Saint Zhunti's manifestation had descended upon Peach Mountain!
The instant the seven-colored treasure light bore down, all of Peach Mountain fell silent.
The shattered mountain stopped collapsing.
The churning sea of clouds froze in midair.
Even the screams of the hundred thousand soldiers of the Heavenly River Navy caught in their throats as they dropped to their knees, one after another.
Before the Saint's manifestation had even struck, the battlefield at Peach Mountain had already been subdued.
Such was a Saint.
Beneath a Quasi-Saint, all arts bowed their heads.
Nezha gripped his Fire-Tipped Spear, his palm still clamped around the Qiankun Ruler he had just seized.
The ruler shook wildly.
Randeng's face was deathly pale, his Daoist robes torn, his primordial spirit flickering under the searing Self-Manifestation Demonic Flame.
Had he been a single breath slower, that wisp of Primordial Spirit Dao Fire within his primordial spirit would truly have been dragged into Nezha's Demon Flame as an offering to the spear.
But now.
Nezha could no longer move.
It was not that he did not want to.
The sacred light descending from the phantom Seven Treasures Wonderful Tree had already pinned down his demonic body.
The Self-Transforming Demonic Shadow behind him shuddered violently.
Black-and-red Demonic Qi was forced back into his body, inch by inch.
Nezha raised his head and stared fixedly at that manifestation.
"Zhunti."
He gritted his teeth, demonic fire dancing wildly in his eyes.
Deep within the seven-colored treasure light, a Saint's manifestation slowly lowered his gaze.
His face bore an expression of sorrow for the suffering, yet his voice held not a trace of warmth.
"Nezha."
"You were originally the reincarnation of the Spirit Pearl. You should have followed the righteous path of the Mystic Gate."
"Now demonic thoughts have seeped into your bones. You seized Randeng's Spiritual Treasure and wounded his primordial spirit. You have become a scourge upon the Three Realms."
Zhunti's gaze fell on the Qiankun Ruler, the chill in his eyes deepening.
Randeng bore the karma of his position as Deputy Sect Leader of the Chan Sect and was secretly linked to the Western Religion's great rise.
Zhunti had watched this chess piece for a long time.
If Nezha refined away Randeng's primordial spirit today, an entire corner of the Western Religion's future karma would be torn open.
Nezha suddenly laughed.
Blood stained the corner of his mouth, but his smile was colder than the Demon Flame.
"You make it sound so noble."
"Where were you when Li Jing smashed my Divine Temple?"
"Where were you when the Heavenly Court surrounded Senior Brother Yang Jian to kill him?"
"Now that Randeng's suffered a loss, you jump out to enforce justice on Heaven's behalf?"
He raised his Fire-Tipped Spear, inching its point toward Zhunti's Dharma Form.
"Old monk, I'm not buying your act."
Zhunti's gaze darkened.
"Obstinate fool."
As his words fell.
The phantom Seven Treasures Wonderful Tree swept lightly.
There was no thunder.
No deafening crash.
Only a streak of seven-colored radiance descended from the void, aimed straight at the demonic mark between Nezha's brows.
A chill struck the hearts of everyone on Peach Mountain at once.
That streak of radiance fell very slowly.
Yet Nezha knew he could not evade it.
Space was locked.
Karma was locked.
Even his divine soul was locked.
Wherever the seven-colored radiance passed, the Self-Transforming Demonic Qi crumbled, layer after layer.
The demonic shadow behind him threw back its head and roared, only to be pressed steadily backward.
Nezha's arms trembled.
The black-and-red Demon Flame on his Fire-Tipped Spear began to die out as well.
Watching this, Randeng's eyes finally filled with satisfaction.
"Accursed wretch."
"Try acting arrogant again before a Saint!"
Nezha did not look at him.
He only stared at that ever-approaching radiance.
If that sweep landed, his demonic body would shatter.
His primordial spirit would scatter.
The Dao Seed that the Self-Manifestation Technique had only just condensed would also be ground away by the Saint's Great Dao.
I only just returned.
I haven't torn down Li Jing's pagoda yet.
I haven't settled the father-son karma yet.
I haven't fought my way up to the Thirty-Three Heavens alongside Senior Brother Yang Jian yet.
And I haven't even told Master myself that his disciple hasn't disgraced him.
Nezha clenched his teeth until they bled.
He could not accept this.
Utter defiance erupted from the deepest recesses of his remnant soul.
"Master!"
