The Monk Came from the Western Lands Desert

Han Old Ghost, an elder of Spirit Ruins Grotto-Heaven, possessed twelve mid-grade Greenwood Swords and a mid-grade magical robe.

Hidden within his Sea of Bitterness were a pitch-black beast-skin talisman, two glittering Thunderfire Pearls, and a blood-colored wooden puppet. Could it be a Substitute Puppet? After the main body suffered grievous injury, it could sacrifice one of the user's organs to offset a deathly calamity.

Not only that, he also had an Azure Wood Ruler, far superior in quality to the Green Wood Sword Jiang Ming used. It was a high-grade magical artifact.

It had to be said that this old bastard had quite a few trump cards on him.

"There is a road to heaven, yet you refuse to take it. Hell has no gate, yet you insist on barging in. You dare threaten me? Have you even considered whether the three of you have the qualifications?"

Elder Han had already lost his patience. These three had just gone through a battle, fighting the Four-Winged Centipede and several Two-Winged Centipedes. Even with their numbers, they could not have come through it unscathed.

If he did not strike now, when would he?

The next moment, with a thought from Elder Han, all twelve Greenwood Swords were summoned at once. They traced mysterious trajectories, sealing off every direction and trapping the three of them within.

This old fellow had acquired a Beast-Skin Book of Array-Pattern Inheritance. Once his twelve Greenwood Swords were deployed, they could form a simple Sword Formation.

His attack was not over. The next moment, he threw a fist-sized, glittering Thunderfire Pearl into the Sword Formation.

Boom!

From trapping the enemy with the Sword Formation to detonating the Thunderfire Pearl, it had all happened in one seamless motion.

"Not good. A Thunderfire Pearl."

"Ah—"

"You bastard—"

Amid three different roars and agonized screams, the three of them had naturally fallen for it.

Even Life Spring cultivators were unwilling to take the attack of a Thunderfire Pearl head-on.

Elder Han had paid quite a price to obtain those two Thunderfire Pearls, trading away some ancient objects he had acquired over the years while exploring ruins.

At the instant of the explosion, the twelve Greenwood Swords flashed with an eerie jade-green radiance. The lights fused together, weaving simple patterns into a barrier of light, making the twelve swords seem to merge into one whole for a brief moment.

As a result, within that enclosed space, the Thunderfire Pearl's power was unleashed to the fullest. Once the blazing golden lightning and silver flames faded, the armor on the three people had long since been burned through and melted away.

Their bodies were covered in wounds interwoven with the power of lightning and fire, pierced through by fragments from the Thunderfire Pearl's explosion. Some wounds had even gone straight through their bodies.

All their hair had been burned away, their scalps charred black. Even their ears had melted, leaving them in a miserable state.

However, the old woman appeared to be in the best condition.

"Puff, puff, puff—"

At that moment, Elder Han's attack continued. The twelve Greenwood Swords shot out streams of sword qi, completely drowning the three people inside.

Yet the three inside still had the strength to resist. Some summoned Star-Pattern Iron Nails, some summoned Obsidian Iron Spears, and even the old woman summoned a Star-Pattern Iron Mirror and an Obsidian Iron Ritual Sword.

The weapons they had originally held were already refined into molten iron by the earlier explosion.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The sounds of magical artifacts colliding rang out without end.

In particular, the old woman's Star-Pattern Iron Bagua Mirror shot out waves of deep blue light, freezing the incoming sword light, while she gripped the Obsidian Iron Ritual Sword and tried to carve out a path.

Clearly, Elder Han would not let her escape so easily. Driven by his mana, the twelve Greenwood Swords bloomed with ghostly jade-green light. The patterns engraved upon their blades seemed to come alive, writhing like maggots.

Then, the twelve Greenwood Swords shone brilliantly, green and sinister, brimming with murderous intent. Each sword expanded with the wind, becoming a thirty-foot giant sword as they all slashed toward the center.

