Chapter 1557: Debts of All Heavens

In the Ximo Pure Land, all was silent and desolate, not even a bird chirped.

Everyone stared up at the sky, still lost in the lingering effects.

Ling Shan had been overturned, the multitude of Buddhas slain, Shijia forced into the mortal world by calamity, and the Di Qi Jiang Mo Chu had fled to an unknown place.

Every one of these events felt unreal.

*Pfft!*

Ye Chen also spat out blood. His once unyielding Huang Gu Sheng Ti bent over, his steps staggered, and he nearly fell from the void.

His whole body glowed with a dim golden light, his golden blood essence was depleted, and his divine eyes had become cloudy and aged, marking the twilight of his life.

After continuous bloody battles, the power of his Sheng Gu had been completely exhausted, leaving him without the aura of a Zhun Di or his once-dominant combat strength.

Yet, even so, every eye that looked at him was filled with reverence, and no one dared to challenge his authority.

"The prestige of the Huang Gu Sheng Ti is all earned through battle," an old Zhun Di murmured, his ancient eyes filled with amazement.

"Slay the demon!" the Buddhas of Ling Shan roared furiously, surging forward with the power of sentient beings' faith, intending to kill Ye Chen to prove their Buddhist teachings.

Ye Chen remained indifferent, his expression unchanged. A teleportation portal appeared behind him, pulling him away until he vanished from sight.

The Buddhas howled in rage, their Buddhist eyes now filled with ferocity.

Their Buddhist hearts were no longer pure, their Buddhist light turbulent, as if they too were on the verge of entering the mortal world through calamity.

"Ling Shan has been toppled, the Buddhas slaughtered, Shijia provoked into the world of tribulation, and even the Di Qi Jiang Mo Chu has departed. This scene is quite the irony," someone remarked with a sigh and a tsk of the tongue as they watched the Buddhas.

"To protect one person, they've fought so fiercely. Such compassion is truly unwarranted," many sighed.

"An old man like me has calculated it—Feng Xian is indeed a source of disaster," the old charlatans chattered nonsense once again.

However, no one refuted the old charlatans' words.

Looking back, everyone Feng Xian had entangled seemed to meet a terrible fate.

Such as the Shen Zi of the Xian Zu and their followers, such as Zhi Yang, and such as the current Ling Shan.

They had all suffered immensely—captured, provoked, or exterminated.

Calling Feng Xian a source of disaster was entirely deserved.

"The show's over," the old Zhun Di said first, turning away with his hands clasped behind his back. He stepped into the void, humming a tune, as if thoroughly satisfied.

"Let's go." The spectators dispersed, each glancing back at Ling Shan and the Buddhas in the sky before leaving.

As they went their separate ways, they carried sighs and tsks, agreeing that their trip to the Ximo had been worthwhile—the spectacle had been truly captivating.

News of these events quickly spread across the four corners of Xuan Huang.

Ye Chen's name soared through this battle. To capture one person, he had clashed with the Buddhas, overturned Ling Shan, slain the multitude of Buddhas, provoked Shijia into tribulation, and even driven the Di Qi Jiang Mo Chu away.

"It really lives up to that truth: Wherever the Sheng Ti goes, excitement follows, and each time, the commotion is bigger than the last."

"From his arrival in Xuan Huang, from the Xuan Huang Star Sea to now at Ling Shan in the Ximo, he's accomplished one shocking feat after another. Every legend of his will become a myth, passed down through generations."

"The power of the Sheng Gu is depleted, so others will likely target Ye Chen," someone pondered, feeling an inexplicable worry.

"It's just that he's made too many enemies—who wouldn't want him dead?" Many sighed over this.

Amid the endless discussions, night fell.

At the foot of Zhu Tian Mountain, shadows moved constantly. Most were people with their hands tucked in their sleeves, squatting on the peaks, their cultivations low and their expressions shifty.

These individuals scanned their surroundings, as if waiting for something.

"I say, will the Sheng Ti really come to Zhu Tian Mountain?" someone asked, scratching their head impatiently.

