Under the moonlight, a lean figure was slowly approaching.
He wore a black monk robe. Aside from a trace of dust, it was spotless, and his breathing was steady. Where was the slightest hint of the bedraggled state of someone who had escaped danger?
If it was not Su Haoran, then who was it?!
"Su... Junior Brother Su?"
"Y-you're not dead?"
"Didn't you go to Crimson Hair Stronghold? How... how did you come back so quickly?"
Everyone present was instantly dumbfounded.
"Haoran..." Abbot Daoming looked at him in surprise. "What... what exactly happened?"
Su Haoran straightened up, his calm gaze sweeping across the crowd. "After this disciple caught up with Crimson Hair Stronghold, I felt it was best to pull out the weeds by the roots, so I stopped by their lair along the way."
"Stopped by... their lair along the way?" The corner of an elder's mouth twitched.
He made it sound as easy as paying a visit to a neighbor's house!
"Then you..."
"This disciple was fairly lucky." Su Haoran seemed to know what they wanted to ask and continued, "Of Crimson Hair Stronghold's three bosses, only one remains now."
As he spoke, he casually tossed the cloth bag he had been carrying onto the ground.
Thud!
The cloth bag rolled several times and came apart. A head, its eyes still wide open in death, rolled out. It belonged to Crimson Hair Stronghold's Second Boss, "Shadow Hand" Liao Fan, whom many present had seen before!
That sinister face was now filled with the terror and disbelief he had felt before his death!
Dead silence!
Before Prajna Temple's Mountain Gate, the entire area sank into a silence as still as death!
One could hear a needle fall!
Everyone stared fixedly at the head on the ground, then lifted their eyes in disbelief to look at the young monk with the calm expression.
Gulp.
Wujing swallowed with difficulty as he stared at Su Haoran, disbelief written all over his face.
Elders Xuanku and Xuanming exchanged glances, each seeing profound shock in the other's eyes!
They had imagined countless possibilities, but this was the one possibility they had never considered!
Alone and unarmed, he had stormed the bandits' den, slain two bosses in succession, then... returned without a scratch?!
"Amitabha..."
After a long while, Abbot Daoming finally drew out a Buddhist invocation. He looked at Su Haoran, and within those eyes as still as an ancient well were both gratification and amazement.
He stepped forward and personally helped Su Haoran up, unable to conceal the excitement in his voice. "Good! Good! Good! Prajna Temple shall produce a true dragon!"
The fact that he said "good" three times showed just how stirred his heart was!
Abbot Daoming swept his gaze over the crowd and declared loudly, "At a time when the sect faced danger, Su Haoran stepped forward and turned the tide, establishing an unparalleled merit! He shall be rewarded!"
He paused, and his voice spread in all directions.
"By my decree! From this day forth, Su Haoran is promoted to a core disciple of Prajna Temple!"
"Furthermore, he is specially permitted to enter the second floor of the Scripture Repository and choose any one secret manual!"
The moment those words were spoken, the crowd erupted once more!
The second floor of the Scripture Repository! The manuals stored there were all Prajna Temple's true supreme arts! Ordinary disciples would never have the chance to see them in their entire lives!
This reward was extravagantly generous!
Yet at this moment, not a single person found it inappropriate. Everyone felt it was only right!
Facing countless gazes filled with awe, envy, or worship, Su Haoran's mind like still water remained undisturbed. He merely pressed his palms together in a calm salute.
"Thank you, Abbot."
The next day, dawn had just begun to break.
Su Haoran sat cross-legged in his monk's quarters and slowly opened his eyes.
The uproar and glory of the previous night had not left many ripples in his heart. His heart was like an ancient well, and the first thing he did was immerse himself in cultivation.
Last night, he had merely glimpsed the threshold of the Breath Concealment Art, yet he had already been able to restrain his furnace-like Qi and Blood until it resembled that of an ordinary person.
After a night of contemplation and cultivation, the moment his thoughts shifted, the circulation method of Qi and Blood within his body instantly changed.
Buzz!
A marvelous sensation surged into his heart.
If before, he had covered a raging flame with something, then now, that flame seemed to merge directly into the air, becoming formless!
The fluctuations of Qi and Blood around him, along with the aura of his spirit and intent, completely vanished at that moment. It was as though he were merely a stone, a piece of dead wood—the most inconspicuous part of the room.
The Breath Concealment Art had reached Initiation!
"So fast!" A trace of surprise flashed through Su Haoran's eyes.
Although this cultivation art was unorthodox, its intricacy was in no way inferior to ordinary high-grade martial arts.
According to the booklet, an ordinary Martial Artist would need at least one or two months of hard work to reach Initiation, yet he had done it in just one night!
Was this the talent of Raw Talent?
When cultivating any technique, he achieved twice the result with half the effort, progressing far faster than ordinary people!
Su Haoran steadied his heart and pushed open the door.
In the early morning temple, quite a few monks were already sweeping the courtyards or hurrying toward morning lessons.
Su Haoran circulated the Breath Concealment Art, erasing all traces of his aura, and walked unhurriedly through the courtyard.
A young monk responsible for sweeping was vigorously wielding his broom, sweating profusely.
Su Haoran passed within a meter of him, yet the monk noticed nothing at all. It was as though there was nothing before his eyes, and he remained focused on his work.
Without slowing, Su Haoran continued onward, passing beside seven or eight monks in succession. Not one of them noticed his existence!
Some walked with their heads lowered, while others talked with companions. Su Haoran was like a gust of wind, a ray of light, naturally overlooked by them all.
Only after reaching the other end of the courtyard did his thoughts shift, and he dispersed the Breath Concealment Art.
Buzz!
The dense, heavy power of Qi and Blood, like that of a furnace, slowly began to emanate once more.
Though it remained restrained, that distinctive aura belonging to a powerhouse could no longer be completely concealed.
"Hm?"
The Martial Monk who had just passed by Su Haoran while conversing with someone suddenly turned around, surprise appearing on his face.
"Senior Brother?" Upon seeing Su Haoran, the Martial Monk hurriedly pressed his palms together in a respectful salute. Then he scratched his head in confusion. "W-when did you get here? How did I not see you just now?"
His companion beside him echoed, "That's right, Senior Brother. Your movement technique is truly elusive as a spirit and as a ghost!"
Su Haoran smiled faintly without confirming or denying it. He merely said calmly, "Perhaps you were too focused."
With that, he strode away, leaving the two monks staring at each other, their hearts full of confusion.
As he walked through the temple, Su Haoran grew increasingly satisfied.
The effects of this Breath Concealment Art were even better than he had imagined!
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