The Great Void Beholds the Silkworm, a Host of Demons Bars the Way

Call!!!

The strong wind dispersed the dust in the air, which was the first thing swept away.

The fine grime on the old doors and windows was shaken off and flew outwards, and the weeds in the yard all lay low.

The nuns, including Tingyue, had their robes flapping and rustling in the wind.

Chu Tianshu was merely transmitting his internal energy into the silkworm cocoon, yet the sheer power of it was enough to leave the nuns Spirit-Shocking and unable to control themselves.

Han Baiyu was both pleased and worried upon seeing this.

There was good news, though; it seemed Zhang Yining could indeed be saved.

The worry is that the commotion is too great.

The loud noise indicates that the poison produced by Muscle-Tendon Changing Classic and Seven Stars Palm is extremely stubborn. After all, it is a top-level martial arts technique of the time, and a variant of a rare poison synthesized from the internal energy of two masters.

Chu Tianshu's skill was about to disperse it, resulting in a very fierce confrontation.

If this situation continues for a long time, I'm afraid it might alert those two old monsters, the monk and the beggar.

"Old Chu, how long do you expect this healing process to take?"

Han Baiyu quickly said, "If it takes a while, could you give me a token so I can go and rescue Granny Putuo and the others first? That way, I'll have an extra helper."

Upon hearing this, Chu Tianshu turned his head and looked at him, a thoughtful expression flashing between his brows.

Choke!!

He gripped the longsword in his left hand, drew the divine sword from its sheath, gave a few words of instruction to the hilt, and then suddenly threw the sword.

The sword light flew from the courtyard and shot straight into the sky.

The nuns looked up and saw a sliver of silver light, as graceful as a dragon, circling briefly in the clouds before heading straight into the city.

Since adopting the new Weapon Soul Art in the Great Tang world.

The Sanqi Divine Sword has already acquired the ability to fly autonomously, driven by the Weapon Soul.

Chu Tianshu's throw was merely an initial boost, allowing it to fly faster when it took off.

Han Baiyu could tell at a glance that his lightness skill was no match for that sword.

"You also have minor injuries, so there's no need for you to travel. My sword will go to the Spirit-Calming Hall and explain the situation."

Chu Tianshu left a word of advice, then turned his gaze to the silkworm cocoon, concentrating on increasing his power.

High in the sky, a silvery light appeared and disappeared.

In the Spirit-Calming Hall, Yu Danxia was slowly pacing in the storeroom, taking stock of winter clothes, when she suddenly sensed something and came to the courtyard.

A streak of silver light plummeted down.

Buzz!!

The Sanqi Divine Sword hovered in front of her, stopping so abruptly that layers of energy rippled around its blade.

Yu Danxia looked surprised and reached out her hand. As soon as her fingertips touched the hilt of the sword, she felt the sword's whistling sound gather into resounding words in her heart.

"Quickly kill Meteor, release Putuo, dispose of the prisoners according to his intelligence, and come to meet us with your swords!"

at the same time.

It is Hundred Li outside the Hang Prefectural City.

The Qiantang River flows ceaselessly day and night, its surging waves crashing against the rocks with a thunderous roar.

There was a large grove of trees on the riverbank, but it had all been cleared away, leaving wood chips, leaves, tree roots, and stumps everywhere.

Hundreds of people were scattered throughout the woods. Apart from the monks, the rest were all members of the Beggars' Sect' Sect, but they did not all look like beggars.

Only a few dress up as beggars, wear a few patches, and their clothes are still clean and thick. The rest of the people, some are like members of a wealthy family, and some are like tycoons.

The Shaolin monk sat cross-legged inside the golden-red gauze-draped palanquin.

The Beggars' Sect' Sect leader, Yang Muren, sat on a wooden stake opposite him, holding a jar of fine wine.

The monk wasn't actually bald.

He hadn't groomed his hair for years; his thick, gray hair was disheveled, his skin was dark, his eyes were sunken with whites and red pupils, and his cheeks were hollow, making him look like a withered tree.

Wearing a yellow monk's robe and a golden-red kasaya did nothing to make him appear warm and gentle; instead, it made his skin look even colder and harder.

In his large, bony, and thin left hand, he played with a string of Bodhi seeds.

Bodhi seeds are bluish-black in color, rough and crumbly, hard and cool to the touch.

This person, whose Buddhist name was "Bu Sha" during the Southern Song Dynasty, was originally a martial monk at the Shaolin Bodhidharma Academy. Even then, he had a cold and aloof appearance, giving off an impression that strangers should not approach him.

Because of his unattractive appearance, when he went out on business with his senior brother, people in the martial arts world always praised his senior brother for having a Buddha-like appearance, but they dared not be too familiar with him and only dared to mention it briefly.

