The Right Protector placed her hands on her hips and laughed coldly at the sky: "You bald donkeys, you don't dare to leave! I can curse you for three days and three nights without repeating myself!"
A Bodhisattva sneered: "Xue Bi'e, all you have left is your mouth!"
"Pay them no mind."
The Old Tathagata on Mount Sumeru said: "If we continue this argument with them, I fear it could last half a year. We've fought for centuries and argued for centuries—there's no need to rush. Let's go stop this battle first."
The monks on the mountain did not linger. The illusory image of Mount Sumeru drifted toward the battlefield.
The National Preceptor of Yankang was still fighting fiercely with the Poor Scholar and others, trying to eliminate these powerful figures before the illusory image of Mount Sumeru arrived. At that moment, the voice of the Old Tathagata drifted over: "National Preceptor, fellow Daoists, might you do us a favor?"
The National Preceptor's sword qi dissipated as he evaded the pursuit of the Poor Scholar and the Bronze Masked Man. He smiled: "Please speak, Tathagata."
"How wonderful. Fellow Daoists, please cease fighting," the Old Tathagata said in a deep voice.
The Poor Scholar and others were about to attack again, but hearing this, they hesitated and paused.
Lord Tianzhen coughed up blood ceaselessly, his heart and lungs damaged by the National Preceptor's sword qi. He shouted: "Old Tathagata, do you intend to join forces with us to eliminate this villain?"
The Old Tathagata shook his head.
Scattered Li's expression changed slightly, and he sneered: "Could it be that the Great Thunder Temple has become a running dog of the Yankang Kingdom, like the Celestial Demon Sect?"
The Old Tathagata shook his head again.
The Poor Scholar said lightly: "Old friend, stop keeping us in suspense. Just say what you have to say."
The Old Tathagata chuckled: "I've come to forge a good karma with you all and settle this matter. You are all cultivators—if this battle continues, who knows how many heroes will fall and how many legacies will be broken. Why not turn weapons into jade silk today, make peace, and sever the karma between you?"
The National Preceptor's eyes flickered, and he remained silent.
The Old Tathagata looked at him and smiled: "The National Preceptor is a good man who once visited my Great Thunder Temple. I spoke of the Dharma and the Great Vehicle with him, forging a good karma. I wonder if the National Preceptor might return this karma to this old monk?"
The National Preceptor said solemnly: "In those days, I was still young and traveled everywhere for study. When I reached the Great Thunder Temple, the Tathagata showed no sectarian prejudice and guided my cultivation. I am half a disciple of the Great Thunder Temple, and I should indeed return this karma. However, how do I know this isn't releasing a tiger back to the mountain? These people are the ringleaders of rebellion—how could they give up so easily? If they revolt again in the future, the people will suffer once more. The Tathagata values compassion and should understand my concerns."
The Old Tathagata smiled: "This old monk will have them take refuge in the Great Thunder Temple and no longer involve themselves in worldly affairs. What does the National Preceptor think?"
The National Preceptor gave no comment.
The Old Tathagata smiled and looked at the Poor Scholar and others: "You were all outstanding figures in your prime—peerless in talent, formidable all your lives, brilliant throughout your years. Are you willing to put down your weapons and take refuge in Buddhism?"
Lord Tianzhen sneered: "Old Tathagata, with you and the Great Thunder Temple joining us, eliminating this villain would be effortless! Do you think that if you let this opportunity slip, your Great Thunder Temple will be safe? Once the National Preceptor eliminates us, he will inevitably destroy Buddhism! Why not strike now with your full might? Show us your demon-subduing techniques!"
The Old Tathagata smiled: "No matter how the National Preceptor treats Buddhism, there will always be people who believe in and revere the Buddha. Whether gods and Buddhas still exist in this world, faith endures. It will not vanish because the National Preceptor destroys Buddhism, nor flourish because he promotes it. If you are willing to let go of your grudges and weapons, come with me. If not, this old monk can only say we have no fate together, and I shall take my leave."