That cry did not travel beyond Peach Mountain.
Instead, it followed the Master-Disciple Karma straight into the Ruined Temple at Guanjiangkou.
Inside the Ruined Temple.
The Dark-Gold Divine Statue stood silently upon the altar.
No incense burned in the Incense Burner.
Yet the instant Gu Changqing opened his eyes, the entire Divine Realm shuddered.
The image of Nezha on the brink of death appeared within his divine soul.
The phantom Seven Treasures Wonderful Tree.
Saint Zhunti's Dharma Form.
Randeng's primordial spirit.
The battlefield at Peach Mountain.
Gu Changqing's gaze was unfathomably deep.
"Zhunti."
"You've finally entered the fray."
He did not rise.
It was not yet time for his true body to appear in the world.
The Saints' true selves sat high beyond the heavens, while Hongjun had merged with the Dao in the Violet Firmament.
Even as a Perfected Grand Unity Golden Immortal, he still could not reveal all his hidden cards.
But Zhunti wanted to erase his disciple through a manifestation.
This was an offense he could not tolerate.
Gu Changqing raised his hand.
Within his palm, the Heavenly Emperor Divine Position Fragment shone with golden light.
The Divine Realm concealed karma.
The system operated silently.
Ten godfiend acupore seeds lit up within his body at once.
Strength.
Space.
Time.
Karma.
Devouring.
Suppression.
Slaughter.
Undying.
Transformation.
Furnace.
Ten strands of Dao resonance converged upon a single finger.
Gu Changqing looked toward Peach Mountain, his voice indifferent.
"My disciple."
"Is not yours to convert."
The next instant.
He thrust out a finger.
There was no divine thunder.
No extraordinary phenomenon.
Only a faint strand of primordial violet light slipped into the void.
Above Peach Mountain.
The seven-colored radiance had already descended to within three inches of Nezha's brow.
Nezha's demonic mark cracked under the pressure.
The Self-Transforming Demonic Shadow was also on the verge of collapse.
Yang Jian stepped forward to shield Yao Ji, the newly formed strength god-demon acupoint within him rumbling wildly.
But the Saint's might weighed upon him, slowing his movement by half a breath.
That half a breath was enough to decide life and death.
Zhunti's Dharma Form lowered its gaze.
"Enter eternal extinction."
The seven-colored radiance descended.
At that very moment.
Buzz!
A slender fissure suddenly opened in the void before Nezha.
A phantom finger wreathed in Primordial Purple Patterns reached out through the crack.
That finger was only the size of an ordinary person's.
Yet the instant it appeared, the Saint's might pressing down from Zhunti's Dharma Form was forcibly driven back three feet.
All the immortals and gods on Peach Mountain looked up at once.
Randeng's pupils abruptly contracted.
"What Dao is this?"
Zhunti's expression changed as well.
He could see that the finger had yet to reach perfection.
Its level of power was nowhere near that of a Saint.
Yet the Dao resonance winding around its tip had briefly evaded the Heavenly Dao's divination.
He could not discern its origins.
Nor could he calculate where it had come from.
Still less could he grasp the karma of the person who had struck.
The phantom Seven Treasures Wonderful Tree shook once more.
Zhunti said coldly, "You hide your head and conceal your tail, yet dare to obstruct me?"
The Primordial Violet Finger gave no reply.
It merely pressed lightly forward.
Clink!
The fingertip touched the seven-colored radiance.
No mountains crumbled or earth split.
No myriad arts shattered.
There was only a clear chime.
The next instant, the seven-colored radiance crumbled inch by inch.
The phantom Seven Treasures Wonderful Tree shuddered violently, and the sacred light sweeping down upon Peach Mountain snapped apart on the spot.
Zhunti's Dharma Form retreated half a step.
The wisp of sacred will descending into Peach Mountain trembled for an instant.
Deathly silence fell over everyone.
The pressure bearing down on Nezha vanished abruptly.
He knelt on one knee atop the clouds, gasping for breath as the Demonic Mark between his brows burned anew.
Yang Jian also raised his head, Primordial Purple Patterns flashing in his eyes.
Yao Ji stared blankly at the phantom finger, her mind so shaken that she could not speak.
The delight on Randeng's face froze completely.
Saint Zhunti's Dharma Form had been stopped?
Even if it was only a manifestation projected from afar.
Even if it was only a beam of sacred light swept forth by the Seven Treasures Wonderful Tree.
