Chapter 106: Northern Desert Buddhist Disciple Xuan Xin, Batulu’s Roar Topples Half of the Heavenly
Chapter 106 – Northern Desert Buddhist Disciple Xuan Xin, Batulu’s Roar Topples Half of the Heavenly
Hearing the voice, Gongsun Huaiyu turned to look.
A white-robed monk stood just outside the door, having arrived without a whisper of sound.
The instant her eyes fell upon him, Gongsun Huaiyu felt her heart stumble in her chest.
Demonic!
Far too demonic!
Never before had she seen a man of such bewitching beauty; his features were more exquisitely carved than any maiden’s.
His skin held the fragile perfection of blooming petals, radiating a profound, almost sinister feminine grace.
A pure white monk’s robe should have carried the heavy, ascetic air of the Dao, but upon his frame, it only amplified his soul-snaring allure.
Violently shaking her head to shatter the spell, Gongsun Huaiyu sneered.
“Who do you think you are? You tell me to show mercy, and I must obey?”
“I refuse. What can you possibly—”
“Girl, come back!”
Chen Changsheng’s sharp voice cut through the air, silencing her from a few paces away.
The relaxed indifference that usually veiled his face had vanished, replaced by a cold, impenetrable gravity.
Heeding his command, Gongsun Huaiyu shot the white-robed monk a venomous glare before darting back to Chen Changsheng’s side.
“Young Master, why are you holding me back again?”
“It is not as if I cannot crush them.”
Ignoring her petulance, Chen Changsheng spared the distant monk a single, sweeping glance and spoke with chilling calm.
“I will not bind your hands in most matters, but you would do well to avoid that one at all costs.”
“If the day comes when you must cross his path, you have only two choices.”
“First: turn and flee without a breath of hesitation.”
“Second: sever his head from his shoulders before he can open his mouth, and do so with equal ruthlessness.”
His grim decree instantly snared not just Gongsun Huaiyu’s attention, but the wary curiosity of every powerhouse present.
Batulu, who had been loudly devouring a pile of Spirit Fruits, swallowed his mouthful and bellowed.
“Is he truly as monstrous as you claim?”
“You hardly seem the type to shrink from a bloody fight, Chen Changsheng. Why act so timid before a bald donkey?”
“If you are truly afraid, how about I smash him a few times on your behalf?”
Chen Changsheng smiled, a faint, archaic amusement curving his lips. “Very well.”
“Go ahead and smash him a few times for me.”
Swish!
Before the echo of Chen Changsheng’s voice faded, Batulu tore through the void, materializing directly before the white-robed monk.
A savage wooden club, thicker than a mortal’s torso, plummeted toward the monk’s skull with mountain-shattering momentum.
This serene figure was none other than Xuan Xin, the Northern Desert Buddhist Disciple who had single-handedly trampled nineteen strongholds across the three great Holy Lands.
Drawn by the blood-soaked glory of his legend, countless Heavenly Talents hungered to test their Dao against him, Batulu chief among them.
His banter with Chen Changsheng was nothing more than a thin veil for his killing intent.
Boom!
Crack!
A terrifying shockwave erupted, instantly grinding countless jade tables and fruit platters to dust. Yet, the monstrous club that had once battered Gongsun Huaiyu into submission was now caught in the pale, delicate palm of the white-robed monk.
Though the bluestone floor beneath him had splintered into a massive, jagged crater, he had halted Batulu’s furious blow.
Witnessing this, Batulu’s brazen arrogance faltered.
He had only channeled half his True Qi into that strike, but half his monstrous strength was enough to flatten a small mountain.
Within this sprawling Heavenly Talent Assembly, only two men possessed the primordial flesh required to match him: the unfathomable Yaoguang Holy Son, and the deeply mysterious Chen Changsheng.
Outside of those two, Batulu viewed the bodily refinement of the others as utter trash.
But today, this ascetic from the Northern Desert had forced his way onto that elite list.
“Amitabha.”
“Benefactor, your murderous aura is far too heavy. Allow this humble monk to offer a scripture and cleanse your soul of this foul karma.”
Casually pressing back against the club, the white-robed monk formed a one-handed seal and began to chant.
His voice was barely a whisper, yet the esoteric Sanskrit syllables resonated like ancient temple bells across the entire assembly hall.
