Chapter 251: Seeing the Buddha Off to the Western Heaven
As the distance closed, Zhou Yan and Huyan Lei saw over a dozen people, a mix of monks, laymen, and Taoists, their postures varied. Their bodies were covered in dried, brownish blood, indicating they had been dead for some time.
The two dismounted. Zhou Yan approached and examined a monk.
He found no identification documents, but the fatal injuries made his gaze turn cold. The monk, in his thirties, had all his limb joints—knees, elbows, ankles, and wrists—broken.
Great Strength Vajra Finger? Zhou Yan checked them one by one. He found three more monks with broken limbs and hands, while the remaining two monks had died from weapons. Several laymen and Taoists had been killed by unarmed combat.
Huyan Lei: “There are still survivors. There are footprints over here.”
Zhou Yan stood up and looked. The scattered footprints extended from the valley towards the sand dunes to the southwest, disappearing into the yellow sand after more than ten paces.
With a neigh, the Tanlong Treasure Horse appeared on the sand ridge behind Zhou Yan. Zhang Wangyue galloped down on horseback.
“What’s going on?” Zhang Wangyue arrived in the valley and dismounted.
Zhou Yan said, “I don’t know the specifics. The limbs of several monks were broken, and they had no identification documents.”
Zhang Wangyue crouched down to examine a corpse, frowning, “The attacker’s finger techniques are superb.”
Zhou Yan suddenly said, “Could these monks be from the Shaolin Temple of the Western Regions?”
“What makes you say that?” Zhang Wangyue asked.
“When Abbot Ku Cheng was at Shaoshi Mountain, he mentioned arranging for people to go to the Shaolin of the Western Regions to discuss dealing with Huo Gong Toutuo. Could these monks be reinforcements for the Shaolin Temple, but were intercepted by people from the Vajra Sect or the Western Regions Martial World?”
Zhang Wangyue recalled Zhou Yan mentioning the incident where Master Tiancong of the Western Regions Shaolin was besieged and killed by the Vajra Sect outside Wuwei.
“That makes sense.”
“I’ll go and look around again,” Zhou Yan said.
Zhang Wangyue said, “Have Escort Mu bring some people along.”
“Alright, Chief Escort can head to Ten Thousand Beasts Manor first.”
“Okay!”
Zhang Wangyue mounted his horse. The Tanlong Treasure Horse galloped up the sand dune and disappeared on one side of the sand ridge. Shortly after, Mu Nianci arrived with eight people, including escorts, on horseback.
Zhou Yan and Huyan Lei mounted their horses. The group spread out in a fan shape and began searching in the direction where the scattered footprints disappeared.
…
In the late spring twilight, the temperature in the desert Gobi gradually dropped, but the fierce and bloody fight was like boiling water.
Thirty to forty people, wielding blades and weapons, with ferocious expressions, their roars like bloodthirsty beasts, hysterical and awe-inspiring.
“Ku Hui, you can’t escape.”
“Kill Tianlong and Tianxiang first.”
“Use the dark green pellets.”
The clanging of weapons and countless shouts intertwined.
Chan Master Tianlong, the Head of the Dharma Hall of the Western Regions Shaolin, moved like an arrow, darting out from the sandy ground. Several people from the Western Regions Martial World moved to besiege and kill him.
The blood-stained, filthy monk’s robe on Chan Master Tianlong’s body suddenly fluttered. Driven by Internal Energy, his Monk’s Sleeve struck out several times, smashing the incoming flying darts, Bone Piercing Nails, and Locust Stones into pieces. Then, his entire body seemed to turn into a phantom as he charged into the crowd, the sounds of breaking weapons and cracking bones chillingly echoing.
A Swordsman’s figure suddenly appeared above Chan Master Tianlong. The Sword Light from his blade erupted like lightning. To his left, a Spear whistled and thrust forward.
Chan Master Tianlong became like a roaring grey dragon. A dragon shadow flew into the air. He swung his left arm upwards, smashing the steel knife away. With his right hand, his five fingers clamped onto the Swordsman’s face. With a *thud*, the Swordsman’s face was torn off by the Master’s Dragon Claw Hand.
“Ah!” Amidst hysterical screams, the Swordsman fell to the ground, rolling continuously.
Chan Master Tianlong planted his feet firmly. Several people attacked him. A Spear thrust out, retracting like a phantom. A line of blood opened on his waist.
“He’s bleeding! Kill!” The Big Man who had stabbed Chan Master Tianlong shouted excitedly, and more people surrounded Chan Master Tianlong.
“Get the Abbot out of here!” Chan Master Tianlong shouted.
Chan Master Tianxiang, along with Ku Hui and others, retreated towards the depths of the sand valley. After only a hundred paces, a Burly figure emerged from the ridge to the left.
“Amitabha, where do you think you’re going?”
The sun slanted west, and the clouds on the horizon were like a burning red campfire. A figure in a yellow monk’s robe, like a Vajra, pounced into the valley. His Buddhist chant spread like a tidal wave.
Chan Master Tianxiang’s heart sank. It was Monk Bao Xian of the Vajra Sect. Things were dire.
On the other side of the ridge, unnoticed by the Head of the Arhat Hall of the Western Regions Shaolin, a figure on horseback emerged, followed by a second, then a third…
…
Zhou Yan, Huyan Lei, and Mu Nianci searched their way over. First, they heard shrill screams, and then Bao Xian’s deafening, thunderous voice.
