Chapter Thirty-Five: The Supreme Treasure of the Buddhist Sect

Zhang Xiao soaked in the pool for several days, as resonant Buddhist chants echoed from deep within his heart. Golden scriptures manifested upon his Vajra Body, and whenever the water swords formed by droplets attacked, they were repelled before even touching him, blocked by the radiant power of the sacred texts.

When he opened his eyes, golden wheels faintly shimmered within his pupils. Though he had suffered unspeakable agony from the marrow-searing cultivation during these days, he had finally perfected the Immovable Vajra Body.

Gazing at the beads of water encircling him, Zhang Xiao struck out with a fist. A thunderous explosion echoed, yet not a single droplet was dislodged. Startled, he struck again, his fist aglow with golden script, surging with the mighty force of subjugating demons—but still, the water prison held firm, the droplets unmoved. No matter how he attacked, it was as if he were caged, his strength powerless to shatter the formation.

A mocking voice rang out. “These droplets are protected by the sword intent left behind by ancient sages. Your cultivation is impressive, but compared to the ancients, you are still far behind.” It was Wan Mozi, offering a reminder after observing Zhang Xiao’s futile efforts.

Zhang Xiao frowned in contemplation. Even though the sword intents were incomplete, they remained the legacy of the ancients. With his meager cultivation, he was hardly worthy to carry their shoes—how could brute force possibly disperse their sword will?

If force did not avail, then what? As he pondered, his vigilance wavered, and suddenly a sword intent exploded within his heart. Alarmed, Zhang Xiao hurriedly gathered his spirit to resist.

This sword intent, whose origin among the ancient sages was unknown, was woven with love and hate, entangled and unending like a festering bone-deep wound—no matter how he tried, he could not rid himself of it.

Shaken, memories surfaced of a name he should have long forgotten, buried deep in his heart—Lan Fang. He remembered the days spent with her, how deeply he loved her, always yielding to her wishes. But after the world changed, she betrayed him for the sake of her parents, even causing the death of his brother Xia Cheng. As the saying goes, the deeper the love, the deeper the hate. At this moment, Zhang Xiao thrashed wildly, his fists pounding the water prison in a frenzy.

Suddenly, a thought pierced the madness: “Wait! That was my memory from before my rebirth. Now I’ve already left her behind—yes, I’ve left her!” Realization dawned, and Zhang Xiao burst out laughing.

Wan Mozi, seeing Zhang Xiao affected by the sword intent, sighed inwardly in pity. Who would have thought things would unravel at the final moment?

Kong Xuan, too, watched with anxious tension. He wished to intervene, but seeing the outcome all but decided, he could do nothing but hope Zhang Xiao might awaken from the sword intent. The chances were slim, but hope was hope.

Zhang Xiao’s mind was a maelstrom, the past replaying like a series of scenes in a film. Just as despair threatened to overwhelm him, the Buddhist power cultivated from the Prajna Sutra surged into his consciousness, transforming into a great golden bell.

The bell tolled—a deep, far-reaching sound, as vast as the sea. With the reverberation, Zhang Xiao’s mind grew clear. He realized he had fallen into a trap: his will was as steady as a mountain, yet even a moment’s weakness had awakened his inner demons.

Reflecting, he understood. It was still Lan Fang. He had not truly forgotten her; she remained a thorn in his heart, a wound from past and present lives—his heart’s fatal flaw. He smiled bitterly. As the saying goes, even heroes are undone by beauty; he had nearly fallen in the shadows.

Now truly awakened, Zhang Xiao steeled himself. From his bone ring, he retrieved a silver orb, laughing ruefully. “I’d hoped to save this for a true enemy, as a trump card. What a waste.”

This silver orb was the product of his breakthrough at the Guizhou sub-sect, when, upon reaching the fourth layer of the Prajna Sutra, he invoked the power of command, gathering the thunder of the tribulation into this tiny sphere.

Despite its appearance, the orb’s contained force far surpassed the thunder of his tribulation. Back then, the lightning had come in waves, powerful but scattered. By fusing it into this orb, its destructive power became incomparable.

Zhang Xiao tossed the orb before him. With a thunderous detonation, lightning erupted. Wan Mozi and Kong Xuan’s faces both changed, exclaiming, “Heaven’s might!”