Elder Han himself was wreathed in green flames. Even his mana was jade-green. He had already summoned the Azure Wood Ruler, gripping it in his hand as he charged toward the three in the center.

"Amitabha Buddha. Fellow Daoists, please heed this poor monk's advice. When will vengeance upon vengeance ever end? Lay down your butcher's knives and become Buddhas on the spot."

At that moment, Jiang Ming finally decided to make his entrance. He had decided to make more friends. These fellow Daoists, who were originally meant to die in the original plot, could now be saved. As for how long they would live afterward, that had nothing to do with Jiang Ming. He only made friends and collected corpses when he came across them; there was no warranty included.

Using the Seventy-Two Transformations, Jiang Ming transformed into a gifted cultivator of the Ancient Monk Lineage whose imprint had once been recorded in his God-given ability. Unfortunately, that person had died before he could grow stronger. Jiang Ming vaguely remembered that the place where he had died seemed to be a Purple Bamboo Grove.

In his youth, that person had also possessed extraordinary talent, born with two primal Dao Patterns, both supreme inheritances of the Ancient Monk Lineage. One was Buddhland in the Palm, and the other was Buddha's Light Illuminates All. Jiang Ming had likewise borrowed sixty percent of that person's treasure arts and secret techniques at the same cultivation realm.

Jiang Ming was almost certain that the world where the Zhu Yan, which had eventually reached the Supreme level, had lived was likely Perfect World. However, the era in which it had existed was probably the Immortal Ancient Era.

That was because the final scene he saw while inheriting the treasure art—the heavens collapsing, the earth splitting apart, and the sun, moon, and stars falling—looked like the scene from the Immortal Ancient Era when the Primordial Ancient Realm had been shattered into pieces by the combined assault of the Immortal Kings of the Exotic Domain.

"Who are you?"

Elder Han stared at Jiang Ming with extreme vigilance and a tense expression.

Jiang Ming's appearance gave the three people inside a chance to catch their breath. They tore open a gap in the blockade of the twelve Greenwood Swords and rushed out. Then, without even looking back, all three fled. They did not even dare leave behind a single harsh word. They had nearly died, and staying alive was what mattered. How could they dare remain?

"This poor monk's Dharma name is Sanzang. I came from the Western Lands Desert and am heading to the Eastern Wasteland to seek an emperor and scriptures. Passing by this treasured temple, I saw that you possess considerable spiritual wisdom, Fellow Daoist. Why not join my Buddhist School?"

Jiang Ming looked solemn and dignified. He had torn off one sleeve of his white hemp robe and wore it with one shoulder bare, instantly taking on the appearance of an ascetic monk.

Combined with the many tears in his clothes from rushing here along the way, he truly looked somewhat like a monk from the Western Desert.

More importantly, the ancient monk he had transformed into was only around thirteen years old, yet he had the towering body of a young man. He was handsome and vigorous, his blood and qi abundant, as though one were facing a furnace of vitality. Elder Han was overcome with envy. "What a perfect body. If it were mine, how wonderful would that be?"

"Hehe, Fellow Daoist, you jest. This old man is already decrepit. What spiritual wisdom could I possibly have? You should look elsewhere."

Elder Han did not believe Jiang Ming's nonsense at all. He was nearly dead of old age and could not even leave the Eastern Wasteland, let alone travel to the Western Desert. He spoke with a forced smile.

"In that case, this poor monk shall take his leave. Hmm, what a pleasant fragrance. No, something here is fated with this poor monk. I wonder whether Fellow Daoist would be willing to part with it at some pain."

Jiang Ming was preparing to leave when his nose twitched. He looked at Elder Han and spoke.

"Fellow Daoist, do not go too far. The spiritual medicine here determines whether this old man can extend his life. If you wish to seize it from me, then it will be a fight to the death."

Elder Han immediately turned hostile, his voice hoarse and vicious.

