Chapter 824: Like a Mountain! Like a Sea! Like a Banner!
White Rock Daoist’s face showed shock as he looked around, finding himself still outside the Daoist temple, in the woods.
That young girl was still before him, and that cold aura still lingered at the back of his neck.
What was happening? Hadn’t the Falling Star Stone already torn through space? Why was he still in the same place?
White Rock Daoist looked down at his feet, and his face suddenly turned pale.
The Falling Star Stone still hovered silently within the black space.
But that black space was visibly shrinking.
A sacred force, coming from an unknown source, was rippling like water, continuously striking against the black space.
The Falling Star Stone’s distortion of the natural laws of heaven and earth had completely lost its effect. The petals and leaves no longer sank but remained where they were.
Just as he himself could not enter that passage and was forced to stay in place.
Where did this rippling force come from? Why was it so sacred and solemn? Why couldn’t even the Falling Star Stone withstand it?
White Rock Daoist spun around, following the ripples on the ground with his gaze into the distance, finally landing beyond the divine gate, beneath the pear tree.
Chen Changsheng stood quietly under the pear tree, watching him calmly, as if he had no concern that he might escape.
In his hand, he held a divine staff.
It was the staff representing the highest sacred will of the state religion.
The base of the staff was embedded in the soil, shallow yet unshakable.
Countless sacred auras radiated from the divine staff, spreading outward like ripples across the area around the Daoist temple.
The petals and green leaves in the woods slowly floated up, rising three feet above the ground before stopping.
The water plants at the riverbed slowly drifted upward, rising three feet above the water’s surface before ceasing to covet the sky’s light.
Between motion and stillness, there was an indescribably harmonious beauty.
The pinnacle of beauty was solemnity, and the starry sea was solemn, for solemnity was sacred.
The entire Daoist temple, along with the surrounding woods and river, had transformed into a starry sea.
Any sacred force that encountered this starry sea would become part of it, sinking or drowning, until it vanished or merged.
The Falling Star Stone was a treasured artifact of the state religion, the fruit of countless generations of wise minds in the Li Palace. When it met the Pope’s divine staff, how could it retain any will to fight?
White Rock Daoist clearly sensed that the Falling Star Stone was separating from his Dao heart. Finally understanding the truth, his face grew even paler. With the state religion’s elite gathered here, even with the Falling Star Stone in hand, he could only think of escaping. If the Falling Star Stone were taken from him, what hope would remain?
He no longer cared about anything else. He forcibly severed his connection with the Falling Star Stone, enduring the backlash from the divine path, swallowing the bitter, bloody taste in his mouth. He channeled his true essence wildly, pushing his Daoist arts to their limit, and slipped sideways past the young girl, transforming into a gust of wind as he fled toward the edge of the woods.
An Lin flicked her finger, and her sash billowed in the wind, stirring up countless petals to dazzle the eyes.
White Rock Daoist was not dazzled, but his vision was blocked.
More importantly, the sash and the swirling petals seemed to alter the orientation of the woods in some way.
When the petals scattered, what White Rock Daoist saw was not the stone steps leading out of the woods, but the icy-cold face of the King of Linghai.
The King of Linghai had struck first with a sneak attack and then quietly retreated, waiting until now without making another move.
He was not about to give White Rock Daoist another chance.
He swung the iron ruler he had been holding in readiness, smashing it toward White Rock Daoist behind the petals.
Countless starlike lights seemed to flare up on the pitch-black iron ruler in that instant.
A dull thud echoed.
The iron ruler broke through White Rock Daoist’s defenses and landed heavily on his shoulder.
His shoulder bone snapped in two, his Nether Palace was shaken, and he could no longer control himself, spitting a mouthful of blood into the sky.
Just as he was about to erupt with true essence and forcefully break past the King of Linghai, he suddenly felt a chill at his waist.
This chill was familiar to him, and that made it terrifying.
Earlier, this chill had been following behind him, like a ghost constantly breathing on his neck.
Now, it had reached his waist.
A very faint, dull sound.
Like that overly clichéd metaphor.
A wineskin full of wine had been pierced.
A sword tip emerged from White Rock Daoist’s abdomen.
The tip of this sword was not sharp; instead, it looked like a broken edge left by a sharp weapon, covered in complex patterns and designs.
Those patterns and designs, stained red with blood, appeared eerily strange.
Logically, a supreme powerhouse like White Rock Daoist, even with a sword through his abdomen, should still have combat strength.
But for some reason, he was rapidly weakening, as if the sword carried countless demonic auras, constantly devouring his life force.
White Rock Daoist looked down at his abdomen, staring at the sword, and his dazed eyes filled with immense shock as he let out a pained and desperate cry.
He had seen this sword in the illustrations of the Daoist scriptures. He recognized it.
—The Demon Marshal’s Banner Sword, vanished for centuries!
...
...
Divine might like the sea!
Iron ruler like a mountain!
Demon sword like a banner!
No matter how formidable White Rock Daoist was, after enduring three such terrifying attacks in succession, he could no longer hold on. He spat blood, fell to one knee, and abandoned resistance.
He struggled to lift his head and found that young girl still standing before him, her expression wooden.
From start to finish, this young girl had not made a move, yet no matter where he went, she always appeared before him.
This kind of non-action was more terrifying than action itself.
Who was this young girl? How could she possess such terrifying speed and movement techniques? White Rock Daoist stared at her face, suddenly thinking of a possibility. An incredulous look flashed in his eyes as he turned toward the divine gate and shouted harshly, “You actually dare to keep her by your side!”
Chen Changsheng did not answer him. He put away the divine staff and softly thanked Guan Feibai.
From the moment the King of Linghai launched his sneak attack, Guan Feibai had not known what was happening, but he instinctively stepped in front of Chen Changsheng and gripped his sword hilt.
Because he knew Chen Changsheng was still gravely injured and had lost too much blood, requiring heavy protection.
By now, he vaguely understood something, and his hand on the sword hilt trembled slightly.
All of this had happened too suddenly.
Even he, whose sword intent was as steady as a mountain, found himself a bit tense upon realizing he had personally taken part in a major event of the state religion.
An Lin, hearing White Rock Daoist’s words, vaguely grasped something. She looked at the wooden-faced young girl, as if wanting to speak but stopping herself.
The King of Linghai had surely guessed as well, but he was completely unaffected by White Rock Daoist’s words. Expressionless, he asked, “Since you guessed we had already discovered it, you still dared to follow us into the city. Was it the Dao Sovereign or the Tang family that guaranteed your safety? Or did you think that with the Falling Star Stone in hand, you could act with impunity?”
White Rock Daoist’s front was covered in bloodstains, looking somewhat pitiful, but his attitude remained stubborn. He said in a deep voice, “I truly did not expect the divine staff to suppress the Falling Star Stone. It seems this is the means the Pope uses to control the six halls. But so what? You can’t just kill me on the spot, can you?”