Chapter 630 — No Blade in the Buddha Land

" Terror rose in Prince Sunlight's heart, and swift as lightning he thought of a counter: "The sword arts of the lower realm have risen so far that the sword arts of the Heavenly Court can no longer stand against him — unless I do not use the sword at all. Any sword art I use will be all flaws to him; only saber arts or spells and divine powers can contend with him. Otherwise I would already be dead. . .

and indeed, why am I not dead. .

. " He saw Shen Mu's eight thousand swords like a dark cloud, the swords within the cloud swimming like fish, executing a hundred different moves, flying past him — and never striking him down.

Prince Sunlight stared blankly, then looked down, and saw his own body riddled like a broken sieve, pierced through and through with holes of blood, light shining clear from front to back.

His wits were muddled. He raised a hand to his brow, and a finger sank into his head.

He rubbed at the back of his skull; there was a small hole there, the mark of a flying sword that had passed through his brow and out the back of his head.

"So my primal spirit has already been slain.

.

.

" Prince Sunlight swayed and toppled to the ground. Shen Mu's figure stepped over the fallen corpse; he had no idea that Prince Sunlight had undergone so long a train of thought before dying.

"In this day's battle, no sword-cultivator remains in the Buddhist realm! " the youth of the Wasteland laughed aloud. Eight thousand swords pressed down like a dark cloud, and it was all but an assault upon every Buddha-son at once! In that instant almost every Buddha-son responded willy-nilly; Shen Mu's three eyes flashed like lightning, sweeping swiftly over those who blocked his sword art — some hundred-odd Buddha-sons brought out sword arts to oppose his.

The divine powers and primal weapons of the rest were all different, and not a few of the Buddha-sons were of very high cultivation indeed — such as the three Buddha-sons Dharma King Molun had named, Prince Makara, Princess Palong, and Prince Floating Cloud; or the Buddha-son Puzhao, who had once vomited blood fighting the demon-ape Xuanliao in a debate of the Dharma in the void; or the Buddha-son Kongxiang and others, all of them exceedingly formidable. More of the Buddha-sons cultivated the arts of the Heavenly Court and had no great attainment in the Buddhist arts; hence it was some hundred young masters who wielded swords.

Suddenly Yama, the King Buddha, could not bear it. He closed his eyes and said to the other Buddhas, "Let us go.

We can watch no more of this; another look and it will be a river of blood. " Sagara, the Dragon King Buddha, and the other Buddhas nodded one after another: "Truly, we cannot bear to look again.

" So saying, each took up the disciples of his seat and rose into the air, leaving this place and flying to the heavens of their own Buddhist realms. Jiankong, the Buddha-son, stole a look back, and stood stupefied: in the battlefield before that ruined temple, blood-light flashed out — a hundred-odd shafts of blood-light!

A hundred-odd sword-cultivating Buddha-sons had their sword arts broken in a single instant and were cut down in primal spirit or in body, done to death on the spot! Horror seized Jiankong, his hands and feet went cold, and he could not speak.

In that single hurried glance, Shen Mu had already gathered his swords into a pellet, kneaded the pellet into a blade, and split the long saber in two; his feet crossed and shifted, swift as lightning, his body flickering left and right, forward and back, the blade-light too fast for the eye to follow — the saber rose and heads fell, the saber fell and bodies parted!

The two streams of blade-light in his hands were like long dragons, sweeping and closing, grand and free; and suddenly behind him a great gate opened wide, revealing the dark Youdu. That towering gate moved with him, mowing all before it; wherever it passed, Buddha-sons had not time to react before it devoured their souls and primal spirits, leaving behind hollow shells of flesh! Jiankong's scalp went numb, his body shuddered, and he saw the long saber in Shen Mu's hands join and become a spear; with one thrust he nailed Princess Palong upon the spearhead, and with a shake of the great spear that lovely princess burst into pieces.

Then Shen Mu drove the spear into the ground; countless flying swords scattered and became a great bell that clapped down over him and spun madly about him, blocking the divine powers and primal weapons the other Buddha-sons sent at him. Beneath the bell Shen Mu hammered madly, fist and foot, moves distinct, and the savage force passed through the bell to the world outside, shattering the very bones of those Buddha-sons of the combat schools who fought him at close quarters! "Jiankong, look no more," Yama, the King Buddha, sighed. "Another look and your Buddha-heart will be shaken.

" Alarm filled Jiankong's heart. He wanted to speak, but his throat was hoarse and no words would come; he moistened his throat, and his voice was still somewhat hoarse: "My Buddha, Layman Shen slaughters like this — will the Buddhas suffer him?

" "Whether they suffer him or not, what can they do? " Yama, the King Buddha, said in a low voice.

"I have seen him in Youdu. In those years I went down to Youdu, meaning to deliver the wronged souls there, and I met him.

I had thought him dead, yet he lived; and it seemed he had forgotten what happened in his childhood.

Nineteen years now, is it.

. . "