It was still a Saint's power!
Yet someone had shattered it with a single finger across the endless void!
Zhunti stared at the Primordial Violet Finger, every trace of suffering vanishing from his face.
"Who are you?"
The Saint's divine sense swept across Peach Mountain.
Across Guanjiangkou.
Across the Earth Veins of the Three Realms.
Yet whenever those threads of karma reached a certain place, an invisible mist cut them off.
The chill in Zhunti's eyes deepened.
"Since when did someone like you appear in the Primordial World?"
The Primordial Violet Finger slowly dissipated.
An indifferent voice, however, rang out above Peach Mountain.
It was not loud.
Yet it reached everyone's heart with perfect clarity.
"My disciples."
"You dare lay a hand on them?"
Boom!
Nezha jerked his head up.
His eyes reddened in an instant.
He knew.
Master had made his move!
Yang Jian clenched his fists and bowed toward Guanjiangkou.
"This disciple, Yang Jian, bows in thanks to Master."
Nezha broke into a grin as well.
His face was covered in blood, but his grin was wild and defiant.
"Zhunti."
"Did you hear that?"
"I've got someone backing me."
"If you want to convert me, ask my master whether he agrees first!"
Zhunti's Dharma Form said nothing.
The seven-colored jeweled radiance slowly gathered behind him.
He knew full well that the finger strike just now could not kill him.
It could not even injure his true body.
Yet the aura of the Dao within it made him feel, for the first time, that he faced a thorny problem.
Such a legacy should not exist within the Heavenly Dao of the Primordial World.
Nor should anyone be able to sever karma right beneath a Saint's eyes.
Zhunti looked at Nezha, then at Yang Jian.
The two youths who should have entered the Tribulation's chessboard were now both held by that invisible hand.
This was no longer merely a matter for the Heavenly Court.
Nor was it merely a matter for the Chan Sect.
Someone was prying at the entire course of the Investiture of the Gods.
Zhunti's voice was low.
"I shall remember this karmic debt."
Nezha sneered.
"Make sure you remember it well."
"Sooner or later, I'll come to the Western Religion to settle the score with you."
Zhunti's Dharma Form gave him a long, penetrating look.
The phantom Seven Treasures Wonderful Tree swept out, gathering up Randeng's Damaged Dao Body and primordial spirit.
Randeng roared in fury and defiance.
"The Qiankun Ruler!"
Nezha raised his hand, and Demon Flame bound the Qiankun Ruler tight.
"You think you can take back something that's landed in my hands?"
The Qiankun Ruler trembled even more violently, only to be suppressed once more by the self-manifestation demonic flame.
Zhunti's Dharma Form's gaze turned cold.
He was about to act again.
Suddenly, higher in the heavens, an ancient aura of the Dao stirred faintly.
A gaze seemed to descend from the direction of the Purple Heaven Palace.
Zhunti stopped.
A breath later.
The seven-colored jeweled radiance enveloped Randeng and slowly withdrew into the void.
Only a single declaration remained, weighing down upon the sky above Peach Mountain.
"Nezha, Yang Jian."
"And the one behind you."
"The Western Religion will be waiting for you."
The void closed.
The Saint's might dispersed.
Only then did the Heavenly Soldiers and Generals on Peach Mountain's battlefield go limp, as though they had crawled back from the brink of death.
Nezha stood atop the clouds, the Qiankun Ruler in his palm finally falling completely still.
He glanced down at it, his smile cold and sinister.
"I've got what Master wanted."
Yang Jian did not smile.
He gazed toward the Thirty-Three Heavens.
The oppressive might of the Imperial Chariot was still approaching from deep within the sea of clouds.
The Western Religion had withdrawn.
The Heavenly Court had not.
Farther away.
In the direction of the Jade Void Palace, a Saint's aura slowly awakened.
Inside the Ruined Temple in Guanjiangkou.
Gu Changqing withdrew his finger, and the Primordial Purple Patterns on the statue's surface flashed and vanished.
The system's notification chime rang out immediately afterward.
[Ding! Your disciple Nezha has encountered suppression by Saint Zhunti's Dharma Form!] [The host protected his disciple from afar and shook a Saint's manifestation, drastically shifting the karma of the Investiture of the Gods!] [Tribulation-tier return will be calculated shortly!]
Gu Changqing slowly raised his eyes.
At the same time.
Inside the Purple Heaven Palace.
Dao Ancestor Hongjun opened his eyes.