Chapter Thirty: The Buddhist Sect’s Martial Arts

“Congratulations to the Elder on achieving mastery!” Zhang Hu and the others hurried forward to offer their heartfelt congratulations. Their joy was genuine—for the stronger Zhang Xiao became, the greater the benefit to themselves.

Zhang Xiao nodded, a rare smile gracing his face. To be honest, the risks he had faced this time were beyond what outsiders could imagine, but fortune had favored him and he had succeeded. Especially at the final, critical moment, when his spiritual energy was depleted and even his Buddhist aura was nearly exhausted, it was the burst of powerful energy from the faint glimmer Daoist Kongxuan had implanted in him that allowed him to barely overcome the ordeal. Though the glimmer was entirely consumed, it had been exchanged for a cultivation level that now allowed him to stand proud among those of the Golden Core stage.

“Mm, Zhang Hu, you did well this time. Take this spiritual treasure as your reward,” Zhang Xiao said, handing Zhang Hu the superior-grade Iceflame Banner he had seized from Kang Jie. Zhang Hu received it with unsurpassed delight, bowing repeatedly in thanks.

“Guard the branch well. I take my leave,” Zhang Xiao said, activating his divine foot technique. In the blink of an eye, he appeared outside the branch of the Myriad Demons Sect.

Since laying down the Seven Stars Hundred Ghosts Array here, the Myriad Demons Sect had tried every means to break through, but without exception, none who entered—no matter what treasures they used for protection—could escape death. Over time, the array absorbed the deathly aura of these corpses, growing ever more formidable. Now, the area within five hundred meters had become a veritable hellscape, thick with deathly miasma, Yin and Yang energies twisting in deadly traps. The first Yin-Yang Banner he had forged, jet-black as ink, swayed in the breeze with a mournful wail that would unnerve any but the most resolute. Zhang Xiao mused, “Luckily I arrived early; if the array had been left to gather more vengeful spirits to feed the seven Yin-Yang Banners, it would have developed sentience. By then, even I would find it hard to dismantle the formation. Worse, the banners might even turn on me—a catastrophic loss.”

With that thought, Zhang Xiao flicked a command seal from his fingers, merging it into the formation. The Seven Stars Hundred Ghosts Array shuddered, and the deathly aura began to be drawn back into the seven banners.

Suddenly, Zhang Xiao frowned. Six of the banners were swiftly absorbing the aura, but the earliest one stubbornly refused. He sent another command, but unexpectedly, the disobedient Yin-Yang Banner trembled, releasing twelve streams of black-and-white spectral energy that shot toward him.

“Impudent!” Zhang Xiao didn’t dodge. Activating the Vajra Immovable Body technique, Buddhist light coiled around him, repelling all evil and rendering him impervious. With a sweep of his Buddha-wheel, seven of the twelve spirits were instantly dispelled. The banner, sensing defeat, gathered the remaining five specters around itself, attempting to flee, but Zhang Xiao would not let his treasure escape. He flashed forward, his hand glowing with Buddhist light, and seized the banner. Though now sentient, it was still no match for its creator—after a futile struggle, it submitted.

“Hmph, still trying to bite the hand that feeds you? If you don’t behave, I’ll take you apart,” Zhang Xiao threatened, tightening his grip. Realizing resistance was useless, the banner ceased its struggle and was obediently stored into his bone ring.

With the array dismantled, Zhang Xiao used his divine foot technique to return to the Maoshan branch. Without greeting Zhang Hu and the others, he went straight to the teleportation array and returned to the sect's main hall.

It was now the third day. He had thought removing the Seven Stars Hundred Ghosts Array would be a trivial task, but had not expected that one of the banners had developed sentience and tried to rebel, delaying him. When he arrived at the Grand Hall, the sect leader Kongxuan was already waiting and had apparently been there for some time. At first, Kongxuan was displeased at Zhang Xiao’s lateness, but on seeing him, his expression changed dramatically. “Shamen! You’ve already attained the Shamen rank!” he exclaimed in shock.

Zhang Xiao was momentarily confused. Shamen?

Kongxuan scrutinized him, then sighed. “I don’t know if you truly have Buddhist affinity. Your cultivation has reached the Buddhist Shamen stage, which is equivalent to our Golden Core stage.”

Only then did Zhang Xiao realize that the sect leader was referring to his Buddhist cultivation. He smiled. “Thank you for your guidance, Master. I was just fortunate, nothing more.”

“Fortunate, hmm,” Kongxuan replied with a peculiar expression. “Let’s hope so. Otherwise, the old baldies of Shaolin might bash their heads against the wall in frustration. Come now, since you’ve attained the Shamen rank, the Demon Child’s plans will surely come to naught. Take this ring—wear it, and the Demon Child won’t be able to see through your depths.”

