Journey to the West: Starting with the True Lord of the Pure Land

"Shut up! Do you think they'll let the Han family off the hook if you leave?"

The old man sternly rebuked the girl behind him, his voice hoarse yet carrying an undeniable authority:

"I, Han Chengzong, have lived for over a hundred years, witnessed storms, and experienced ups and downs."

Although he is not a person of great wisdom and ability, he is not so senile as to sacrifice his own child to exchange for this precarious peace!

Today, my Han family can sell our daughters to survive; tomorrow, we'll be exploited to the bone! My Han family's standing in Aolai Kingdom isn't based on groveling and begging!

He looked deeply at Han Liyan, his eyes filled with a complex mix of relief and anger, which ultimately culminated in a low, somber voice:

"I, Han Chengzong, am not dead yet. This family... is not for a girl like you to shoulder."

After saying that, he exerted a little force and gently pushed the girl toward his clansmen behind him.

Han Chengzong faced Qiu Peng again, his posture upright and his voice firm:

"Master Qiu, what a skillful method."

But the Han family has no one left to befriend. If you want to kill or torture them, you'll have to step over me first!

The spiritual light of the early Foundation Establishment stage spread out inch by inch, protecting the mansion behind him with a resolute attitude.

The fake smile on Qiu Peng's face finally vanished completely, replaced by a cold expression. He said:

"Stubborn to the end! Then don't blame this humble servant for being ruthless!"

Before he could finish speaking...

Qiu Peng did not move, but his right palm had already reached out, a layer of earthy yellow spiritual light emanating from his palm, and with the force of a mountain collapsing, he struck Han Chengzong's chest.

Before the palm strike even arrived, the immense spiritual power of the late Foundation Establishment stage cultivator had already caused the air to emit a muffled groan.

Han Chengzong's pupils contracted, he clasped his hands together, and a blinding red light shot out from between his withered fingers. His crimson true essence erupted and transformed into a raging pillar of fire.

The [Crimson Furnace Fire Nourishing Technique], which he had painstakingly cultivated for a century, was activated to its fullest extent at this moment, and his whole being seemed to transform into a burning furnace.

With a hoarse, long howl, seven crimson flames shot up from the top of his head, transforming into seven fiery crows with outstretched wings in the air.

Qiu Peng remained unmoved, and his palm strike intensified.

"Bang!"

Suddenly, the seven fire crows in the sky let out a mournful cry, as if they had crashed into an invisible mountain, and the firelight dimmed instantly.

The Han family members who were watching were pushed back by the powerful shockwave, and the disciples with lower cultivation levels were even blown away.

The seven fire crows exploded simultaneously, turning into crimson smoke and dissipating into the air.

The surrounding courtyard walls were completely destroyed, and the two-story pavilion collapsed with a crash.

Han Chengzong groaned and flew backward, spitting out three mouthfuls of blood amidst the ruins of the courtyard wall.

The raging flames around him instantly died down, with only a few wisps of smoke rising from his charred robes.

The old man struggled to lift his head, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His shirt was ripped apart by the aftershocks of the palm strike, revealing his thin, bony chest.

"Ancestor!"

The Han family members all paled, their bodies turned ice-cold, and some of the younger members trembled violently, almost collapsing. .

Han Liyan's pretty face turned deathly pale, devoid of any color, and she suddenly rushed forward.

But he was held back by a clansman beside him, and could only watch helplessly as his great-grandfather was humiliated, his pearly teeth sinking deep into his lower lip, drawing blood.

Qiu Peng withdrew his hand, stood with his hands behind his back, and not even the hem of his clothes was ruffled.

He walked slowly forward, his boots making a clear clattering sound on the bluestone slabs, which was particularly jarring in the deathly silent courtyard.

His eyes swept over the heavily breathing old man, a sneer curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Old man."

Qiu Peng's voice was calm, yet every word was like a knife, scraping against the eardrums of everyone present:

"Do you really think that just because you've lived for nearly two hundred years, and I call you 'fellow Daoist,' you're... truly on equal footing with me?"

He stopped about ten feet in front of Han Chengzong, looking down at the disheveled old man with blood at the corner of his mouth, and gently shook his head:

"You mere Foundation Establishment cultivator, barely clinging to life, dare to negotiate with me?"

The warm sunlight shone on Qiu Peng's cold, hard face, and his voice was chilling:

"Those who are like ants should have the awareness of ants."

Before he finished speaking, he casually flicked his sleeve, and an invisible force struck Han Chengzong's chest once again.

The old man could no longer hold on, and after spinning around, he crashed heavily onto the dilapidated bluestone slabs in the courtyard, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Inside and outside the courtyard, there was a deathly silence.

The Han family members were all pale.

He gazed at his ancestor, his breath wan and his hair and beard stained with blood, amidst the dust.

