A Long Grind to Daoist Monarch

Chapter 198 56: Recovering Corpses, Searching Corpses

"Ensnared by fame, lured by profit, swayed by strength and weakness, subdued by authority, deluded by lust, and frightened by life and death... People like you have no great future in martial arts."

Ninghai Zen clasped his hand and gently touched Su Wan'Er's blind eyes, shaking his head:

"The pinnacle inheritance of the Meridian Sword Sect is the 'Great Five Elements Reversed Sword Scripture,' with its five branches: Lie Que, Shangyang, Yinbai, Shaoze, and Zhao Hai.

It directly points to the transformation of illusion and reality, the extremes of yin and yang, the great path to cultivating divine techniques..."

His words carried an unspoken contempt, almost undisguised in his tone.

As if having a figure like Luo Zhaopeng within the gates of the Meridian Sword Sect was a disgrace to the ancestors.

This made the former seethe with anger, even knowing Ninghai Zen was a Grandmaster, he couldn't help but grit his teeth:

"To attack a helpless and blind orphan with a single finger, what arrogance, what dominance!

Even if you gave Wan'Er fifty years, a hundred years, she would still not be able to harm a single hair on you!

Even if Wan'Er consumed the world's finest elixirs and divine pills, she would never reach the stone pass to stand alongside you!

Why did you kill her? Was it only because she was the last remaining bloodline of the Su Family?!"

Luo Zhaopeng indeed did not expect Ninghai Zen to actually take action.

Which of the Four Cultivation Grandmasters lacked exceptional poise? How could they harbor murderous intent towards a defenseless, fragile orphan?

Spreading the word would be disgraceful!

Ninghai Zen remained silent.

He stood with his hands behind him on the high slope, eyes deep, as if transcending the mundane world.

"Since I entered the sect, besides the three restrictive rules of the Tongwen Hall, I set a personal rule for myself.

The Martial Dao is a path of cutting down fate and seizing life force.

Perhaps in this world, there are cultivators who meditate, contemplate, and achieve immortality through passive practice over the course of decades.

But there are absolutely no practitioners who do not bear blood debts, karmic ties, ill consequences, or retributions.

Therefore—"

Ninghai Zen paused for a moment, his sky-blue satin robe with cloud and dragon patterns flaring in the wind, like a peak rising abruptly from the ground, supporting the vast expanse of the sky and wilderness encompassing all directions.

"After practicing martial arts, those who obstruct my path become my enemies.

In this world, there are none who cannot kill me, just as I cannot kill anyone."

No one cannot kill me? I cannot kill anyone?

Does it mean that even beggars, the disabled, and women and children, if they become mortal enemies, would be completely annihilated without hesitation?

Luo Zhaopeng was greatly shaken, every word from Ninghai Zen's mouth felt like it carried ten thousand weights, pressing heavily on his heart.

He struggled to keep his eyelids open, surveying the broad shoulders and towering figure soaring skyward, and suddenly recalled his first venture into Fulong Mountain.

The vast mountain stretching over three thousand miles cast a large shadow, enveloping him, making him feel insignificant.

He unexpectedly fell silent.

"I am unbound, my path is infinite, beyond your comprehension."

Ninghai Zen's expression remained calm, still without a trace of murderous intent, like someone savoring the rain as it fell.

"Considering you have not truly attacked, and in view of your identity as an Inner Sect Disciple of the Meridian Sword Sect, leave now and give this girl a proper burial."

Luo Zhaopeng's chest, filled with fiery anger, suddenly constricted, a flash of surprise in his eyes as Ninghai Zen unexpectedly relented?

Given the other's relentless approach to eliminating threats, how could he have any chance of survival?

But he quickly became relieved. The weight of the words "Meridian Sword Sect" in the Celestial Water Prefecture needs no embellishment.

Even Zhao Pijiang, a Grand General wielding the power of life and death, would have to yield somewhat, let alone a mere Tongwen Hall.

Mastering three grand techniques capable of producing Four Cultivation Grandmasters, it may be considered a formidable force within Yihai Prefecture; the Thirteen Firms dare not offend.

But compared to the influence of an entire prefecture, with a Divine Martial Saint in the Divine Power Secret Realm residing in the Meridian Sword Sect, it is akin to a firefly competing with the sun and moon, its light dim, not worth mentioning.

This is not Luo Zhaopeng's blind arrogance; on the contrary, only trapped in a single prefecture with limited vision would one see Grandmasters as insurmountable peaks of the current age.

Unaware, they are merely at the end of the Physical Body Secret Realm, "common mortals" at best.

Above them are the radiant stars, the Divine Martial Saints suspended high over the Red County Divine Land!

"My temper is unpredictable; if you don't leave, you might not escape the Black Water River alive."

Ninghai Zen gazed distantly at the curtain of rain hanging between heaven and earth, his tone indifferent.

"The Su family is now extinct."

Luo Zhaopeng's shoulders suddenly relaxed, as if a great burden had been lifted. He gently reached out, touching the seemingly sleeping young woman, a hint of regret flashing in his eyes.

He shouldn't have brought Wan'Er to Black River County; it would have been better to have patiently waited a few more years.

This Inner Sect Disciple of the Meridian Sword Sect cradled the nearly weightless slender figure horizontally, a flash beneath his feet as he swept away like an eagle, quickly fading into the forest.

"The Meridian Sword Sect is increasingly incompetent, no wonder Zhao Pijiang rides atop it. Divine Power Secret Realm, physical sanctity, haha."

Ninghai Zen's gaze was expansive, as if encompassing all directions, without even needing to circulate Qi Blood. The rainwater saturating his robe rolled off like beads on a broken string, flowing down to the ground.

A sweep of his wide sleeve, within a hundred-zhang radius, the rain suddenly froze in mid-air.

Then it reversed, surging upward like a pearl curtain rolling back!

The atmosphere around him trembled suddenly, like a clap of thunder, and the sky-blue satin robe with cloud and dragon patterns vanished without a trace, leaving only a few floating dry grasses.

"Ninghai Zen does not kill, Jing Wuming comes to collect!"

...

...

"A flood dragon?"

Bai Qi rode on the back of the Big Flood Dragon, inspecting it closely.

Its head was prominent, though it grew very short, resembling a small hill.

Its four feet were broad, like wooden oars, with scales glistening brilliantly, like embroidered silk, very smooth, evoking an urge to touch them.