Busha silent but harbored jealousy, which was seen through by the Mongol Yuan people, who then bribed him to attack and kill Southern Song.

After the Yuan Dynasty established its rule, Kublai Khan bestowed upon him the Buddhist name "Dusha" and appointed him as the Protector Monk of the Nation.

Those who wanted to praise him offered many interpretations of his new Buddhist name.

In reality, Kublai Khan was simply reminding him not to forget his jealousy.

"I have perused the Shaolin Muscle-Tendon Changing Classic, and this skill indeed integrates the martial arts traditions of India and the Central Plains, possessing both the three channels and seven chakras, as well as the twelve regular meridians."

"Use the root chakra (CV1) of the three channels and seven chakras, combined with the Qihai acupoint, as the foundation of the Muscle-Tendon Changing Classic)."

"The orthodox practice involves eliminating the notion of self and others, removing the discriminating mind of equality, and igniting the inner fire (tun) in the root chakra."

"See everyone as you see yourself, without distinction of rank or status. The more strangers you meet, the more you see of your past and future lives. Naturally, you will feel warmth and affection, your inner fire will grow stronger, and your martial arts will reach their peak."

Kublai Khan, dressed in military attire, stood with his back to the palace gate in the Great Hall of Shaolin Temple, uttering these words.

The only one qualified to hear this in the hall was the Monk Busha.

"But this idea of equality is truly absurd, hahahaha!"

"When this method is mastered, even if someone poisons you, you will consider it fate; even if someone refines you with water and fire, or kills you with swords and spears, you will consider it fate. Because all those who harm you will be seen as your past and future lives, and you will not seek revenge."

"All living beings are born into a world where the strong prey on the weak. What's the point of practicing such a divine skill that indiscriminately treats neither good nor evil, wise nor foolish?"

Kublai Khan's tone suddenly shifted to one of admiration.

"And you are quite remarkable. You harbored murderous intent out of jealousy, ignited your inner fire with that murderous intent, and used that murderous intent to drive your Zen practice, yet you did not die from a qi deviation. You are truly gifted."

"But when you achieve great success and become famous throughout the world, how many people will you still be envious of? At that time, your skills will probably regress, and your power will diminish."

"At that time, you will also become numb, bored, and in pain, and I'm afraid you will no longer be able to lead the Zen school for my descendants."

Monk Busha and remained silent at the time.

He thought to himself, "Anyway, there's Kublai Khan. This man is simply a chosen one of heaven. Moreover, he has the legacy of his ancestors and fathers, and his life has been smooth sailing. He is a master of martial arts and holds supreme power. He is truly worthy of envy."

As long as this person lives, he will always have a target of jealousy, and one day he might even be able to kill Kublai Khan.

That must be the Muscle-Tendon Changing Classic, which has reached its pinnacle and become its own school. At that point, whether there is still jealousy or not is not worth caring about.

However, Kublai Khan suffered from blood clashes within his body and died before he reached the Baisui.

Busha indeed found himself in a predicament, his mind gradually becoming numb. He secluded himself in Shaolin, completely unaware of the changes happening in the outside world.

After Kublai Khan's death, neither Shaolin nor the Beggars' Sect' Sect were subjects of the court; at most, they were collaborators with the court.

Until two years ago, Yan Temür approached him.

"Since the revered monk is like a withered tree, why bother about his lifespan? Why not give him to me instead?"

At that moment, Yan Tiemu'er seemed to be thinking of something interesting, and a smile appeared on his face.

"Or, I can use the list of heroes in the world to buy the lifespan of the divine monk. Heroes are priceless, and so is lifespan; it would be a fair trade."

Busha agreed to the deal.

He actually sensed that he only had five years left to live, and then he received a pile of books.

At first, he didn't care, neither about his lifespan nor about those booklets.

But he soon felt the inconvenience and various troubles of aging that came with having only five years left to live.

This made the Monk Busha waver, and as if possessed, he opened those registers.

There was a swordsman from the Mobei who, for ten years, rode a camel and entered the Central Plains three times to fulfill the dying wish of an old friend. Each time he entered the Central Plains, he would kill thirty-six treacherous and wicked officials. The imperial court issued an order to capture him at sea and searched the whole country, but he has not been caught to this day.

There were boatmen on the riverbank who, with a single swing of their arms, killed officials with a long rope, gathered thousands of followers, and roamed the southeast.

Some hunters resisted paying the fur tax. Sixty-seven brothers swore a blood oath, shot down a thousand households with eagle-feathered arrows, sailed down the river, set sail for the sea, and every season rode the wind to raid Qilu.

