Chapter 363 (1/2)

Chapter 363: Killing Oneself and Others Due to Compa.s.sion &

Chen Pipi looked like a harmless and adorable chubby man. But actually, he was an amazing fighter. That was why if there was something that could distract him for a second when he was determined to do something, that thing had to be something amazing.

When his large Academy uniform started to flutter without the wind, and when he raised his right arm and pointed his fingers, the skinny martial monk, who had silently guarded the middle-aged monk, appeared in front of his fingers. His face, which looked as if it were carved from steel, showed no expression.

Chen Pipi's cultivation state was very high, but the martial monk could react faster, which meant that they had a plan. And he knew that the middle-aged monk would use a benevolent and cruel divine skill of the Buddhist Sect, the blood sacrifice to Buddha. This meant that, even if the middle-aged monk had not discovered that Ning Que had joined the Devil, he was prepared to use devil vanquis.h.i.+ng methods on Ning Que to cripple him.

However, even if the skinny monk was prepared and could react quickly and move to stop Chen Pipi's finger, he could not really stop the Natural Stream Magical Finger that came from the Academy's no-boundary spirit. Even though his face and body looked as strong as steel, it was still mortal flesh.

The martial monk did not hesitate. He pulled out a sharp knife from his sleeves at the speed of lightning. But he did not stab at Chen Pipi, instead, he stabbed at his own abdomen viciously.

There was a tearing sound, like how a skin pouch full of water sounded when pierced by an arrow. The sharp knife was wedged deep into his belly. The martial monk's face became pale, but his eyes remained determined. He did not hesitate and pulled the knife downward and the blood flowed out with a gus.h.i.+ng sound.

The martial monk's intestines flowed out along with the blood from the hole that the knife had made. The intestines emitted the stench of blood as well as his body heat.

The martial monk covered his wound with his left hand and cradled his intestines. He looked at Chen Pipi numbly, as if he could not feel the pain.

A drop of blood fell on Chen Pipi's fingertips.

He stared at the scene before him with wide eyes, not knowing what the monk was about to do.

Chen Pipi had never killed anyone before. Nor had he even partic.i.p.ated in a true battle or seen the life-and-death fight in a battle. He had not seen anything so b.l.o.o.d.y before.

He had only fought in the Winter Courtyard of the Chang'an Local Government with w.a.n.g Jinglue. He won easily thanks to his much higher cultivation state.

Chen Pipi had always thought that the battles between cultivators were as easy and casual as that. Until today, when the martial monk had torn open his abdomen and cradled his intestines, he had just understood that a true battle had nothing to do with one's state or att.i.tude or manners. It was only about victory and loss. Only life and death mattered.

The martial monk did not hesitate for one second to sacrifice himself to distract him and mess up his psyche. That was some kind of spirit—worthy of respect or even feeling scared.

The martial monk's face became extremely pale. He looked at Chen Pipi calmly and said in a slightly trembling voice, ”I have cut myself

open. Please, Mr. Twelve, respect the rules.”

The two monks from Yuelun Kingdom were well-prepared for their meeting on the streets of Chang'an. They clearly knew the history of the Second Floor of the Academy, and knew that, in that place, rules did not matter. That was why they had not hesitated to sacrifice their lives to challenge their rule of not following rules.

The b.l.o.o.d.y scene in front of him and the pink intestines in the martial monk's left hand were a shocking lesson to Chen Pipi. This shock might not be able to change the education about rules that he had received at the Academy, but it was sufficient to stun him for a moment.

This brief moment was more than enough.

Because the battle between the middle-aged monk and Ning Que would end within a second.

The middle-aged monk was strong, for he could rid demons by using his mind.

Chen Pipi's fingers trembled in the morning breeze of Chang'an.

The middle-aged monk focused on Ning Que, and there was no need for him to have any defense. He just had to point at him, and that would be enough to kill Ning Que. However, he knew that the battle had ended, and Ning Que was dead. If his Younger Brother was dead, anything he did would be meaningless.

Chen Pipi's face trembled and he looked extremely miserable.

He decided to kill the two monks in front of him,

even though he had guessed that there was something odd about the ident.i.ty of the middle-aged monk,

and even though he had never killed anyone before.

In the Eldest Brother's opinion, Ning Que did not look like someone who would have a short life, but he had now died.

Then why would they have to follow the rules of this world?

The fastest thing in the world was not fog or rain or wind, but lightning.

Mortals often used the word lightning to describe the psyche.

When one's psyche moved, there was nothing that could catch it.

That was why many things could happen in the spiritual world in just a second.

When the middle-aged monk painted the blood on his face and used the blood to strengthen the Buddha skill, many shocking images were displayed, and changes happened in the s.p.a.ce in which Ning Que's psyche resided.

The 10-foot-high stone Buddha statue had been standing silently. After the stone rain, the line beneath his nose, which had not opened for a thousand years, suddenly opened, and then the Buddha had a mouth.

Two thick streams of blood flowed like molten iron from the mouth of the stone Buddha.

The two streams of blood did not drip to the ground. Instead, they ignored the laws of gravity and floated out in all directions. The b.l.o.o.d.y water gradually covered the huge Buddha's face.

Many deep cracks appeared on the Buddha's face, like dry cracking earth, as if it was engulfed in blood. However, when the cracks were soaked in blood, they looked more like the wounds of thousands of people.

There was a strong pressure coming from the stone Buddha, spreading throughout the s.p.a.ce.

The stone Buddha's stately face was covered with numerous tiny wounds. It should have looked gory when it was soaked in blood, but it seemed more merciful instead, as if the gold paint had flaked off, only leaving behind the vicissitudes of life.

The blood on the stone Buddha grew thicker and thicker, and so did the sense of grief. All negative emotions caused by wars, separation, and grief seemed to have been absorbed by the Buddha's face,