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

The rumbling thunder that had lasted for so long finally faded away, its echoes dissipating into the wind.

More than a hundred Thunder Riders stood silently, weapons in hand, arrayed in eight directions. Their armor was covered in dust, their auras still surging, and the cold glint of their swords and spears indicated that they had just been through a fierce battle.

In the center, the Bone Demon King, with disheveled hair and covered in blood, knelt on the ground, his demonic aura dissipating. His black robe was tattered, revealing the hideous scorch marks beneath.

He struggled to lift his head, his eyes still flashing with a fierce light, mixed with resentment and a hint of fear. His lips moved as if he wanted to speak.

Yang Feng ignored him, not giving him a chance to speak, and simply raised the dark steel whip in his hand, still crackling with lightning, once more.

The whip has an ancient and simple design, with hidden dragon and tiger patterns. At this moment, it emits lightning and hisses.

The next instant, the steel whip fell, a deep, dark light accompanied by a short, sharp sound of wind being cut.

"puff."

With a muffled thud, the Bone Demon King's hideous head shattered on the spot, like a fruit struck by a heavy blow.

Before the red and white substances could even splatter, they were all burned into blue smoke by the intense lightning crackling around the whip.

The headless corpse swayed, then collapsed forward, its tattered black robe slumped to the ground like a dying giant raven.

Yang Feng sheathed his Thunder Whip, his gaze sweeping over the lifeless corpse of the demon king on the ground, then over the thunder riders standing solemnly around him, and said in a deep voice:

"The True Lord has ordered that once this matter is settled, we must quickly proceed to the Western Sea to reunite."

Having said that, he didn't look at the corpse on the ground again. He pulled on the reins, and the thunder beast beneath him raised its head and neighed loudly, transforming into a blazing bolt of lightning and soaring into the sky ahead.

More than a hundred thunder riders followed closely behind, streaks of lightning flashing across the sky before disappearing into the azure expanse in an instant.

…………

…………

Jieyang Mountain, Zhenyun Temple.

The room was filled with a rich, lingering aura of blood and qi.

The dark red alchemy furnace had now turned into a pile of charred fragments, and the spiritual fire beneath it had long since died out.

Only wisps of pungent blue smoke remained, mixed with the thick smell of blood, making one want to vomit.

Luo Daoren slumped to the ground, his Daoist robe disheveled, his hair loose, and his face ashen.

He stared blankly at the mess on the ground, muttering repeatedly in a dry voice:

"The Way has come to an end... The Way has come to an end... Centuries of quiet cultivation, all for naught in a single day... The Way has come to an end..."

Chen Jiao stood quietly in the room, the Tai Chi Sword already sheathed, with scattered red flames still flickering around him, clearly highlighting the contours of his profile.

He raised his hand in a gesture of invitation.

The windows of the alchemy room opened by themselves without any wind, and the cool mountain air outside slowly flowed in, turning into wisps of breeze that seemed almost tangible, and swept through the room.

The lingering blood energy, upon encountering this wind, hissed and quickly dissipated like ice and snow in spring.

In a short while, the oppressive atmosphere in the room was cleared away, leaving only a faint smell of burnt medicine and the fresh scent of the mountain breeze.

Chen Jiao looked at Luo Daoren, who was emaciated and whose Daoist spirit was on the verge of collapse, and remained silent in contemplation.

He recalled that in Tongyou City, the three of them sat and discussed the Dao, and there was indeed a sense of camaraderie in their discussion.

Although Luo Daoren was timid and fearful of his life, and was controlled by demons and evil spirits, he was indeed somewhat devoted and learned in the path of alchemy. He was not a villain or a lackey.

"Fellow Daoist Luo, the crows have been killed, the furnace is destroyed but the people remain."

You did not personally refine that blood pill, nor did you help it to abduct and kill people. Most of the sins here belong to that dead demon.

"Fellow Daoist, you were bound by others not of your own volition. Now that the shackles are removed, all past delusions should be severed. The path of cultivation still exists; how can it be said to be over?"

Luo Daoren trembled, turned his eyes to Chen Jiao, smiled bitterly, and said:

"Delusion? Yes, all are delusion. Clinging to life and fearing death is delusion, being obsessed with alchemy is delusion, harboring wishful thinking is also delusion..."

One wrong step leads to another, clouding the heart of the Way and tainting the true spirit; how can one then speak of the Way again?