A man claiming to be surnamed Han and calling himself a sorcerer, had participated in nine rebellions over the past twenty years, traveling thousands of miles, suffering repeated defeats but never giving up. In Central Shu, he used flatbread as a token, hiding a note that read, "Kill the Tartars on the fifteenth of August."

Overnight, the entire Central Shu rebelled, regardless of social status; all followed him, and the world praised him as the first rebel king.

Such examples are too numerous to mention.

Because I have clearly felt my own aging, it is only by Monk Busha that I can so easily appreciate the vividness of the people in the text.

So dazzlingly vibrant!

Being hunted is incredibly humiliating; being besieged is incredibly distressing. Setting sail is already extremely difficult; returning with the wind is even more arduous.

What a bunch of reckless thieves!

What a bunch of people to be envious of.

Yan Tiemu'er was merely experimenting; he probably couldn't predict whether this monk would die of old age at Shaolin or leave Mount Song again.

However, the Monk Busha's jealousy reignited, and he decided to leave the mountain to meet those heroes.

This month, he was originally going straight to Central Shu to find Han, but he met Zhang Yining on the way.

Without needing a second glance, he was certain that this person was worthy of his envy.

It's a pity that this battle wasn't quite satisfying.

An old beggar ruined everything.

Why look at me like that?

The Yang Muren couldn't help but laugh when he saw the boy's white eyes and red pupils.

"Non-Self hadn't intervened, that kid would probably have already taken his wife and escaped. Not everyone is in the mood to fight you to the death."

"Look, even with my help, he still managed to escape."

Busha's voice was hoarse and grating. "He was injured like that, and you used the Seven Stars Poison Palm. Even if he escaped, what difference would it make if he were dead?"

Yang Muren chuckled, "If you truly believe he is dead, why gather the experts from the South who are connected to Shaolin? And why wait here for me to summon the Beggars' Sect' Sect for a massive manhunt?"

Busha's red eyes brightened slightly as he slowly said, "Because that woman is definitely not dead, she—also deserves to be killed."

The Yang Muren was somewhat surprised and shook his head slightly.

"Though her skill is profound, her methods are still immature. She is merely a woman; what is there to speak of?"

Busha sneered, "You, vulgar one, whether you're male or female, how skilled you are in martial arts, isn't always the most important thing. Some people are indeed worthy of respect."

"Is that so?"

The Yang Muren did not argue with him, but simply laughed and said, "Since that's the case, once we find the man, you can have the woman; I only want the man."

"In addition, since I helped you capture the target this time, you also need to help me find someone in Suzhou and Hangzhou who knows the Dragon-Subduing Divine Palms."

The Yang Muren was secretly pleased when he said this.

In order to cultivate his poison skills, he went to Miao Territory to search for the famous "Heavenly Silkworm Demonic Art". However, no one in that lineage of demonic arts had mastered it, and they were unwilling to hand over the secret manual.

That village was destroyed by him that very day, leaving only a few survivors who, no one knows where, escaped with the secret manual.

Upon meeting Zhang Yining, Yang Muren immediately realized that the other party must have some connection with the Heavenly Silkworm Demonic Art.

With the Six Harmonies Method and the Seven Stars Palm, and if one were to also possess the miraculous healing power of the Heavenly Silkworm Art Technique, wouldn't one be able to live a carefree and undisturbed life, watching with amusement as ordinary people struggle for survival and as fortunes rise and fall?

As for the Dragon-Subduing Palm, that was just a knot in his heart from his early years.

Even if the monk refused to help afterwards, the Yang Muren was still satisfied.

The Monk Busha stared at him, his eyes unmoving, it was unclear whether he had seen through his scheme.

"Let's keep sending people out first, and then we'll see what happens when we find them—"

The monk stopped speaking abruptly and looked south.

The Yang Muren had just taken a swig of wine, suddenly turned his head, his pupils seemingly bulging with anger, wine dripping down his beard.

"The potent poison we combined has been activated! Who is it that's trying to expel my Seven Stars Poison?!"

For those who have mastered the art of poison, every single drop of their internal energy is poison to the outside world.

The remarkable effects of highly toxic substances have always been the foundation of their business.

If someone can expel this poison, then a cure can be researched.

The Yang Muren, his expression shifting between anger and rage, his eyes gleaming with a fierce light, stood up, wine jar in hand.

The Monk Busha's lips twitched, his withered face showing a hint of discomfort at large expressions. After a couple of breaths, his scarlet lips gradually parted.

Ha, ha ha ha ha!!

"Old beggar, are you still plotting something?"

The Yang Muren's face grew increasingly grim as he listened to the man's ferocious laughter.

"I, with all my life's cultivation, swear here and now that I will slay this man today!"