"Trust me, he will," a sharp-faced, monkey-like young man said confidently. "He's captured so many without killing them—isn't it just to bring them here for the kill?"

"If you put it that way, it makes sense."

"He's here! The Sheng Ti is really here!" As the young man finished speaking, someone pointed excitedly in one direction.

Ye Chen had indeed arrived, landing at the base of Zhu Tian Mountain.

Blood still stained the ground there, not yet dry—the blood of reincarnated souls, spilled here rather than in their homeland.

"I've brought them here," Ye Chen said, gazing at Zhu Tian Mountain as if seeing familiar faces.

With a wave of his hand, he released nearly ten thousand people: Zhi Yang Dao Ren, Feng Xian, the Xian Zu Shen Zi, Tian Can, Zang Tian Shen Zi, Ji Mie Shen Ti, and their followers.

"It's Feng Xian! It's all Feng Xian—she bewitched us!" The moment they were freed, the nearly ten thousand people roared and howled. A dark mass of them knelt on the ground, their eyes filled with terror, their bodies drenched in blood, sending chills through onlookers.

"Then go down and settle accounts with her," Ye Chen said coldly, raising his killing sword. His words carried a majestic tone, piercing to the bone, echoing through the ethereal nine heavens with a desolate and somber ring.

"The sea of suffering is boundless; turn back, and you will reach the shore."

This Buddhist chant did not come from elsewhere but from within Ye Chen's divine sea, like the tolling of a great bell, solemn and harmonious.

Ye Chen's divine sea rumbled, nearly collapsing. He staggered, nearly falling, his head throbbing as if it would split apart.

In his divine sea, a golden Buddha sat suspended, radiating a majestic aura, its Buddhist eyes brilliant and vast.

"Da Ri Ru Lai," Ye Chen growled, recognizing it instantly as the manifested form of Da Ri Ru Lai's thoughts.

As Tai Xu Gu Long had once said, once he cultivated this Buddhist incantation, he would be targeted, eventually settling things with the Buddhas.

Now, over two hundred years later, the thought-form of the Buddha Ancestor had finally appeared, all because of the Da Ri Ru Lai Jing Shi curse, forging a karmic tie with the Buddhas.

*Om, ma, ni, pad, me, hum.*

The Buddha Ancestor's thought-form chanted the Da Ri Ru Lai Jing Shi curse, its Buddhist sound overwhelming, its power irresistible.

*Uh!*

The sword in Ye Chen's hand fell, embedding itself in the ground. He clutched his aged head, roaring in agony.

The Buddha Ancestor's thought-form was too powerful, intent on using the Jing Shi curse to redeem him.

In an instant, the killing intent throughout his body was erased. In another instant, his resolute mind became chaotic.

"What's going on?" The cultivators around Zhu Tian Mountain scratched their heads, staring in bewilderment.

Not only them, but the Xian Zu Shen Zi, Feng Xian, and others were also stunned, unsure what had happened to Ye Chen.

"Lay down the slaughter and attain Buddhahood on the spot."

This Buddhist sound echoed endlessly, carrying the power of redemption.

"Even if I lay down the slaughter, I will never attain Buddhahood," Ye Chen roared, his cry emanating from his very soul.

*Ah!*

A sigh echoed, and the golden Buddha flew out of Ye Chen's divine sea, soaring into the nine heavens and suspending in the sky.

It grew enormous, becoming a ten-thousand-zhang golden Buddha, like a mountain or a peak, radiating ten thousand beams of Buddhist light, solemn and majestic.

It was incredibly radiant, its Buddhist glow illuminating everything. The dim sky brightened because of its presence.

Its Buddhist eyes were serene, filled with compassion and harmony. Countless scriptures manifested within, containing supreme Buddhist law.

"What is that?" Cultivators from all directions looked up, gazing in a daze at the golden Buddha.

"Buddha Ancestor?" The Xian Zu Shen Zi, Feng Xian, and others saw it too, screaming wildly, "Buddha Ancestor, save us!"

"I, the Buddha, am compassionate. Amitabha."

