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

Before Zhe Leilongjun could ponder this further, Chen Jiao raised his hand and placed it on the side of Xun Ding's ear.

The cauldron trembled slightly, and the ancient patterns lit up one by one. A touch of warm, lustrous blue spread out like water, silently across the river and sky.

The howling wind that had just been howling vanished the moment it touched the void shrouded by Qinghua, like a wild horse returning to its stable or an angry tiger returning to its cage. Its power vanished instantly, and it all transformed into a gentle breeze swirling around the cauldron.

The world suddenly fell silent.

As soon as the wind subsided, the rain stopped abruptly, and the thousands of silvery raindrops hanging from the sky seemed to disappear into thin air.

The turbid river waves below, which had been whipped up and roared by the gale, suddenly lost their momentum.

The alarm bells rang loudly in the mind of the Thunder Dragon Lord.

Before he could activate his magic to summon wind and rain, Chen Jiao rolled up his sleeves, and the Xun Ding shone with a brilliant azure light.

"Waaah."

A low, rumbling sound emanated from the cauldron, initially faint, but soon becoming vast and powerful!

No longer the raging storm of before, but a gentle and peaceful long wind swept out from the mouth of the cauldron and across the river.

A wondrous sight suddenly appeared.

The once surging, unstoppable turbid river was suddenly enveloped by this mighty wind.

With a gust of wind, the raging floodwaters not only could not advance, but were instead carried by the wind and swept back against their original course!

In an instant, the water, aided by the wind, surged forward, and the turbid waves rolled backward in layers.

In the river, the Thunder Dragon King stared in disbelief, his vertical pupils reflecting a terrifying scene.

The Daoist heart, which had endured for a thousand years, was now reduced to nothing but icy coldness.

The water wall, as high as a mountain, flowed against the current into a river. To the horrified gaze of the Thunder Dragon King, it crashed back into the original riverbed, stirring up a hundred-foot-high raging torrent, which in turn caused his enormous dragon body to stagger.

On the Tunlei River, the waves were calm, the water rippled gently, reflecting the slivers of sunlight that were breaking through the gradually dissipating dark clouds.

Only the devastated forests and crumbling rocks on both sides of the river remain, testifying to the horrific upheaval that had just occurred, nearly destroying the entire landscape.

In the distant mountains and forests, countless birds and beasts that had fled in panic due to the flood, and even the mountain spirits and wooden creatures that had gained sentience, all stopped and looked back.

Looking at the suddenly tamed, vast river, and at the azure cauldron in the sky that seemed to hold the reins of power, and the crimson-robed Taoist holding a sword.

He was stunned for a moment.

It has been confirmed that the raging floodwaters have indeed receded, and the wind, rain, and thunder have also quietly subsided. The disorientation of surviving a disaster is gradually being replaced by immense joy.

Birds chirped, beasts bleated, and a faint sobbing sound drifted intermittently on the wind, its tone neither sorrowful nor joyful.

Suddenly, a turtle's head covered with dark green moss emerged from the surface of the river, its small, beady eyes looking around blankly.

Immediately, one by one, the water demon soldiers with shrimp heads, crab brains, fish faces, and gills also cautiously poked their heads out from under the murky water, looking at each other in bewilderment.

A patrolling yaksha approached the tortoise-like figure, lowered his voice, and asked, his tone filled with disbelief and bewilderment:

"Prime Minister, could it be that we've already reached the Western Sea? Otherwise, why is it so calm and peaceful?"

The turtle's beady green eyes slowly turned, first catching a glimpse of the dark blue dragon on the distant river surface, half-submerged and half-floating, no longer displaying any of the aura that had previously stirred up the wind and clouds.

At this moment, the dragon lowered its head, as if it had lost its parents.

Further up, the gaze fell upon the figure of a Taoist priest standing silently in mid-air, holding an ancient sword.

It shuddered, all its hopes instantly turning into a bucket of ice water poured over its head.

"Disaster... disaster..."

The turtle's voice trembled, and it dared not look again, quickly retracting its head underwater.

Only a string of tiny, frantic bubbles and a blurry, urgent whisper remained, exploding in the consciousness of the demon soldiers:

"What are you still looking at! Quickly disperse and find your own way to survive!"

Before the words were even finished, a flurry of splashing and thrashing appeared on the water's surface. Author Hengyang Yanqu's "Journey to the West: Starting with Jingfa Zhenjun" awaits you.

