Chapter 1508: Mount Sumeru Ends
The Divine Emperor stood tall and majestic, strands of chaotic qi swirling around him, transcendent and mysterious, like a living supreme being overlooking all living beings.
He stood atop Mount Sumeru, the deathly aura greatly diminished, the pressure of the Ancient Emperor released, but the two revived Imperial Artifacts could withstand and block it, protecting the Great Thunderclap Monastery.
The world fell silent. A soft sigh came from within the Nine-Colored Immortal Robe, carrying endless sorrow. It summoned the Ninefold Coffin and, with grief, buried the Divine Emperor once more.
The body of the Divine Silkworm Emperor slowly collapsed, surrounded by chaos, sinking into the coffin. The stone outer coffins closed one by one, sealing him within.
How many heroes are buried beneath the passage of time? No matter how great your divine powers, you cannot reverse it. A lifetime of glory leaves only sorrow in the end.
The Divine Emperor was peerless, stunning past and present, but still unable to withstand time. He was destined to end—a brilliant instant, followed by endless darkness and finality.
Boom!
The Ninefold Coffin closed completely, seamless and tight, like an ordinary stone, plain and lusterless, returning to simplicity. If thrown into a mound of yellow earth, no one would notice it.
Such is the life of a Great Emperor—ultimately returning to dust, to earth.
"Father!" the Divine Silkworm Daoist cried out, hot tears streaming. He clenched his fists and rushed forward.
The Divine Silkworm Clan's battle robe shot out a beam of immortal light, transforming into a brilliant heavenly river that stretched straight out of the mountain, like a bridge to the heavens, turning this place into a thoroughfare.
It was guiding the people of the Divine Silkworm lineage. The Ancient Emperor's son, the Divine Silkworm Princess, and others all stepped onto it, ascending Mount Sumeru.
Ye Fan, with the verdant-glowing green copper cauldron suspended above his head and a three-foot immortal sword in hand, followed along, coming to the summit of Mount Sumeru for the first time in his life.
The Divine Silkworm Daoist's tears fell. He touched the stone coffin, his voice hoarse, his words unintelligible to others.
With a rumble, the stone coffin enlarged. Nine colors surged into the sky, and a tenth color burst forth. It instantly expanded to thousands of zhang in length and continued to grow.
Strands of multicolored light shot out, entering the Divine Silkworm Daoist's brow. Faintly, it seemed as if scriptures echoed, along with a realization of the Dao shattering.
The Divine Silkworm Daoist stepped back, dazed and lost, murmuring to himself: "In the end, I missed it… In the end, I must set out…"
Swish!
Another burst of immortal light erupted, completely unexpected by everyone. It flew toward the Divine Silkworm Princess's shoulder, aimed at the little golden monkey there.
The little monkey, no taller than a palm, bared its teeth in fear, nervously clutching a lock of the Divine Silkworm Princess's hair and shrinking back.
Everyone was stunned. What was the origin of this little Divine Silkworm, who had undergone several transformations and now looked like a Battle Saint Ape? It was actually noticed by the Divine Emperor, who bestowed immortal light upon it.
Even the Divine Silkworm Princess was greatly surprised. She turned her head to look at the little divine ape on her shoulder, blinking its big eyes with an innocent expression, and seemed to recall something, lost in thought.
A soul-shaking sound rang out. Before anyone could react, the massive stone coffin soared into the sky, cutting through the heavens with brilliant immortal light, straight into the depths of the universe.
It chose to set out alone, drifting endlessly through the cosmos without stopping. This was the fate of an Ancient Emperor—to ultimately chew on this loneliness alone.
The Ninefold Coffin vanished. The entire Mount Sumeru fell silent. Both the Demon-Subduing Pestle and the Nine-Colored Divine Robe gradually dimmed, slowly returning to stillness.
"In a dream, I saw the Immortal Domain open…" the Divine Silkworm Daoist said, gazing into the starry sky.