As the verses washed over them, countless prodigies felt an invasive serenity smother their Dao-hearts, violently erasing their lifelong ambitions and grudges.
A chilling urge seized their minds: to sever their worldly ties, shave their heads, and fall to their knees in eternal devotion.
However, not everyone present was swept away by the Northern Desert’s hypnotic tide.
The Yaoguang Holy Son simply maintained his faint smile, elegantly swirling the fine wine in his cup as he let the scripture pass harmlessly over him.
Nearby, Chen Changsheng mirrored this nonchalance, quietly chewing his food under the torrential assault of the chants.
Yet, unlike the Holy Son, Chen Changsheng’s flesh began to naturally emit a faint, golden Buddhist radiance of his own, an anomaly that defied all logic.
While those two old monsters in young skin remained untouched, the rest of the elite fought a desperate internal war.
The Zifu Holy Maiden pinched rapid hand seals, her eyes tightly shut. Ye Hensheng had dropped into a cross-legged meditation, frantically whispering ancient Daoist mantras to anchor his soul.
Su Tian’s entire form erupted with the blinding brilliance of the stars, standing resilient like a mortal God of War.
Every premier genius in the hall was pushing their cultivation arts to the absolute limit just to withstand the auditory onslaught.
“Break!”
Standing at ground zero, Batulu felt the terrifying pull of the golden chants gnawing at his mind.
Just as his fierce will began to waver, a barbaric necklace of beast fangs resting against his collarbone flashed with an ancient, bloody luminescence, snapping him back to reality.
Realizing he had nearly been enslaved by a mere song, Batulu refused to grant the demonic ascetic another breath.
He drew in a monstrous breath and unleashed a roaring gale of pure, boiling blood-qi that shattered the serene soundscape.
Pfft!
First softened by the hypnotic Sanskrit, then violently struck by Batulu’s primordial roar, more than half of the surrounding Heavenly Talents spat mouthfuls of blood and collapsed on the spot.
Gasp… gasp…
As the suffocating chants dissipated, Ye Hensheng and Su Tian slumped forward, their bodies drenched in cold sweat as they greedily sucked in the air.
The brush with spiritual enslavement had been far too close. Had Batulu not shattered the monk’s tempo, even they might have had their Dao-hearts stripped away.
Quietly, the outer disciples of the Kunlun Holy Land slipped out from the shadowy alcoves.
With practiced efficiency, they dragged the unconscious geniuses away and dismantled their empty seats, erasing their presence entirely.
High above, the Sovereign entities seated upon the main dais had not uttered a single word.
Such brutal culling was simply the nature of the Dao; they observed the slaughter with silent, uncaring approval.
“Now do you comprehend the true nature of this Heavenly Talent Assembly?”
Chen Changsheng’s dry voice finally dragged Gongsun Huaiyu and the others back from their horror.
Staring at the empty spaces where dozens of proud cultivators had sat moments before, Gongsun Huaiyu swallowed heavily and nodded, a chill gripping her spine.
She had personally felt the terror of the Northern Desert’s Dharma. If forced into a life-or-death struggle against him, she would be immensely fortunate to boast even a three-in-ten chance of survival.
Then there was the barbarian, Batulu of the Southern Plains. This boorish giant had been masking a terrifyingly profound foundation beneath his crude exterior.
His single, unrestrained roar had effortlessly leveled half the gathered elite.
Even if she secluded herself in bitter cultivation for another decade, she could not hope to replicate such pure, unrestrained violence.
“You bald donkey, your heart is too black. I will not trade blows with you today.”
Having eaten a silent loss, Batulu stomped back to his seat, his face dark like a thunderhead.
The white-robed monk merely offered a pristine smile, pressing his palms together in serene devotion. “This humble monk is Xuan Xin. Greetings to you all, benefactors.”
“I wonder, did the scripture this humble monk recited just now help to wash away some of the murderous intent from your hearts?”
Seated far above the chaos, Jiang Bufan looked down and spoke, his voice carrying a soft, regal authority. “Little friend truly lives up to his title as the Buddhist Kingdom’s Disciple. The sheer depth of your Dharma puts many to shame.”
“The Heavenly Talent Assembly is about to commence. Please, take your seat.”