The demon soldiers who had emerged were taken aback at first, but then they realized what was happening. Their faces turned ashen, and they dared not look at the two figures in the air above the river any longer.

With a series of "plop" sounds, they all dived underwater, scattered like birds and beasts, and disappeared without a trace.

It left only ripples, which quickly subsided into the calm of the river surface once more.

Chen Jiao seemed oblivious to the commotion below, merely nodding slightly.

With a flick of his sleeve, the ancient Qingxun cauldron hanging in front of him spun and shrank, transforming back into its exquisite form and hanging at his waist.

The Xun Ding is a treasure of wind virtue, which governs the messages of the eight winds and harmonizes the qi mechanism.

When the wind is calm, the waves will naturally subside. Without its support, even the most turbulent waves are nothing more than a tree without roots, which can be easily calmed with a flick of the wrist.

Chen Jiao lowered his gaze, which fell on the dark blue dragon that seemed to have lost all vitality and was half-floating in the middle of the river.

The ancient sword Taichi in his hand shimmered with crimson light, its tip pointing diagonally downwards, devoid of joy or anger, only pure sharpness remained.

In the middle of the river, the Thunder Dragon Lord slowly raised its head, water droplets sliding down from the furious grooves of its scales.

At this moment, he was completely devoid of his previous arrogance and domineering presence. His vertical pupils were unfocused, and he kept muttering to himself, as if in a dream:

"Years of planning, countless hardships, drawing upon the earth's veins, altering rivers, gathering winds and clouds, seizing the opportune moment..."

With the Western Sea in sight and the Dragon Pearl about to solidify, why? Why were they all lost in a single day?

The timing is right, the location is right, and the power is right, so why is there this variable of yours?

Heaven is not on my side... Justice is unjust...

How stingy! How stingy!

The mournful soliloquy gradually turned into a vehement lament, finally culminating in a desperate, defiant roar to the heavens.

The mournful cry, hoarse and filled with despair and resentment at the end of the road, shook the calm surface of the river.

Before the roar had even subsided, a crimson ray of light quietly emerged from the tip of the Tai Chi Sword.

At first it was just a line, but as soon as it left the sword, it grew longer, transforming into a vast arc of light that stretched across the heavens and earth, and fiercely slashed down towards the dark blue dragon's head that was raising its head and roaring!

Where the sword flashed, the drizzle stopped flowing, and the remaining clouds split in two.

It seemed as if only this crimson trail remained in the world, and at the end of the trail, a pair of cold, vertical pupils that suddenly contracted and were filled with crimson light.

The dragon's body trembled slightly, then split in the middle, the cut surface as smooth as a mirror. The blazing sword intent instantly burned away all life force, and even the demon soul could not escape even a fraction of its power.

Chen Jiao pointed his fingers and gestured, but the Tai Chi Sword did not fly back; instead, it remained suspended above the middle of the river.

The sword shone brightly with crimson light, swelled in the wind, and transformed into a hundred-foot-long crimson rainbow, crashing down towards the main trunk of the Thunder-Swallowing River!

"Swoosh! Boom!"

When the sword touched the river's surface, the vast river was silently sliced ​​open as if it were made of cloth.

The deep riverbed and the outlines of densely packed palaces and pavilions below are now visible.

This is the location of the water palace of the Thunder Dragon Lord.

The next instant, the sword energy surged through the separated waterways and fiercely penetrated the foundation of the water palace.

But then a series of muffled, earth-shattering explosions erupted from the bottom of the river.

Countless crystal-clear glazed tiles, coral walls, and pearl pillars silently crumbled into dust amidst the sword energy.

The entire magnificent water palace, along with the demon soldiers who hadn't managed to escape, collapsed and turned into ruins under the sword that cleaved the river!

The crimson rainbow slowly dissipated.

The separated river waters lost their support and suddenly merged, stirring up towering, turbid waves that completely buried all traces beneath the raging torrent.

Chen Jiao withdrew his hand, and the Tai Chi Sword shrank to its normal size, flying back into his palm with a gentle hum.

He no longer looked at the river surface, which had returned to its turbulent state but whose landscape had changed.

With one step, his figure transformed into a crimson rainbow, soaring through the sky and disappearing into the depths of the clouds in an instant.