Fellow Daoist Jiangxiao, there's no need to comfort this old Daoist.

The old Taoist knew he was a coward, clinging to life and afraid of death. The Corpse King threatened him with the lives of the disciples and the creatures below the mountain, and then tempted him with great rewards…

The old Taoist priest, half-heartedly, agreed to the task of opening the furnace. Any talk of being controlled or coerced was nothing but self-deception, a fig leaf to cover up his own cowardice!

As Luo Daoren spoke, he became increasingly agitated, clutching his disheveled white hair with both hands, his voice filled with sorrow:

"The blood and qi in this furnace are all formed from the lives of innocent living beings!"

The old Taoist priest personally started the fire and mixed the medicinal properties. With each addition of medicinal herbs, it was as if one could hear the wailing of wronged souls!

The heart of the Dao has been corrupted by demons, and the foundation of the Dao has been defiled! Even if a true person forgives, how can Heaven forgive? How can one's own heart find peace?

That's all... truly all!

By the end, tears streamed down his face, his body hunched over like a shrimp, curled up among the fragments of the alchemy furnace, trembling all over.

The last vestiges of the Taoist's integrity seemed to have crumbled along with it.

Chen Jiao stood still, watching Luo Daoren completely collapse, his inner demons deeply ingrained and unable to extricate himself.

Knowing that his inner turmoil could not be resolved with words, and that the pain of his path collapsing could not be easily soothed by outsiders.

He wasn't good at comforting or persuading people; the fact that he said those two words already showed he was mindful of past friendships. Ultimately, one's path in life is a personal matter; others can slay external demons, but they can't exorcise the demons within.

Chen Jiao shook his head slightly, then said no more and turned to leave the alchemy room.

A slight chilly mountain breeze wafts in from outside, carrying the fresh scent of grass and trees, cleansing the lungs of any lingering impurities.

Under the corridor, Song An strode over. This disciple of the Songyue Sword Sect still had an excited look on his face.

Upon seeing the real person emerge, he quickly composed himself, stepped forward several paces, and bowed deeply to Chen Jiao, his tone filled with sincere admiration and excitement:

"Congratulations, Master! You have slain the Dragon Lord with your sword, incinerated the Corpse Demon, and averted the collapse of a nation. Your deeds are truly immeasurable!"

Chen Jiao nodded slightly, without saying a word.

Song An straightened up and hurriedly said, "Master, Her Majesty the Queen is waiting outside the temple gate right now."

It is said that the real man acted righteously, turning the tide and saving the country from peril, a favor akin to being reborn.

His Majesty dared not be negligent with ordinary etiquette, so he personally went to the roadside to seek an audience with the immortal countenance.

We juniors dare not act on our own initiative, and have come to report to the Master for clarification.

Upon hearing this, Chen Jiao looked past the eaves of the corridor and towards the direction of the gate.

A mountain breeze swept by, carrying the faint sounds of people and the solemn atmosphere of a ceremonial procession from afar.

He hesitated for a moment, then said, "Since the ruler of a country has come in person, the proper etiquette cannot be disregarded. I will arrive shortly."

He looked up at the sky.

As dusk settles and the clouds drift and swirl, the setting sun paints the distant mountains with tranquil, long golden edges.

Light clouds drift across the sky, and a gentle mountain breeze blows.

The raging torrents of the Tunlei River and the blood and fire of Jieyang Mountain seem to have settled down with the twilight, returning to this ancient tranquility.

The man stood still for a moment, letting the mountain breeze flutter his sleeves.

After a long while, he finally took a step and walked out of the temple, his figure disappearing into the deepening twilight, shattering the remaining light on the ground.

…………

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Songyue Sword Sect, main hall.

The palace is deep and secluded, with jade pillars supporting its roof.

Beneath the high-hanging plaque inscribed with "Pine and Bamboo Reflecting the Moon," a bright full moon is carved on a jade disc in the center, its clear light flowing and making the entire hall feel cold.

As dusk approached outside the window, the outlines of the distant mountains gradually blurred, with only the faint sound of the pine trees echoing through the air, making the hall even more solemn.

The news that Jiangxiao Zhenren had flattened Xuanri Mountain and killed four Golden Core cultivators had spread like wildfire throughout the surrounding area.

At this moment, only three Golden Core cultivators—Shouyue, Shouqing, and Shoulie—were in the hall.