At the foot of Spirit Mountain, demonic aura surged like a tide, Buddhist light and black mist intertwining into a chaotic tapestry of light and shadow.
Jiang Liuer stood shoulder to shoulder with Sun Wukong, with the vast procession of Western Journey protectors behind them.
The Bull Devil King carried his Mixed Iron Staff over his shoulder. Little White Dragon had taken the form of a young man in white, while the two demon kings, Azure Lion and White Elephant, stood meekly with lowered heads. There were also the demons they had converted along the way—several thousand in all.
They had not come to worship. They had come to overturn Spirit Mountain of the Western Heaven.
"Hand over the scriptures, and you shall not be killed!"
Jiang Liuer's voice no longer held the gentleness it had when he preached scriptures in the past. Instead, it carried an unquestionable dominance.
In one hand, he rolled Buddhist prayer beads; in the other, he gripped a precept blade. Beneath his cassock, the tattooed character for "Virtue" on his back faintly glimmered.
"Buddhas of Spirit Mountain, you use the scriptures as bait and the myriad beings as chess pieces, scheming against us throughout the Western Journey. Today, this poor monk has come to seek justice for all living beings.
Hand over the scriptures, and your Daoist Tradition may yet endure. Refuse, and do not blame this poor monk's blade for showing no mercy!"
Sun Wukong grinned behind him, spinning the Golden-Hooped Staff in his hand.
"Master's right. This Old Sun has long found Spirit Mountain an eyesore.
What Western Paradise? It's plainly a den of demons!"
Within Thunderclap Monastery, Fake Jieyin, Fake Zhunti, and Fake Tathagata wore faces as dark as iron.
They sensed the aura of the Western Journey party, the battle formation