"Amitabha Buddha. A monk does not take what others cherish, but this poor monk cannot make this trip for nothing. I saw a beast-skin book in Fellow Daoist's Sea of Bitterness. Its Formation Patterns are quite unique. Could Fellow Daoist lend it to this poor monk for a look?

"Rest assured, this poor monk will not take it away. I will simply study it by your side and naturally return it once I am done."

Jiang Ming continued smiling without anger, proposing a new idea. He was like an irritating plaster that could not be peeled off, quite befitting the image of an eminent monk.

Hearing Jiang Ming's words, Elder Han was first horrified. The beast-skin book was a treasured opportunity he had collected—how had this fellow seen it? Then, after hearing Jiang Ming finish, he wished he could draw his sword and chop him into pieces on the spot.

"How about this? I'll show Fellow Daoist a little something, to prove that if I truly wanted to rob you, everything you have would already be mine."

Jiang Ming glanced at Elder Han. He knew this old bastard had developed killing intent toward him, but he had come to make friends. How could he kill him?

In the future, this close friend of his would die at Ye Fan's hands. The reward from that damned system was what Jiang Ming needed.

How could the benefits from killing someone compare to the benefits from having him die because of Jiang Ming?

Eh? No, that was wrong. Pah, pah, pah! I'm not some Heavenly Lone Star. Even if my Fate Pattern is that of a Calamitous Star, it's only because that damned system dragged me into it.

As Jiang Ming spoke, he raised his hand. Mysterious Dao Patterns surfaced on his palm, golden light of God flowing through a hazy brilliance. It contained sixty percent of the power of the inborn Buddhland in the Palm Supreme Treasure Art possessed by that genius of the Ancient Monk Lineage.

Before Elder Han's eyes, Jiang Ming's palm suddenly surged with dense power of space. With a reach of his hand, it extended three miles away, expanding to a hundred zhang and descending from above.

A Three-Tailed Golden Pheasant with three hundred years of cultivation, which had just arrived to spy on the scene, gave a cry. Its three tails emitted tricolored light, slashing toward the palm like sharp swords. Yet the attack vanished like a stone sinking into the sea, producing only a faint glittering ripple.

The next moment, the Three-Tailed Golden Pheasant screamed as Jiang Ming directly seized it in his hand and captured it.

"Well? Fellow Daoist, what do you think of this Buddhland in the Palm of mine? Is it worthy of your regard?"

Jiang Ming looked at Elder Han with a smile.

He was actually greatly astonished inside. If not for his special physique, which gave him more than ten times the true essence of his previous life at the same cultivation realm, he really could not have put on such a display.

The consumption was rather high. One-third of the true essence in his body had been used up at once.

"Er, Master truly is an outstanding figure of the Buddhist School, a Buddha-son caliber talent. This old man is deeply impressed."

After witnessing the power of that palm strike, Elder Han's back was soaked with sweat.

He had encountered that Three-Tailed Golden Pheasant before and had not dared fight it at all. The tricolored sword lights from its tails were extremely terrifying and could cleave apart the Sword Formation formed by his twelve Greenwood Swords.

Yet now, it had been captured by this little monk without any ability to resist.

In other words, this little monk could clearly have robbed him, but he was unwilling to do so. Elder Han had no choice but to agree.

As the saying went, refusing a toast only meant drinking a forfeit.

Circumstances were stronger than people.

When under someone else's eaves, one had no choice but to bow one's head.

"Fellow Daoist, I am willing to take out the Ancient Beast-Skin Scroll for you to examine."

Elder Han spoke reluctantly.

"Very good. Fellow Daoist, you truly possess considerable spiritual wisdom. This poor monk did not misjudge you.

"Rest assured, this poor monk will not take your things for nothing. From now on, we are friends. How about I treat you to some chicken?"

Jiang Ming said happily.

The monks of this world needed to cultivate. There was no such thing as vegetarianism.