"Vajra Invincible Divine Skill," as the top-tier Protective Body Skill of the Buddhist sect in Wei, was not like the commonly seen "Golden Bell Cover" or "Iron Cloth Shirt". The former relied solely on deep Inner Qi for protection, and the latter solely on tough muscle training for defense. Rather, it integrated external and internal training, achieving a 360-degree all-round Protective Body Skill with no weak points!
In short, the "Vajra Invincible Divine Skill" possessed the dispersing and redirecting characteristics of attacks like "Golden Bell Cover" through Inner Qi, and also had the invulnerability of the "Iron Cloth Shirt" akin to copper skin and iron bones, impervious to blades and spears.
Combined, it was akin to a copper pea that couldn’t be chewed or boiled soft!
Yang Ge had been chasing this old bald monk and slashing at him for a whole seven days, from Mount Huang all the way to Suzhou. His Cold Moon Blade nearly shattered, yet he couldn’t get the best of this old monk!
It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle the old monk, but that the old monk simply wouldn’t face him directly. Upon seeing him, the monk would turn tail and run. When Yang Ge powered up for a major move, the monk would already be two to three miles away. What could he do, when his blade energy wasn’t long enough to bridge that gap?
What was worse, the old monk knew the Jianghuai area like the back of his hand. Every time Yang Ge nearly depleted the monk’s True Qi, the monk would always find a densely populated area to hide in. Not wanting to harm innocents, Yang Ge couldn’t unleash his forty-zhang blade in such places, and could only follow him into the cities...
The old monk had also pinpointed Yang Ge’s psychological bottom line, knowing that if there was mass carnage in densely populated places, Yang Ge would stop at nothing to kill him. Therefore, whenever the monk entered a city, he just played hide and seek with Yang Ge, not daring to truly fight him within the city walls.
It was only because Yang Ge’s cultivation of Taiji Yuan Shen allowed him to absorb all kinds of universal energy, giving him unmatched recovery speed, coupled with his use of yin-yang energy to observe all forms of life and accurately track the old monk...
Anyone else would have lost him long ago!
This time, Yang Ge was truly furious. No matter how slippery and tough the old monk was, Yang Ge stubbornly clung on, displaying a determined aura of "either you die, or I never stop".
The two of them kept chasing and fleeing across the East China Plain...
Within just seven days, news had spread throughout the north and south Jianghu, about the Saintly True Monarch pursuing a mysterious Buddhist master. Some gossipers even collected daily rumors to sketch the routes of their movements, updating them in real time.
...
Half a month later.
The black-robed old monk fled into the Heluo region, coming dangerously close to Lu Ting.
Yang Ge, in a violent fury, spared no expense to drive half of his True Qi outside his body to use as propellant, enduring a terrifying pressure close to the speed of sound in his nearly collapsing body, and forcibly launched his strongest attack that never returns. He sliced off an arm of the black-robed old monk... The speed was too fast, his vision, thoughts, and blade moves completely disjoint; though aiming for the monk’s head, the blade deviated over a meter apart. Had it not been for the monk’s frightened misstep, inadvertently delivering an arm under Yang Ge’s blade, the outcome might have been decided then and there.
The black-robed old monk, now missing an arm, dared not approach Lu Ting again and fled south into the Song Mountain area in panic.
When Yang Ge pursued him to Song Mountain, the Shaolin Temple monks, led personally by the Abbot, opened the temple gates in welcome to show their innocence.
The black-robed old monk showed up at Shaolin Temple, and Yang Ge chased him through this thousand-year-old temple.
Once more, the two were in a game of chase, circling back to the region of Suzhou. This time, Yang Ge, engulfed by a towering killing intent, attacked even more fiercely. His blade energy chilled to the bone like a frozen hell. The monk, unable to withstand the assault, changed his course and fled northward.
Yang Ge chased the black-robed monk all the way north.
One month later.
The black-robed old monk crossed Songting Pass and plunged headlong into the vast grasslands; Yang Ge, without hesitation, leapt in pursuit.
Leaping over hundreds of miles of vast mountain ranges, a fertile, vast grassland caught Yang Ge’s eye, with its center dotted with colorful tents like blooming flowers on the lawn...it was a populous Tartar tribe.
Upon seeing the Tartar tribe, the black-robed old monk immediately landed and dashed into it.