Suddenly, figures plummeted from the sky and landed behind the National Preceptor—they were a hundred or so Yankang generals clad in armor, their bodies drenched in blood, their fighting spirit soaring.
The Duke of Wei shouted in his booming voice: "What's going on? The Tathagata has come to join the fun? Seeking opportunities, are you? National Preceptor, let's finish off this old monk and these bald..."
The National Preceptor raised his hand to stop him, saying softly: "Mutual destruction is not advisable. The Old Tathagata has come to mediate—that is a good thing."
The Duke of Wei was puzzled, not understanding his meaning: "They're just seeking opportunities, taking advantage to recruit these rebel leaders into his Great Thunder Temple to bolster its strength. These rebel leaders are formidable figures—letting them go would be releasing a tiger back to the mountain with endless future consequences! National Preceptor, think carefully!"
The National Preceptor smiled: "The Old Tathagata said that once they take refuge in Buddhism, they will no longer concern themselves with worldly affairs. I trust the Old Tathagata."
"You truly trust him?"
The Duke of Wei's eyes widened: "No hair on the head, no reliability..."
Before he could say more, the National Preceptor raised his hand and said calmly: "The Old Tathagata is the head of Buddhism. His coming to resolve grievances, settle a conflict, and bring peace to the world is an act of great merit. Besides, I am also injured."
On Mount Sumeru, the Bodhisattvas and Arhats turned their heads to look upon hearing this.
The Old Tathagata chanted a Buddhist name, alerting the Bodhisattvas and Arhats. He smiled: "The National Preceptor is willing to resolve grievances. What about you, Poor Scholar?"
The Poor Scholar and others exchanged glances and silently nodded.
If they refused to take refuge in Buddhism, the Old Tathagata would stand by and watch their deaths, departing with the many experts of the Great Thunder Temple. They would inevitably die at the hands of the National Preceptor of Yankang.
This time, the Old Tathagata had brought nearly all the experts of the Great Thunder Temple, demonstrating his determination. If they agreed to take refuge in the Great Thunder Temple, the National Preceptor would not dare to pursue the matter.
The Old Tathagata smiled: "Fellow brothers and sisters, letting go of grievances and karma to take refuge in Buddhism—when all four elements are empty, you will surely attain the Dao. National Preceptor..."
The National Preceptor raised his hand and pointed at the Bronze Masked Man: "Tathagata, he must stay."
The Bronze Masked Man felt a chill in his heart. The Old Tathagata frowned slightly, and the Bodhisattvas, Arhats, and Venerables on the illusory image of Mount Sumeru chanted Buddhist names in unison.
The National Preceptor smiled: "He must stay."
Though his voice was light, it carried an unmistakable tone of non-negotiable finality.
The Old Tathagata sighed: "Good man, you have no fate with our Buddhist sect. Poor Scholar, fellow brothers and sisters, please ascend the mountain."
The Poor Scholar and others hesitated, looking at the Bronze Masked Man. Suddenly, they gritted their teeth, rose, and landed on Mount Sumeru. Together they called out to the Bronze Masked Man: "Old... forgive us!"
"No need to say more. I understand everything."
The Bronze Masked Man laughed loudly: "National Preceptor, how do you intend to deal with me?"
The National Preceptor's face was expressionless: "I will capture you, escort you to the capital, and present you to the Emperor."
"Escort me to the capital to see the Emperor?"
The Bronze Masked Man's tone was strange, and he chuckled softly: "Then we'll see whether your sword is fast enough, National Preceptor..."
He slowly raised his palm and suddenly slammed it heavily onto the bronze mask. The mask shattered into pieces, and the face beneath it was smashed to pulp!
"National Preceptor, the kingdom of the Ling family will eventually be ruined by your hands..."
His head cracked open, and he soon died, yet his body stood there steadily, never falling.
