the six temples and eighteen monasteries!"

"Get down here, Buddha!"

Having said that, he gathered his inner energy and stomped his foot hard on the bluestone slab.

"Snap!"

The stone slab shattered, and the warrior monk, using the force of the impact, swooped down on the platform like a bird, his iron rod whistling through the air as he smashed it down on Jin's head!

Faced with this overwhelming blow, Jin didn't even blink.

Instead of retreating, he advanced, facing the shadow of the stick, and casually raised his right leg, giving it a light kick forward.

There was no earth-shattering momentum, only a fleeting afterimage too fast for the naked eye to catch.

"Bang!"

A dull thud that made your teeth ache.

The monk didn't even see how Jin kicked out. He was hit head-on by a battering ram and sent flying back at ten times the speed he had come from. He crashed heavily into a crowd of people several dozen feet away, coughed up a mouthful of blood, and immediately lost consciousness.

The iron rod fell onto the stage with a clang, bending in the middle into a terrifying "V" shape.

The once bustling square instantly fell into a deathly silence.

Everyone was like a rooster with its neck choked, mouths agape, unable to utter a sound.

Jin slowly withdrew his leg, walked to the center of the platform, and stood still.

Looking down at the monks below as if they were ants, a contemptuous sneer curled at the corner of his mouth.

"Who else disagrees?"

"Who else??"

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an oppressive aura that seemed to have risen from a mountain of corpses and a sea of ​​blood, like a bucket of ice water being poured over him, instantly silencing the few most vocal martial monks in the front row.