The Buddha Ancestor's thought-form spoke, its Buddhist voice resonating through the nine heavens.

With that single word, it pressed down with immense pressure, forcing Ye Chen to his knees.

"I don't need your compassion," Ye Chen roared, his divine eyes bloodshot, veins bulging on his forehead, a mix of madness and frenzy.

Defiantly, he withstood the pressure and stood upright, his bent Sheng Ti straightening once more.

He drew the Zhun Di sword from the ground, swinging it shakily toward his enemies on the ground.

*Pfft!*

The sword fell, turning swaths of people into obliterated blood mist.

But for this, he paid a heavy price—more than one of his Sheng Gu bones was crushed under the pressure.

"Kill!"

He roared and howled, dragging his blood-soaked body, gripping his blood-stained sword, stumbling forward as he slashed wildly.

Each swing felled groups of people.

Each swing cracked his Sheng Ti further, covering him in fresh blood, turning him into a figure of pure gore.

"Buddha Ancestor, save us! Buddha Ancestor, save us!" While Ye Chen roared, the Xian Zu Shen Zi, Feng Xian, and others bellowed, hoping the Buddha Ancestor would pull them from this sea of suffering.

"Kill." Ye Chen was no longer recognizable, his consciousness in disarray, his vision blurred with bloody tears. Each step left a bloody footprint, trailing a path of blood behind him.

The sword fell, creating pools of blood and dyeing Zhu Tian Mountain red.

Many great sect Shen Zi and great teaching heirs perished in that instant, reduced to dust in history.

"I, the Buddha, am compassionate." The Buddha Ancestor's thought-form sighed lightly, raising a radiant Buddhist palm that descended from the sky.

It was a massive golden hand covering the heavens, inscribed with Buddhist script and a golden swastika in its palm.

This single palm strike was like the end of the world—the heavens trembled, losing their color. As it fell, time froze, the universe inverted, and the void collapsed inch by inch.

"You can't kill me—I'm a descendant of the Phoenix, and she has shown you kindness," Feng Xian shrieked below, her eyes wide with terror, for Ye Chen had already dragged his blood-drenched Sheng Ti to her side, raising his killing sword.

"Blood debts must be repaid in blood." Ye Chen's roar shook the heavens, tears of blood streaming down his face. Even if it meant his own death, he would destroy Feng Xian to avenge his fallen kin.

"No! No! No!" Feng Xian screamed, her eyes bulging visibly, her pupils shrinking to pinpoints.

Before the sword even fell, she felt a bone-chilling cold, as if she had plunged into the nine abysses, doomed to eternal torment in the eighteen layers of hell.

She had no grudge against Ye Chen originally. It was because of the lofty Phoenix Immortal that she, in her arrogance, could not tolerate offense, leading to repeated acts of revenge.

Yet, her attempts to hunt Ye Chen had failed repeatedly, driving her to greater madness.

Now, she would pay the price in blood.

Not only her, but her imperial brother had also met a tragic end, and the proud Phoenix Clan had been shamed because of her.

In her final moments, she finally understood regret.

She regretted provoking Ye Chen time and again, touching his forbidden boundaries and bringing about this miserable fate.

Her nobility, her arrogance, her cultivation and dao, her grand ambitions, her peerless beauty—all would vanish with this single sword strike, becoming nothing but the past.

A flash of cold light, the sword descended, and Feng Xian was slain.

She too turned into blood mist, buried at the base of Zhu Tian Mountain, paying for her crimes in blood.

At the same moment, the massive Buddhist palm also struck down.

That unyielding figure collapsed into the blood pool.

The earth shook as a ten-thousand-zhang handprint imprinted itself, forming a massive mountain that stood between heaven and earth.

"I don't need your compassion," Ye Chen shouted from beneath the mountain, his voice echoing through the nine heavens.

The mountain trembled, actually being lifted by him.

It was a shocking sight—a figure as insignificant as an ant hoisting an eight-thousand-zhang peak.

Cultivators from all sides were petrified, watching in utter astonishment.