Looking again at the unshakable figure in front of the door, a chill ran through my heart.

Just when the Han family members were feeling utterly hopeless and despondent.

It seemed to perfectly reflect the feelings of the Han family.

The warmth in the courtyard quietly dissipated, and a bone-chilling cold silently spread out.

Several dilapidated plants in the corner of the yard were visibly covered with fine frost patterns.

A figure appeared silently in the center of the courtyard, like an ink droplet falling into water.

He stood precisely between Qiu Peng and Han Chengzong.

He was silent, as if he had always been standing there.

The newcomer wore a deep blue, almost black robe, without any patterns on it, yet it seemed to absorb all the light around it.

He was tall and slender, with an unusually handsome face, even bearing a pale complexion reminiscent of a young man.

But his eyes were unfathomably deep, like two long-standing, icy pools, exuding an aura of gloom that could not be dispelled.

But his eyes were unfathomably deep, like two long-standing, icy pools, exuding an aura of gloom that could not be dispelled.

There was no oppressive spiritual pressure around him, but there was an omnipresent chilling aura.

However, this caused all the cultivators present, including Qiu Peng, who was in the late Foundation Establishment stage, to feel a slight stagnation in their dantian and a disruption in the flow of qi.

He didn't look at Han Chengzong, who was seriously injured on the stone steps, nor at the terrified members of the Han family.

He merely turned his head slightly, his gaze falling on Qiu Peng, whose expression had suddenly changed, and a chilling smile curved his lips.

"Oh……"

A soft laugh, like the gentle touch of ice shards, escaped from his lips.

He repeated Qiu Peng's words, his voice not loud, but clearly reaching everyone's ears, carrying an indescribable mix of amusement and coldness:

"Well said... Ants should have the awareness of ants."

Qiu Peng's pupils suddenly contracted, and a protective aura suddenly rose around his body, as if facing a formidable enemy.

With his late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivation, he was completely unaware of when or how this person appeared!

He stared intently at the blue-robed man who had suddenly appeared before him, trying to sense his cultivation level.

But he found that his divine sense was like a mud ox sinking into the sea; the person was clearly standing there, but his aura was like a cold pool.

Perceiving the past, all that remained was emptiness and stillness, with no clues whatsoever.

The Han family members were also taken aback, staring blankly at the blue-robed man who had suddenly appeared, unsure whether he was friend or foe.

Amidst the dust, Han Chengzong struggled to get up, but Han Liyan, taking advantage of her uncle's dazed state, quickly broke free and ran to support the old man.

Inside the courtyard, you could hear a pin drop.

Only the extremely cold and mysterious Yin energy continued to spread quietly.

When Qiu Peng heard this person repeat his humiliating words to Han Chengzong, an inexplicable anger surged up.

But more than anything, it was a deep-seated, indescribable panic.

He forced himself to remain calm and asked in a trembling voice, "Who are you? Do you not intend to become enemies with Yu Jin and Chi Xia, two Golden Core cultivators from Aolai Kingdom?"

Upon hearing this, Master Xuan Gu didn't even lift his eyelids, but simply let out another soft "heh," a smile that wasn't quite a smile.

The already chilling aura around the sleeves of the robe suddenly thickened, like a tide washing over sand, swallowing up all the spiritual energy and oppressive power around it.

A thin layer of ice crystals, visible to the naked eye, instantly spread across the ground.

Qiu Peng's voice abruptly stopped. His eyes widened, his face drained of color, and his mouth opened and closed in vain, but no sound came out.

It was as if thousands of ice snakes were coiling around his body, hissing at his neck.

He clearly felt that, faced with this chilling aura, he was truly like a creature whose life was being held in the grasp of an invisible giant hand, with no chance of even struggling...

Ants.

Master Xuangu quietly watched Qiu Peng struggle in vain, on the verge of collapse.

His face remained gloomy and aloof, but a strange ripple of almost gratified joy involuntarily rose in his heart, even with a hint of triumphant satisfaction:

"Relying on one's cultivation level to crush those of lower levels, making their life or death entirely in one's hands... this is the normal state of a cultivator like us, and it should be the way we are."

Instead of being like Brother Xuanling, who treats those of the same level as nothing and kills those above him like ants…

Thinking of this, Xuan Gu felt that the melancholy that had accumulated in his heart due to the repeated blows he had suffered from his Daoist brother Xuan Ling had quietly dissipated.

"It's good that it's normal... Only in this way can I have made the golden core I've cultivated for so many years worthwhile."

As expected, it wasn't that my cultivation went wrong, but rather that Brother Xuanling... was simply an anomaly.

Thinking this way, and looking at Qiu Peng who couldn't even struggle, Xuan Gu felt inexplicably relieved.