The Spirit Realm Entry 14. One Fatal Strike

At this moment of life and death, Famen Temple was instantly shrouded in a terrifying shadow. The man in black shifted his feet slightly and slowly stood up, twin strange weapons in his hands, like the arms of Death himself spreading wide to summon the monks. The group of monks, terrified, all retreated two steps.

Master Tianxin, seeing the imposing presence of the man in black, shouted at him, “Since you are so confident, I, though old and feeble, am willing to receive your instruction with the martial arts passed down through the generations of this temple.”

The man in black grinned arrogantly and wrote, “This monastery of yours, no matter how many secret skills or formidable masters it hides, let them all come—one on one or all at once, as you please.”

Master Tianxin let out a cold laugh. “Our humble temple still holds some standing in the martial world. To deal with you, there’s no need to gather all our best. If you can defeat me and my fellow brothers, the rest of our disciples will be at your mercy.”

The man in black nodded and wrote, “Baldy, care to take my first strike?” Just as Master Tianxin was about to step forward, Elder Tiantai leaped ahead and said, “Brother, let me try him first.”

Master Tianxin steadied himself and nodded. “Very well.” The man in black wrote quickly, “No need for several moves. If you can withstand half a move of my ‘Form-Intent Palm,’ I’ll immediately kill myself with this golden brush.”

Elder Tiantai was a master of martial arts at Famen Temple, especially famed for his mastery of the Divine Kalavinka Skill, which had reached its peak—impervious to blades and flames alike. He dismissed the so-called Form-Intent Palm with scorn.

Seeing the arrogance in the man in black’s words, and feeling the contempt, Tiantai’s face turned ashen with fury. He shouted, “Do your words count?”

The man in black nodded, writing, “My word is as good as gold; I stand by what I write.” Elder Tiantai immediately focused his energy, circulating his inner strength to fortify his body, standing firm as steel. He signaled his readiness: “Please, make your move.”

The man in black nodded, passed the golden brush to his left hand, and gently thrust his palm forward. It seemed effortless, yet as his palm turned from side to front, a continuous stream of force surged forth.

Suddenly, Elder Tiantai felt a peculiar force break through his protective energy, entering his body. Alarmed, he hurriedly raised his right hand to block, but as it touched that hidden force, his arm went numb as if struck by a boulder, unable to move.

The man in black withdrew his power and wrote, “Old baldy, do you believe me now? To be honest, if you don’t sever your right arm immediately, your whole body will go numb and your blood vessels harden—you’ll be dead in the time it takes to burn an incense stick.”

Master Tianxin, seeing his brother’s face twist in pain and reading the warning, sighed. “Brother, is it serious? If you truly cannot resist the injury, then—” But he could not bear to tell his brother to amputate his own arm, and his voice choked off.

Elder Tiantai felt the numbness spreading to his shoulder, his blood beginning to harden within his veins. He knew the man in black was not bluffing. Gritting his teeth, he swiftly dispelled his protective energy, snatched a monk’s precept knife, and with resolute determination, severed his right arm.

The man in black wrote again, “Who else dares to step forward? Hurry up.” Elder Tiantai’s skills were equal to Master Tianxin’s, yet he could not withstand a single move. If Tiantai had lost an arm in just one exchange, the others had even less chance. Master Tianxin hesitated, unsure whom to send next, caught in a difficult dilemma.

The man in black, evidently growing impatient, widened his eyes, shooting a chilling glare. With a sudden lift of his left-hand weapon, a sharp crack sounded as flames erupted from it, shooting toward the horizontal plaque above a meditation room.

The plaque, already dry, caught fire at once with a whoosh, and in the next few strikes from the man in black, an entire meditation room was engulfed in flames.

The monks nearby rushed to save it, but with the water source so far, even with many hands, they could not stem the blaze quickly.

Master Tianxin sighed and said, “We suffer now for the sins of our temple’s traitors. Luo Wuzhou was a traitor of the previous generation, and our temple does not shirk its responsibility. But what grudge does your master bear against a Buddhist temple, to set it ablaze so wantonly? Are you not afraid of the consequences?”

The man in black lowered his head at these words and abruptly wrote, “Man fears heartbreak; trees fear being stripped of their bark. If the martial world had not harmed me, I would hesitate to even kill a chicken. To extinguish the fire, only earth will suffice.”

