"Amitabha."
Maitreya received only a solemn Buddhist invocation in reply.
"Heh heh heh."
"From the very beginning, my odds of victory were less than ten percent."
"But sometimes, isn't that ten percent chance exactly what people gamble on?"
"If I lose, it means I, Maitreya, am inferior to you."
"If I win—"
"Then I, Maitreya, will be the master of this world."
At this moment, Maitreya's gaze was exceptionally sharp.
Wasteland.
A clay Buddha statue suddenly began to crack. In the end, a young monk stepped out from within the statue, carrying an air of elegance.
Most importantly—
The aura emanating from him was clearly at the level of the Six Imperials.
"Has it already begun?"
"Maitreya."
"You have no chance of winning."
Shaking his head regretfully, the young monk clasped his hands behind his back and strode forward. After only a few steps, he vanished into the Wasteland, his destination unknown.
As the young monk departed, the seemingly ordinary temple behind him collapsed with a thunderous crash, burying everything beneath dust.
Spirit Mountain.
The young monk's figure flashed past, and in an instant, he appeared at the Merit Pool in the rear mountain, holding an alms bowl in his hand.
He had no intention of concealing his aura. Almost the moment he appeared at Spirit Mountain, it caused an intense disturbance.
All the Buddhas gathered at the rear mountain immediately.
They stared at the young monk above the Merit Pool, their eyes filled with shock and disbelief.
"B-Buddha?"
"Weren't you dead?"
Even Dharma Body Buddha, with his calm temperament, could not help taking a deep breath before slowly asking.
"Yes."
"I've been dead for over a thousand years."
Buddha spoke casually, but his expression was somewhat unpleasant. He stiffly turned his head toward the Buddhas, pointed at