Only Ask for a Clear Conscience

Western Ox Continent, Ten Thousand Buddha Temple.

Li Xingtian stood with a calm expression, gazing at the sprawling grand city built by the endless rows of magnificent Buddhist temples below.

Monks chanted scriptures with serene expressions, their eyes filled with reverence as they looked up at the silent, indifferent Buddha statues—yet not a single glance was spared for the starving refugees dying behind them.

This City of Ten Thousand Buddhas had also erected towering walls, barring all outsiders and their suffering.

No compassion was seen here. No humanity either.

Following his master’s orders, Li Xingtian led a group of cultivators from the Tianyan Sect, including the familiar team under Wang Lin, making the task all the smoother.

As a core Nascent Soul cultivator of the Tianyan Sect, in this untamed land of the Western Ox Continent, his cultivation alone could earn him the title of an ancestor.

And the one leading this expedition was none other than—Yanyun.

The current core disciple of the Tianyan Sect.

A hundred cultivators stood in the sky, the majority of them Nascent Soul experts.

This force might not be enough to sweep across the entire Western Ox Continent, but crushing this isolated Ten Thousand Buddha Temple would be effortless.

The abbot of the temple, a plump and kindly old man wreathed in golden light, was at the early-stage Soul Formation realm. He stepped forward alone to meet Yanyun’s forces, greeting them with a Buddhist salute:

"Greetings, honored guests. May I ask the purpose of your visit?"

Yanyun’s gaze swept over the scene below, her voice icy.

"For over a century, the Ten Thousand Buddha Temple has enjoyed the offerings of the Western Ox Continent’s mortals. Mountains of gold and silver may not have been given, but at the very least, they’ve fed you into this rotund state. And now, with your gates shut, you pretend not to see their suffering?"

The abbot remained unperturbed. "You must be the Tianyan Sect’s current core disciple—Lady Yanyun?"

Yanyun said nothing, her eyes filled with disdain.

"When the Tianyan Sect severed the spiritual veins, did you ever consider that cultivators from other continents would be cut off from their path to immortality, forever trapped where they stood?" The abbot’s face remained gentle as he gestured toward the emaciated refugees below.

"At the very least, the Ten Thousand Buddha Temple shelters them, sparing them from the beasts outside. Feeding tens of thousands is beyond our means."

"Compared to that, I may have eaten a little more, but I’ve never stolen anyone’s future."

"Of course, you could cut me down right now. After all, the rules are in your hands."

"Whatever you say goes—who would dare oppose you? Who would dare expose the truth?"

Yanyun’s eyes narrowed slightly. She knew the monk was twisting words. The Buddhist sects preached boundless compassion, yet they too monopolized the spiritual veins leading to the Western Ox Continent. The Central Continent had never barred outsiders—she herself wasn’t born there but hailed from the Southern Vast Continent.

The Tianyan Sect had never harmed mortals. On the contrary, it was demonic cultivants who preyed on them that faced the sect’s wrath.

The path of cultivation was arduous, but with enough talent and resolve, one could still walk it.

Mortals, however, had no such chance. At the very least, they deserved a life of peace and ordinary happiness.

Just as Yanyun was about to refute him, Li Xingtian stepped forward, clasping his hands in a silent request to take over.

Her impression of him was that of a quiet man—among Chu Xingchen’s disciples, aside from the righteous Lin Luoyu, he was the least likely to provoke others.

After a brief hesitation, Yanyun gave a slight nod.

This was, after all, a disciple raised by Chu Xingchen. Even if he hadn’t practiced verbal sparring, simply being around that man for so long would have sharpened his tongue to mastery.

Had Chu Xingchen been here, he’d have reduced this monk to a blushing mess.

With Yanyun’s approval, Li Xingtian turned to the abbot. Without a word, his spirit treasure, the Ghost Head Blade, materialized, and he swung it down in a single, ruthless strike.

Though the abbot was a Soul Formation cultivator, facing an outlier like Li Xingtian—a Nascent Soul expert with monstrous combat prowess—he had no choice but to retreat.

Li Xingtian wore the illusionary robes gifted by Li Yingling and Chen Baiqing.

The bloodthirsty aura of his blade was masked beneath a pure, snowy glow.

The abbot could see through it, but the mortals below could not.

A crimson tide surged, aiming to shred the abbot where he stood.

Yanyun watched as Li Xingtian spoke not with words, but with steel.

Pointing his blade at the Ten Thousand Buddha Temple below, Li Xingtian roared:

"Deceitful bald donkey! Even in death, you seek to bewilder others? Answer me—do you truly believe your own lies?"

"If you do, then your death comes too late!"

"Today, even if you could spew lotus blossoms from your mouth, even if I couldn’t out-argue you, I’d still tear down this wretched temple and shatter these idols of greed!"

"As for whether this is just—let the world judge. My conscience is clear!"

"Fellow cultivators!"

"Why hesitate?!"

Yanyun didn’t hesitate either. Her spirit treasure sword left its sheath as she stepped forward, beheading the abbot mid-sermon.

In the next moment, countless streaks of light rained down.

Yanyun didn’t join the cleanup below. Instead, she turned to Li Xingtian, curiosity in her gaze.

"Did your master teach you those words?"

"My master doesn’t teach such things." Li Xingtian exhaled heavily. "He only teaches us how to be human."

A faint smile touched Yanyun’s lips, but she didn’t deny it.

To mortals, the Ten Thousand Buddha Temple was vast. To cultivators, it was insignificant.

Wang Lin led the operation personally. Those monks who resisted were shown no mercy, but those who didn’t fight were spared.

Many Buddha statues were demolished, but the main halls and living quarters were left mostly intact.

Countless refugees still camped outside, exposed to the elements. Wang Lin wasn’t reckless enough to act on impulse—especially not with the next sect master watching from above.

Few monks in the temple had reached Foundation Establishment or the fasting stage of cultivation. Most were ordinary men who chanted scriptures, offering their faith as a source of power. The temple had done little to truly help them cultivate.

To sustain these living vessels of devotion, the temple had stockpiled food—likely all donated by followers.

Yet one had to wonder: among the refugees outside, were there former devotees? How must they feel now?

The stored grain, though substantial, was finite. It wouldn’t last long.

The three great sects, composed of high-level cultivators, kept little food in reserve. Though efforts were made to transport more, progress was slow.

"Distribute all the stored grain. Use the cleared maps to guide the refugees—those whose homes are safe may return."

"Leave guards here at the temple. Contact logistics for professionals to manage order. Use your judgment for emergencies."

Yanyun didn’t enter the temple, delegating tasks to those staying behind.

Her journey couldn’t pause here.

Daoist Yuyang had gone to the True Sound Dharma Temple. Chu Xingchen’s next move seemed to be heading to the Bodhisattva Barbarians to find Xu Jin.

Last time, Uncle Bai intercepted the Buddha at Pudu River because only the True Sound Dharma Temple had suffered.

This time, they were uprooting Buddhism’s very foundation in the Western Ox Continent.

Although Huang Miao was currently stationed by the Pudu River, it was unlikely he could hold out much longer.

Thus, time remained of the essence.

At the very least, Chu Xingchen and Xu Jin needed to retrieve the artifact from the Western Ox Continent.

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