Following suit, Yang Ge landed; initially, his eyes saw no one but the black-robed monk. Yet, after merely a short time mingling in the Tartar tribe, the loud neighing of numerous horses broke out around him, and an array of stocky Tartar cavalrymen, clad in fur coats, furiously charged towards him, smacking their horses’ rumps with sabers and shouting...
Yang Ge realized in an instant... So the old monk had lured him out not into the Tartars’ trap, but to provoke the Tartars here.
"Well then, might as well start by collecting some interest from you..."
He lowered his eyelids, the light from his blade surging.
A whip-like bright blade energy stirred up a sky full of blood and the smell of raw flesh...
The Cold Moon Blade sang joyfully, its rolling Evil Qi enveloping Yang Ge like dark clouds.
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He soared into the sky, as countless broken weapons and fragments flew up from a sea of blood and corpses, coalescing into the form of a black dragon beneath him. The Cold Moon Blade emitted a rolling, blood-colored light, bringing this black dragon to life.
"Clang, clang, clang..."
The numerous weapon fragments hummed in unison, their sound reminiscent of a dragon’s roar as it emerges from the sea.
The long-absent black dragon once again appeared in the mortal world.
Yang Ge stood on the dragon’s back, his intense killing intent merging with the black dragon’s rolling Evil Qi, thrusting upward toward the heavens!
They say there is no strongest martial art in the world, only the strongest person.
And at this moment, Yang Ge was in his truly strongest state!
The Black Dragon roared, its dragon tail sweeping as it closed a distance of hundreds of feet in an instant, swallowing the one-armed monk in black robes who was desperately trying to escape ahead.
"Bang."
The next second, the Black Dragon’s head burst open, and the one-armed monk in black robes, shining like a golden Arhat descending into the world, shot up into the sky and continued fleeing forward without making a sound.
But this time, his body no longer resembled the indestructible oilskin that Yang Ge’s slashing and bombing attacks hadn’t been able to penetrate before!
He was bleeding!
Covered with dense, tiny wounds, it was as if he had been put to death by a thousand cuts!
Yang Ge looked down at him, a cold gaze in his eyes, inside which hysterical emotions were wildly howling...
To describe that emotion in detail perhaps a master of psychology would be needed to analyze Yang Ge at this moment deeply.
But if it’s only roughly summarized, then it could mainly be put into four words: "Fuck it all!"
Morality and duty, fuck it all!
Success and shame, fuck it all!
Life and death... also fuck it all!
If I can’t kill you this time, I’ll kill myself!
...
The Black Dragon roared and chased the one-armed monk in black robes, circling deeper into the grassland.
The intensely thick Evil Qi formed a visible blood mist enveloping the entire Black Dragon, its terrifying presence scaring the prairie wolf packs to lose their bowel control, even from several miles away...
On the second day of entering the grassland, after nightfall, heavy snow began to fall, and an immaculate crescent moon in the east illuminated the whole grassland with a dark yet bright light.
After running wildly for hundreds of miles, the monk in black robes, who had endured numerous death-by-a-thousand-cuts tortures without uttering a sound, suddenly burst out in a loud voice as clear as a mighty bell: "Holy Master, save me!"
"Have we arrived yet?"
Yang Ge on the back of the Black Dragon heard this cry and murmured softly, "Then you’re of no use to me."
In an instant, the Black Dragon roared down from the sky, diving headfirst toward the stumbling monk in black robes on the ground, falling straight like a collapsing mountain.
The monk in black robes screamed hoarsely, dazzling golden light shining within the moonlit, dark blood mist, flickering, fracturing, and extinguishing under the onslaught of the Black Dragon...
"Bang."
The Black Dragon blasted a crater over fifty meters in diameter on the grassland, dust and grass particles flying everywhere.
As the dust settled, Yang Ge at the center of the crater bent down to pick up a golden skull, weighing it lightly in his hand.
Just then, a majestic and grand golden light lit up straight ahead.
Within the golden light, an old man dressed in black dragon robes, wearing a nine-dragon imperial crown and golden cloud-patterned shoes, approached with heavy steps.
"What a skillful move, lay brother!"
He said with a light smile.
Yang Ge raised his head, his eyes red as ink without a hint of white, not reflecting the grand golden light around him.
"Lay your mom!"
He also said with a light smile.
The two were not more than thirty feet apart, one surrounded by a golden light as if a deity had descended, the other with Evil Qi soaring to the skies like an old demon leaving its pass.
It was like a scene from a Western religious oil painting where saints battle demons, an epic image...