He galloped his horse onto a hill and witnessed a scene of brutal combat.
“It’s hard to distinguish friend from foe,” Mu Nianci said, watching the many monks fighting each other.
“The monks are hard to distinguish, but the laymen and Taoists are definitely the enemy,” Huyan Lei said.
“Exactly, be careful with your judgment.” As Zhou Yan finished speaking, his figure shot out and swept towards the valley. Initially, it was only ten-odd zhang, and the sand beneath his feet remained undisturbed. After another ten-odd zhang, the yellow sand beneath his feet rolled, his momentum mighty, like a great yellow dragon tens of zhang long roaring behind him.
The extremely magnificent scene attracted the attention of both sides fighting in the sand valley. Bao Xian, who was galloping from the other side of the sand dune, suddenly stopped. He watched for a few breaths, his face suddenly contorted.
“It’s Zhou Yan, who ruined my master’s plans at Shaoshi Mountain.”
“Good job, Zhou the thief. This monk will take your life.”
“Ha, it’s Bao Xian. Just in time to send this monk to the west.”
The two exchanged sharp words, but their momentum did not diminish. Two great yellow dust storms converged towards the valley.
Zhou Yan arrived first. A Swordsman in front of him swung a flowing sword strike. He swayed slightly, avoiding the sharp slash. With his right hand, he grabbed the opponent’s neck. With his left hand, he snatched the sword. His steps didn’t stop as he pushed the man backward, step by step, before the opponent was blasted and thrown towards several approaching Swordsmen.
Zhou Yan moved straight ahead, his longsword slashing violently a few times. Three Big Men from the Western Regions Martial World were sent flying, blood spurting from their bodies.
“Don’t be arrogant!” The Big Man who had previously stabbed Chan Master Tianlong attacked with his long spear. Zhou Yan charged towards the Spear Edge. His steel knife cut down along the spear shaft, the blade severing the man’s hands, blood erupting.
Zhou Yan’s blade didn’t stop, slicing into another Big Man. He didn’t pull his sword out. With his right foot, he flicked, and the tail of the Spear that had fallen to the ground appeared in his hand. Immediately after, the Spearhead suddenly leaped up from the ground like a dead snake coming back to life.
“Watch your sword.” A Taoist priest wielding a sword agilely advanced. He flicked his longsword forward, and the Sword Light shone brightly like lightning. However, the next moment, the Taoist priest crashed into the leaping Spear. The gleaming Spearhead severed the Taoist priest’s throat.
Zhou Yan’s steps didn’t stop. Holding the long spear, he thrust east and west. In an instant, three approaching Swordsmen rolled on the sand, their bodies twitching and quickly losing consciousness.
Behind Zhou Yan, Huyan Lei and Mu Nianci wielded their long spears like rain, attacking the ranks of the Western Regions Martial World. Two skilled archer Runners drew their bows and nocked arrows at close range. The remaining Runners quickly formed two killing formations, unleashing fishing nets, lime, and hidden weapons.
“Take your life!”
In front of the Shaolin Temple of Songshan, Monk Bao Xian, who had never fought Zhou Yan before, enlarged his figure like a Vajra. He exhaled with a grunt, his arm muscles suddenly bulging. His two palms each drew a half-arc and met the attack.
Zhou Yan recognized the opponent’s palm stance that day at Shaoshi Mountain after Abbot Ku Cheng explained the Shaolin Temple’s ultimate techniques.
“What can the Great Strength Vajra Palm do to me?”
Zhou Yan used “Shocking a Hundred Miles,” pushing his palms forward.
Great Strength Vajra Palm and Subduing Dragon Eighteen Palms, the two most powerful ultimate martial arts in the world, unleashed their palm force, colliding like a tidal wave.
With a *boom*, the air around the two seemed to collapse, forming a whirlpool. Air currents surged violently, and sand and stones flew from the ground.
Zhou Yan’s body swayed. He felt his arms go numb, his internal energy was blocked, and his blood surged. He was inwardly shocked. The martial arts cultivation of Huo Gong Toutuo’s second disciple was extraordinary, far surpassing Bao Shou, with whom he had fought. He could not be underestimated.
As he thought this, he exhaled a turbid breath and re-gathered his internal energy, immediately feeling invigorated.
“Let’s see how many palms you can take.”
Zhou Yan suddenly separated his palms, pointing them diagonally left and right, then quickly brought them together and pushed forward. A fierce force surged out with the closing of his palms. The “Dragon Fighting in the Wild” of Subduing Dragon Eighteen Palms was pushed towards the opponent.
Bao Xian lunged forward like a falcon, sneering repeatedly, “Zhou the thief, however many palms you throw, this monk will take them.”
As they met, Zhou Yan and Bao Xian struck palm after palm. The air was filled with dull thuds like a drumbeat. Their figures moved like grinding wheels. Wherever they passed, sand rolled. The friction between their Strength and the air generated unusual heat, and sharp whistling pierced everyone’s eardrums, causing pain like needle pricks.
Suddenly, the air made a loud *boom*.
Bao Xian suddenly retracted his body. His Kasaya seemed to form a whirlpool, caving inward. After taking over forty palms from Zhou Yan, Bao Xian’s huge sleeves rolled up with a rustling sound, and then he was sent flying three to four zhang, turning and fleeing wildly.
With Bao Xian’s escape, the rest scattered like fallen leaves.
