"Mercy, mercy."
Great Monk Yunming pressed his palms together and closed his eyes without speaking.
Buddhist Dharma differed from Daoist arts.
Daoist arts were natural as a cloud-dragon reaching out with its claws. As the saying went, one saw the divine dragon's head but never its tail; grasp but a wisp of its true intent, and it could be called a "minor achievement."
Buddhist Dharma was like building a seven-tiered pagoda amid the Sea of Bitterness. Every brick and tile had to be set with utmost care; not the slightest error could be tolerated. If one were careless in the least, then it became, "Even the Dharma should be discarded, let alone what is not Dharma," and one would cultivate into wild-fox Chan.
As for the flavor of it, and which was superior or inferior, only cultivators themselves knew.
Monk Yunming led the way. Though both feet trod upon the ground, this eminent monk had long since activated the Buddhist School's Divine Foot Passage, possessing the ability to shrink the earth into inches. One step carried him dozens of miles.
Compared to ordinary flight, it held a few more mysteries besides.
As they proceeded, a dark-faced divine general approached from ahead. A sword scar had been cleaved into his golden helmet, and one eye was slightly shut. He no longer bore a solemn and precious countenance.
Behind him, Diwu Lun stroked his chin as he walked with outrageous swagger, chin high and chest thrust out.
"Oh? Isn't this Senior Brother Cui and little devil Yang? Haha, you broke through the wager too and got someone to guide you?"
Seeing them, Diwu Lun waved. Without caring whether the divine general was willing, he flashed forward directly, employing an exquisite Sword Escape technique to become a streak of sword light and burst