The Duke of Wei and others cried out in alarm and rushed forward, but the National Preceptor stood motionless. He had not intervened to stop the Bronze Masked Man from committing suicide—he had not even shown any intention of doing so.
On a distant mountain, Qin Mu saw this scene, and the corners of his eyes twitched.
When the National Preceptor spoke those words, he was actually forcing the Bronze Masked Man to commit suicide. No matter who lay behind that mask, he would undoubtedly be a high-ranking member of the royal family, a person of great status, someone of utmost importance to the Emperor.
If he were captured alive by the National Preceptor and brought before the Emperor in the capital, it would not only be a matter of the Emperor's dignity—it could even drive a wedge between sovereign and minister.
Whether the Emperor executed him or not would be a dilemma.
Once his true identity was revealed, the Emperor's authority would suffer a severe blow, and there would be whispered speculation in the court as to whether he had been plotting rebellion or had been acting on the Emperor's secret orders.
At that point, the National Preceptor's prestige would surpass the Emperor's, causing more civil and military officials to side with the National Preceptor, while the Emperor would grow wary of him. If the Emperor and the National Preceptor turned against each other, the kingdom would be in danger—and the Ling family with it.
As a high-ranking member of the royal family, he had to commit suicide. He could not leave the Ling family in a passive position or let them lose face.
Therefore, he had to destroy his own face so that no one could ever know his true identity.
And the National Preceptor had not stopped him because he too wished for him to commit suicide. He had no desire to escort him to the capital to face the Emperor. Even if the Bronze Masked Man had not destroyed his own face, the National Preceptor would have helped him do so.
The National Preceptor did not wish to humiliate the Emperor or the Ling family. This was the best outcome.
If the National Preceptor had truly escorted the Bronze Masked Man to the capital, that would have proven he truly intended to seize the throne. As it stood, the National Preceptor had no ambitions for the throne—he merely wished to use the Yankang Kingdom to fulfill his aspirations, to achieve the three establishments and three immortalities.
He wished to become a saint.
On Mount Sumeru, the Tathagata bowed to the National Preceptor: "National Preceptor, matters here are concluded. This old monk takes his leave."
"Safe travels, Tathagata." The National Preceptor returned the bow.
The illusory image of Mount Sumeru drifted westward. The Poor Scholar, Lord Tianzhen, and others looked back to see the National Preceptor order his men to behead the Bronze Masked Man and bury the head on the spot, while the headless body was placed in a coffin to be transported to the capital.
Scattered Li sighed: "Tathagata, if it weren't for you this time..."
The Old Tathagata shook his head: "No need to say more. The National Preceptor is already displeased with our Great Thunder Temple. Let's go—return to the mountain. I suspect that wretched disciple of mine has already taken the opportunity to return to the Great Thunder Temple and reclaim his arm. If we return in time, we might still encounter him."
The monks on the mountain felt a chill.
The illusory image of Mount Sumeru drifted to the hilltop where Qin Mu and the others stood. Below came another sneer: "Thieving baldy!"
The Bodhisattvas, Arhats, and Venerables on the mountain shouted: "Demons and heretics!"
The Old Tathagata shook his head, brought Mount Sumeru to a halt, and looked down. Suddenly he pressed his palms together: "Senior Brother."
The hall masters and protectors on the hilltop felt a chill. The Hall Master of the Sword Hall shook his head slightly at Qin Mu, but Qin Mu waved his hand and bowed with clasped hands: "Senior Brother."
The Old Tathagata showed a look of surprise, nodded, and departed with his followers.
"Holy Master, why did you bow to that old bald donkey?"
The Right Protector Xue Bi'e complained: "Now that your true identity has been exposed and seen by that old thief, it will surely cause trouble!"
"As the Holy Master, when he bows to me as an equal, I cannot fail to return the courtesy."
Qin Mu smiled: "It's impossible for me to hide my identity as the Holy Master forever. Moreover, I cannot let you lose face, nor let the Holy Sect lose face."
Everyone said: "We'd rather not have this face!"