It was pure chance—had he merely condensed ordinary lightning, no matter how potent, it would not have sufficed. But this orb contained the very force of heavenly tribulation, and all its residual awe. The sword intent in the Sword Pool, though left by ancient sages, was incomplete and faded by time. Thus, the orb’s power shattered the water prison.

Seizing the opportunity, Zhang Xiao used his divine foot power to flicker and step out of the Sword Pool in an instant.

Just as he emerged, a razor-sharp gleam shot out from the pool. The light swept around, instantly dispelling the lingering power of the thunder orb, and cleaving a chasm dozens of meters deep nearby. When the light returned to the pool, Zhang Xiao’s face went pale. Had he been a moment slower, that blade of light might have claimed his life.

He strained his eyes, barely discerning a sword-like shape within the light, but nothing more. However, Wan Mozi and Kong Xuan saw clearly and gasped inwardly, “The Tai’e Divine Sword!”

They exchanged glances, faces alight with excitement, as if they had discovered untold treasure. Kong Xuan’s eyes gleamed as he smiled slyly, “Friend Wan, this artifact was summoned by my disciple. Besides, finders keepers—shall we split the merit evenly?”

Wan Mozi narrowed his eyes and replied, “No. This is, after all, my Wan Mo Sect’s territory. We should take the larger share—seventy-thirty.”

Kong Xuan’s expression chilled. “I’ve never haggled over treasure. If you refuse a fair split, we’ll be on our way. I expect the other seven great sects will soon arrive—then you’ll have your hands full.”

Wan Mozi quickly relented. “Fine, half and half.” He was beside himself with frustration—his own sect’s treasure, yet he had to share. But he dared not refuse; if the seven great sects joined forces, he might lose even that.

Kong Xuan, satisfied, smiled. “Now that my disciple has passed the third trial, our affairs are settled. But you did promise him a supreme treasure—what will you give? Don’t try to fob off a mere magic item; even a ninth-rank artifact is no match for a low-grade supreme treasure.”

Wan Mozi, regretting his earlier boast, cursed his pride. If only he had let this boy do penance at Maoshan! Instead, he’d lost two taels of demon silver, watched the youth reap huge benefits in the heart trial, and now, with the third trial, had helped him perfect the Vajra Body. But worse, he still owed half the merit and a supreme treasure—a loss that cut to the bone.

After brooding, Wan Mozi recalled that among the hundreds of elders in his sect, there were only a handful of supreme treasures, and each was invaluable. Losing even one was a bitter blow. Yet as head of the sect, his word was law—he could not renege.

Suddenly, inspiration struck. There was a supreme treasure useless to his sect: a Buddhist artifact, antithetical to their demonic arts, and bound to great karma. It had languished unclaimed, its brilliance hidden. Though the karma was great, so was its power. To simply give it to the disciple of Maoshan felt wasteful, but Wan Mozi’s eyes gleamed with cunning as he drew Kong Xuan aside for a whispered discussion. Moments later, both returned, laughing together, much to Zhang Xiao’s confusion.

He thought, “One is orthodox, one demonic. Moments ago, they were at odds; now they’re all smiles. Could they have become… an odd couple?” The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

Wan Mozi, now in high spirits, addressed Zhang Xiao. “Nephew Zhang, you are truly a young talent. As you have passed my three trials, the matters in Guizhou are settled. In addition, as promised, I shall grant you a supreme treasure. Come with me.”

Transforming into a black cloud, Wan Mozi flew toward the Wan Mo Sect. Kong Xuan seized Zhang Xiao, turning into a stream of light to follow.

At the grand hall, they found Wan Mozi retrieving a jade box from his throne—the sect’s treasury hidden within. Clearly, he was unafraid to let others see, displaying his confidence.

After dismissing the disciples, Wan Mozi spoke solemnly, “This treasure is a lost Buddhist artifact. Do not use it unless absolutely necessary, or the consequences will be dire.”

Zhang Xiao accepted the box, noting its intricate seals, and wondered why Wan Mozi was being so generous. Was there a trap? He glanced at Kong Xuan, who nodded reassuringly. Only then did Zhang Xiao store the box in his bone ring and bow in gratitude. “Thank you, Senior Wan, for your generosity. I shall never forget this favor.”

“All right, Brother Wan, it’s getting late. To avoid suspicion, I’ll not trouble you further. I’ll see to our arrangement myself—farewell.” With that, Kong Xuan and Zhang Xiao left the hall, summoned their chariot, and soared away through the clouds.