The man in the seat of honor gave a soft hum and slowly opened his eyes. He wore close-fitting clothes and had a lean build, with a silver mask over his face. A long saber lay beside him. "What is it?"
"Reporting to the chief, the sect leader has ordered the Profound Division to thoroughly investigate Golden Mountain Temple and determine whether its abbot is there."
"Understood. You may leave." The man waved his hand lightly, and the shopkeeper below bowed and withdrew. The man was none other than Xuan Yi, chief of the Demon Sect's Profound Division.
Inside an underground palace, several men wearing pale silver masks stood on either side, talking among themselves.
"What do you think the chief summoned us for?"
"The sect leader must have given our Profound Division orders."
"The sect leader's strength is already known throughout the world. Sooner or later, our Demon Sect will unite the world."
"Our Profound Division is finally going to make a move."
A figure suddenly appeared in the underground palace, a silver mask on his face and a long saber on his back. Everyone immediately bowed in greeting. "Greetings, Chief."
The man nodded. "I summoned you because the sect leader has issued orders. We are to find out the current situation at Golden Mountain Temple and whether its abbot is inside."
"Yes! We shall obey the sect leader's orders," everyone answered with a bow.
"This is our Profound Division's first official mission since its establishment. We must carry it out flawlessly and show the other three divisions our strength. If anyone fails to give their all, don't blame me for showing no mercy." A cold gleam flashed in Xuan Yi's eyes.
Everyone on either side voiced their agreement, their expressions turning solemn. Xuan Er, who stood first on the left, stepped forward. "Chief, should we summon Xuan San and Xuan Si back as well?"
"No need," Xuan Yi said calmly. "The eight of us will be enough. Those two have their own missions."
"Get ready. We move at midnight tonight."
As one of the Cangwu Continent's five great sects, Golden Mountain Temple had stood for two thousand years. Its grounds stretched for dozens of kilometers, and the surrounding thousand kilometers fell under its jurisdiction. There were no fewer than ten thousand monks in the temple, and its experts were beyond counting.
In a side room within the temple, a monk lay on a bed, his entire body wrapped in bandages and his breathing very faint. A young monk beside him was grinding medicinal herbs with a pestle, his eyes straying to the monk on the bed from time to time.
The young monk was named Liaoyu. An orphan, he had entered Golden Mountain Temple ten years earlier and had worked in the servants' courtyard ever since. He was dull and taciturn, and even the steward of the servants' courtyard said he had no aptitude for Buddhist understanding. Yet three years earlier, he had unexpectedly met Holy Monk Wutian, who had taken the initiative to accept him as a disciple.
Holy Monk Wutian was the chief of Golden Mountain Temple's Martial Hall and a peerless expert ranked eighth on the Earth Ranking. Becoming the chief's disciple had changed Liaoyu's life overnight. Monks who had once disliked speaking to him now approached him of their own accord, and even those older than him addressed him as senior brother.
But he had not changed the way he lived. Aside from moving into a side hall of the Martial Hall, he still maintained his daily routine of practicing martial arts and chanting sutras, traveling only between the two.
That lasted until an incident half a month ago disrupted his life. Half a month earlier, Liaofan had suddenly carried Holy Monk Wutian back to Golden Mountain Temple, gravely wounded and unconscious. Even the abbot, who seldom appeared, had come to treat him. Half a month had passed, yet Wutian still had not awakened.
For the past half month, Liaoyu had stopped chanting sutras and practicing martial arts. Every day, he ground medicinal herbs without pause, never taking his eyes off Wutian on the bed. Over the years, he had come to regard Wutian as his closest kin. Liaoyu picked up the mortar and was about to go to the side to brew the medicine when he suddenly saw Wutian's hand move and his eyes slowly open.
He hurried to the bedside in two strides and grasped his master's hand. "Master, you're finally awake."
Wutian's eyes slowly focused. He looked at the worried Liaoyu. "I'm all right. Help me go see the abbot."
Liaoyu did not answer. Instead, he ran straight out, all the way to Golden Mountain Temple's main hall. He knocked on the door and called loudly, "Abbot, my master is awake! Abbot! Abbot!"
There was no sound from behind the door. Liaoyu thought for a moment, then ran back toward Wutian's quarters. A middle-aged, bald man now stood before Wutian, a faint sacred light shining from his head.
"Senior brother, you're awake," the man said softly.
"Yes. Thank you for saving me, Abbot." Wutian offered his thanks and tried to rise, but the abbot stopped him with a wave.
"Fortunately, you were lucky enough to survive, and the temple still had one last Great Rejuvenation Pill."
"Abbot, that fiend has indeed reached the mid-stage Martial Sovereign realm. His actual combat strength may even have reached the late-stage Martial Sovereign realm," Wutian said solemnly.
The abbot gave a bitter chuckle. "More than that. I suspect he is close to surpassing Martial Sovereign."
He slowly recounted to Wutian the series of events that had taken place in the East Sea after he lost consciousness.
Wutian's pupils contracted. "That fiend is actually that powerful?" he exclaimed in shock.
"All right, rest well today. We'll discuss the rest once your injuries have healed." As he spoke, the abbot walked out of the room. Liaoyu was standing outside the door. "Take good care of your master."
The abbot looked up at the sky, a ruthless glint flashing through his eyes. Buddhism, too, had the methods of the wrathful vajra. It seemed it was time to move against the Demon Sect.
In the darkness, Golden Mountain Temple's many patrol monks were making their rounds. Several unseen shadows flashed past, unnoticed by the patrolling monks. As they approached Golden Mountain Temple's mountain-protecting formation, each shadow took a stone from a pocket and slowly walked into the formation. A faint ripple passed through it, and the shadows entered without any obstruction.
"The formation-breaking stones the sect leader gave us really are impressive. We can even enter Golden Mountain Temple's mountain-protecting formation as we please."
"Enough. Hurry up and get moving. If anything goes wrong, the chief won't spare us."
The eight figures swiftly split up, heading in different directions.
A figure slowly appeared at the door to Holy Monk Wutian's meditation room. He glanced at the person lying inside, then slowly vanished again. From beginning to end, Holy Monk Wutian inside noticed nothing. Although Wutian's grave injuries had yet to heal, this alone was enough to show that the intruder was far from ordinary.
A figure darted swiftly toward the main hall. Along the way, neither the patrolling monks nor the eminent monks sitting in meditation reacted at all, right up until he approached the main hall's entrance.
A voice suddenly came from inside. "Friend, since you're here, why not come in and sit awhile?"
The figure did not answer. Instead, he immediately retreated, shooting backward. A palm shadow instantly shot from the main hall toward the fleeing figure. The figure also struck out with a palm, and a tremendous boom erupted, waking everyone in Golden Mountain Temple.
In an instant, countless figures rushed out from within Golden Mountain Temple and immediately discovered the many black-clad intruders.
"What foul creature dares trespass in our Golden Mountain Temple?"
"Take this old monk's Vajra Fist!"
"Ten Thousand Flowers and a Thousand Buddhas Palm!"
The figure who had rushed away from the main hall shouted, "Retreat!" The many black-clad men locked in fierce combat with the temple's monks immediately abandoned the fight and sped toward the outside.
"Where do you think you're going?" the temple's monks shouted, trying to stop them. But the intruders were truly swift, and even when wounded, they refused to linger in combat. They were about to escape the temple.
Just then, a finger shot from the main hall toward the black-clad men, accompanied by a resounding voice. "Flower-Picking Finger!"
The black-clad men seemed to have been immobilized, scarcely able to move.