Master Tianxin, understanding, immediately ordered his disciples to shovel earth onto the flames. The monks, wielding shovels, worked together. With their extraordinary strength, they tossed earth even onto the highest rooftops, and in moments the fire was out. Master Tianxin sighed, “Amitabha, what a sin, what a sin.”

The man in black looked up at the sky and wrote swiftly, “Old monk, whatever formidable skills you possess, show them all. If I cannot break them, I’ll spare everyone here.”

After a moment’s thought, Master Tianxin said, “The Golden Bell Shield and the Iron Cloth Shirt are two of our most renowned arts. I doubt you can overcome them. Let my brother demonstrate them against you.”

The man in black sneered as he wrote, “My Form-Intent Palm can break through any protective skill. These two are nothing to me. But before we begin, I ask that you prepare a rooster.”

Master Tianxin did not understand the request but ordered a disciple to fetch one. Soon, a young monk brought a rooster, and the man in black quickly wrote, “Who will face me this time?”

This time, Elder Tianbao stepped forward voluntarily, clasped his hands, and said, “I am willing to try your skill with the Golden Bell Shield.”

The man in black acted with utter openness. Once Elder Tianbao had activated his protective energy, the man set his brush at his waist and thrust out his hand with astonishing force.

With a loud thud, Elder Tianbao was thrown back six or seven steps, swaying. Master Tianxin rushed to support him, seeing his brother’s face turning ashen.

Master Tianxin intoned a Buddhist chant and asked, “Brother, quickly see if you can still circulate your energy. Let me help you.” Elder Tianbao tried to comply.

The man in black wrote, “Even with his help to temporarily stem the reversal of your blood, you will not last half an hour. Unless your throat is immediately cut to release the reversed blood, and the living rooster’s skin is placed upon the wound, your life cannot be saved.”

Master Tianxin saw his brother’s eyes glaze over, knowing death was near. He laid him flat, seized a precept knife, and gently sliced his brother’s throat.

Dark purple blood oozed out. When the fresh blood appeared, he grabbed the rooster, slit its neck, and stripped off its skin, placing it over the wound on Elder Tianbao’s neck.

Strangely, as soon as the rooster’s skin covered the wound, the bleeding stopped and Elder Tianbao’s eyes began to move again. Seeing his brother’s life spared, Master Tianxin ordered his disciples to carry him inside to recover.

Standing aside, Elder Tianwen sneered at the man in black, “Tricks and dark arts—what is there to fear?” The man in black grinned and wrote, “Why not try for yourself?”

Although in his seventies, Elder Tianwen was hot-tempered and never believed in the supernatural. His Iron Cloth Shirt skill was unparalleled. He snorted, “Let me take a few of your moves.”

The man in black’s eyes flashed with disdain. He wrote, “No need for several moves. If you can withstand one finger, I’ll spare the entire Famen Temple.”

Elder Tianwen roared, “Good! If you break through my Iron Cloth Shirt with one finger, I’ll cut my heart out on the spot.” With that, he activated his protective skill.

The man in black extended his forefinger, pointing at Elder Tianwen from five feet away. He withdrew his hand, stepping back. A sharp sound rang out, as if an arrow had been loosed.

Elder Tianwen’s massive body toppled like a felled tree. Though not mortally wounded, he, keeping his promise, while his strength remained, drove his fingers into his chest and tore out his own heart, blood streaming.

This heroic yet tragic scene filled every disciple at Famen Temple with sorrow. They pressed their palms together and chanted, “Amitabha,” their voices echoing to the heavens.

Mo Dao, too, was moved by the old monk’s resolve and let out a sigh of regret. Master Tianxin, frowning, gazed at his brother’s lifeless body and sighed, “Brother Tianwen, you devoted decades to Buddha, yet your impatience never left you, and now you meet such a tragic end.”

The man in black let out a hoarse laugh and wrote, “Baldies, your time is almost up. If anyone has any last skills, use them now, or I’ll begin the slaughter.”

Suppressing his grief, Master Tianxin stepped forward and said, “I will face you myself!” With that, he drew in his breath, his muscles rippling and swelling.

“Come!” he shouted. The man in black put away his golden brush, thrust out his right hand, and struck Master Tianxin’s shoulder before withdrawing, all in the time of a single breath.

Master Tianxin did not fall at first, so all thought he had withstood the blow. But suddenly he spat out a mouthful of blood, sighed, and collapsed.