With that, Kongxuan handed him a ring inlaid with tiny crystals, densely packed like stars in the sky, drawing the eye irresistibly.

Heaven Concealment Ring: A secret treasure that shrouds the wearer’s aura, making it impossible for others to divine any information about them.

So this was a secret treasure. Unlike magical or spiritual artifacts, secret treasures were exceedingly rare, each a priceless wonder with unique abilities. Their most remarkable trait was that they required no binding or spiritual branding—anyone could use one immediately, making them highly coveted and best kept hidden.

Zhang Xiao slipped on the ring, which shimmered with starlight before vanishing from sight. He touched his hand—it was still there, just invisible. Truly wondrous.

Without further ado, Kongxuan led Zhang Xiao out of the hall. With a sweep of his sleeve, a bronze war chariot appeared, inlaid with gilded agate. Beside it crouched a beast—horse-like yet not—a number of thick chains linking it to the chariot.

Standing atop the chariot in his jade-green robes and golden crown, Kongxuan cut a figure more reminiscent of a decisive general than a carefree Daoist.

Seeing Zhang Xiao staring in a daze, Kongxuan laughed. “Ha! Do I not cut a dashing figure, eh?” he teased.

Before Zhang Xiao could reply, a straw sandal whistled silently through the air. Had Kongxuan not noticed in time, it might have struck him squarely. Zhang Xiao’s eyes lit up—it was clearly Kongling Daoist’s footwear.

Kongxuan glanced at the sandal, then toward the Thousand Mechanisms Pavilion, sweeping Zhang Xiao onto the chariot with a flick of his sleeve. Before he could even sit properly, Kongxuan gave a command, and the beast lifted its head, causing clouds of multicolored mist to billow from its hooves as it pulled the chariot skyward, leaving a rainbow trail behind.

Seated on the chariot, Kongxuan produced a silver jug from who-knows-where and laughed heartily. “At last, I can indulge myself!” He carefully poured amber wine into a crystal goblet, and a rich fragrance wafted forth. Zhang Xiao could not help but swallow at the sight.

Though Kongxuan was stern within the sect, outside he shed all the airs of a sect master. Casting a glance at Zhang Xiao, he chuckled, “You’re in luck. This is a rare vintage. Thanks to you, I’ve finally shaken off my senior brother’s watchful eyes. Come, drink with me.” Producing another goblet, he handed the jug to Zhang Xiao, who quickly poured for them both.

As they drank and watched the scenery below, Kongxuan’s tongue loosened like a floodgate. He regaled Zhang Xiao with tales of his exploits as a young swordsman, and Zhang Xiao learned that the beast pulling the chariot was called a Dragon Colt—horse-like but not, covered in blue-green scales, hornless, a rare and swift mount.

“Master, you mentioned I’ve reached the Shamen rank. What are the Buddhist cultivation stages?” Zhang Xiao asked idly.

Kongxuan looked at him, shook his head, and sighed with a wry smile. “You’re a strange one. Thank goodness I didn’t make you my chief disciple—otherwise, imagine the embarrassment if Maoshan’s principal disciple turned out to be a Buddhist prodigy! Listen well: Buddhist ranks differ from ours. Our cultivation starts from nurturing spirit, guiding qi, condensing spirit, and practicing qi—only then do we enter the path. Next comes Foundation Establishment, laying the groundwork, then Golden Core, when one truly becomes a cultivator, followed by Nascent Soul, Divine Transformation, Union, Tribulation Crossing, and Great Ascension—a total of seven realms.

“But Buddhist cultivation is less complicated: Sramanera, Bhikkhu, Shamen, Monk, Master, Virtue, Bodhisattva—seven stages in all. Only after mastering the first three does one truly enter the Buddhist path. There are only two ways to advance: the enlightenment method, where a great master imparts his lifetime’s cultivation at his passing—but this is exceedingly rare—or through self-cultivation. Buddhist techniques are famously arduous, with no pills to aid their progress. Simply reaching the Sramanera stage is a stumbling block for countless aspirants. Shaolin may have many disciples, but their inner disciples are fewer than half of ours. Yet you, you’ve already reached Shamen, meaning you’re qualified to truly cultivate in the Buddhist way. With your talent, those old baldies at Shaolin would fight to take you as their disciple. Pity for them, by some twist of fate, you joined Maoshan instead! Hahaha!”

Zhang Xiao laughed, “It wasn’t chance that led me to Maoshan. Though I have Buddhist affinity, I could never bear their rules. I’d rather drink and feast freely at Maoshan, without a care.”

“Hahaha! Well said—cheers to that! No matter your affinity, you belong to Maoshan. Drink!” And so, Zhang Xiao and Kongxuan raised their cups and drank heartily once more.