Chapter 126: The Transcendent Buddha’s Disciple Ascends to Bliss
“Are you willing to enter my White Horse Temple and become this poor monk’s mount?”
“In the future, if you achieve success cultivating in my White Horse Temple, you may even become one of the Eight Heavenly Dragon Guardians.”
Hearing Jingyue’s words, Mo Lin was stunned and glanced at him with a slightly higher regard.
This bald donkey had just lost a large chunk of his soul to Mo Lin’s bite, and yet he still managed to suppress his anger and desire for revenge, even going so far as to extend an invitation.
That was truly rare.
Unfortunately, Mo Lin was not interested in the terms of this invitation.
His days were going just fine at the moment—why would he go and become a monk’s mount?
As for cultivating in White Horse Temple in the future and becoming one of the Eight Heavenly Dragon Guardians?
Heh, just an empty promise, nothing but a pie painted in the sky.
Whoever believed that would really have their whole life ruined.
He had no patience to exchange more words with Jingyue, and only had three words left for him:
Not worth it.
A water dragon rose out of thin air and rushed at Jingyue.
Jingyue avoided the attack, nearly stumbling again.
He masked his weakness without showing it, pretending to look profound as he faced Mo Lin:
“What a pity, Flood Anaconda Demon. Refusing this poor monk’s proposal may well be the greatest mistake you make in this lifetime.”
Mo Lin flicked out his snake tongue with disdain:
“Is that so? Then do you want to try that so-called ‘Dual Dream’ again? To be honest, it was my first time eating another’s soul, and I haven’t had enough yet.”
Jingyue’s face twitched once more.
He took a deep breath, pressing his fury down:
“Enough, Flood Anaconda Demon. Since you refuse to turn back and insist on being a mere wild beast, one day I will surely subdue you and avenge my junior brother Jingchen.”
With that, Jingyue no longer asked about the whereabouts of the Golden Circlet and directly drifted away.
Mo Lin had already seen through his soul technique and was on guard now. Striking again at this moment would be ill-timed.
Moreover, Jingyue’s soul was in no good shape either. If he fought Mo Lin head-on, even if he managed to kill him, he might suffer irreversible damage.
Thus, it was better to withdraw and wait for the next opportunity.
However, just as he turned, Mo Lin spoke indifferently:
“Did I say you could leave?”
“Come and go as you please—what do you take me for? A public latrine?”
With that, Mo Lin spread his wings, beat them once, and chased after Jingyue.
With a dive, he directly knocked Jingyue back to where he had started.
Jingyue caught the impact with both hands, secretly clenching his fists behind his back as his arms went numb.
His face grew grim.
Normally, even if he wasn’t skilled in martial arts, he wouldn’t be this pathetic. But the exhaustion of his soul was making him suffer greatly.
That one collision made him feel as though his very soul had been knocked out of his body.
He couldn’t help but curse Mo Lin again in his heart:
If not for this Anaconda demon devouring part of his soul in the dream, how could he have ended up in such a miserable state?
But Mo Lin gave him no chance to recover.
The eight slashes Jingyue had left on him in the dream were still carved painfully in his memory. If he had awakened immediately back then to face Jingyue in battle, the outcome would have been uncertain.
But Jingyue had been overly confident in his dream techniques, certain he could kill Mo Lin within the dream.
Who would have thought that Mo Lin would turn the tables, devouring a portion of his soul to nourish his own? This had greatly alleviated the pain of those eight slashes.
Meanwhile, Jingyue, who had already exhausted himself heavily, suffered further injuries.
A wounded soul weakened control over the body. And since Jingyue’s martial skill was inferior to begin with, the imbalance tipped even further in Mo Lin’s favor, pushing him to the brink of defeat.
Finding himself unable to escape or fight back, Jingyue grew desperate:
“Flood Anaconda Demon, why not reconsider my earlier proposal?”
“You don’t need to be my mount. After assessing your strength, I believe you are no weaker than I. If you are willing to enter White Horse Temple, I will personally recommend you to the abbot.”
“With my recommendation and your outstanding talent, within fifty years—no, within thirty—you will surely touch the threshold of the Heaven Rank.”
“Well?”
Hearing this “plea,” Mo Lin flew into a rage:
“How dare the White Horse Temple try to mislead me?!”
His strikes grew even more violent, battering Jingyue miserably, who had no idea what he had said to anger Mo Lin so much.
But he did not understand—what was a blessing for others, “reaching Heaven Rank in thirty years,” was not the same for Mo Lin.
Thirty years?
Was that short?
He had gone from nothing to mid Earth Rank in just a few years.
It had only taken him five years.
He was confident he could break through to high Earth Rank in three years, then touch the Heaven Rank threshold in seven more.
That was just ten years.
And yet White Horse Temple would forcibly drag him back twenty years. If that wasn’t sabotage, what was it?
Thus, Mo Lin paid no heed to Jingyue’s attempt at recruitment, seeing it instead as a disguised plea for mercy. Even without White Horse Temple, he would step into Heaven Rank on his own.
Mo Lin lashed his tail, raising countless water dragons throughout the forest, striking at Jingyue in turn.
“Spatial Imprisonment” once again proved its worth.
With it activated, Jingyue felt his soul’s command over his body becoming even less coordinated—
His mind urged him to dodge right, but under the imprisonment, his body remained in place.
When he willed himself left, his body finally moved sluggishly right.
This discord between soul and flesh made Jingyue nearly vomit blood.
He knew this was a side effect of soul injury—given time and rest, he would regain unity between body and spirit.
But with Mo Lin refusing to let him go and casting “Spatial Imprisonment” to worsen the dissonance, his suffering doubled.
After several exchanges, Jingyue was covered in wounds, his earlier aura of a transcendent Buddha’s disciple long gone.
At last, Mo Lin caught him in a mistake—his massive tail pierced straight through Jingyue’s abdomen.
“Ugh…”
Jingyue held onto the tail protruding through his body. Instead of fear of death, he oddly felt relief—
At last, his soul and body sensations had unified.
“Flood Anaconda Demon… you killed Jingchen, and now you kill this poor monk… White Horse Temple will not let you go…”
Mo Lin frowned, staring at Jingyue in his final moments:
“Tell me—how did you know I killed Jingchen? And how did you find me?”
Blood at his lips, Jingyue chuckled at him:
“The abilities of White Horse Temple are not for a mere Anaconda demon to guess at.”
“When I first invited you to White Horse Temple, I did have some pity for your talent, wishing to guide you into our temple… But you refused…”
“In that case, this poor monk shall await you in the Western Paradise.”
“Hehe… You must know—death is not the end, but another beginning of the soul…”
With that, Jingyue’s head slumped, and he died.