No one knew whether he had dreamed of the immortal path or wished for his father to sleep like this and see the immortal path after death.
"Master!" A loud shout rang out, startling the group on Mount Sumeru back to their senses.
Whether it was the Divine Silkworm lineage or the Bodhisattvas and Ancient Buddhas, all turned to look. It was a young monk, who appeared quite Buddha-like—kind-eyed, with long ears hanging to his shoulders, and scars on his bald head.
Without a doubt, this was Huahua. After many years, he had grown up, looking simple and honest—a straightforward young man with a certain Buddhist aura.
However, the moment he opened his mouth, he shattered his simple appearance, making him seem out of place.
"Master, you're back! Your precious disciple missed you to death!"
Though he had long ears and a Buddha-like face, his words created a sense of dissonance, his temperament and appearance completely at odds.
"You… weren't you converted?!" The two Arhats who had escorted him were stunned, their mouths agape.
"Alas, Master, you ruined my grand plans. If you'd come a few decades later, I'd have run off with all the female Bodhisattvas on this mountain, leaving the remaining monks to cry their eyes out."
Everyone was speechless. The turn was too sudden. They had been fighting for their lives moments ago, and now this brat had completely changed the atmosphere.
Ye Fan was also at a loss for words. This kid's appearance was exactly like the Ancient Buddha of old. If he stood silently to the side, he would have the bearing of a high-ranking Buddhist monk.
But the moment he spoke, it all fell apart. Especially when he smiled, he looked utterly sly.
"What are you saying?!" Ye Fan slapped him on the back of the head.
"Little bald head, weren't you converted?" Little Que'er and the others also ascended Mount Sumeru along the golden path. At this point, the Buddhist sect no longer blocked them.
Seeing Ye Fan looking at him, Huahua immediately put on a solemn expression, feigning seriousness, and said, "Amitabha, that Tathagata, Huahua, that great Buddha, my master sits in my heart. Wine and meat pass through my intestines. How could they convert me?"
The result was another slap on the back of his head.
Everyone had gone to great lengths to rescue him, only to find that this kid hadn't even lost a hair. They had worried for nothing, and now he was grinning slyly.
The Arhats and Bodhisattvas couldn't sit still either. Huahua's conversion had been witnessed by their own eyes. How was he unharmed in the blink of an eye?
Under Ye Fan's stern gaze, Huahua dared not act recklessly and told the truth.
A flash of light appeared on his forehead, and a piece of Buddha… well, something. Ye Fan patted his shoulder, unsure whether it was comfort or a greeting after their reunion.
He muttered to himself, this guy was also a troublemaker.
After a moment's thought, he spoke to the Western Desert monks, asking them to let Huahua leave the mountain, to escape what he called the "hell" world.
"As a Buddhist disciple, your six senses are impure. Expel him from the mountain!" The Great Peacock Bright King said with a dark face, issuing such a Buddhist decree. He didn't want to see such a disciple for even a moment.
On Mount Sumeru, a group of Bodhisattvas and Arhats saw them off like they were sending away a plague, escorting them down the mountain.
Huahua, like a chatterbox, grabbed the old monk Mahakashyapa's hand and talked endlessly, spittle flying, as if he hadn't spoken in ten lifetimes, with an endless stream of words.
He splattered saliva as he dragged the old monk into conversation, inviting him to leave the mountain and become a protector, to compensate for the hardships of being suppressed all these years.
The Great Sage Mahakashyapa could endure it at first, but later, his white eyebrows twitched uncontrollably. He wished he could slap Huahua to death. He couldn't stand it anymore—this chatterbox's mouth never stopped.
"Master, your beard is all white."
"Master, your shoes are about to wear through."
"Master, were you cut when you were young? There's a scar as big as a bowl on your nose."
…
Listening to these rambling words and the god-like logic, the old monk Mahakashyapa wanted to strangle him on the spot.