Legend Management Bureau Chapter 361

[ … words ]

“Old Seven!” a gruff voice roared. “Stop trying to look so damn cool and come help me!”

Xie Bi’an turned his head and spotted Ox Head and Horse Face nearby, locked in combat with the monk Purna.

All three appeared to be injured. Even though Purna was a Great Luo Golden Immortal, he was struggling against two True Immortals, which was honestly quite amusing to think about.

Seeing Xie Bi’an single-handedly slay Sariputra, Purna turned pale with fright. He immediately spun around, preparing to use a Fleeing Spell.

“Do not let him escape!” Xie Bi’an bellowed, darting forward.

“Whoa! Since when was Old Seven so fierce?!” Ox Head had never expected a mere True Immortal like Xie Bi’an to actually chase after a Great Luo Golden Immortal.

“Then what about us?!” Horse Face asked.

“Fourth Brother!” Xie Bi’an called back to Horse Face as he chased the strange monk. “Bring your Nine-Turn Spirit-Cleansing Whip. We are going to need it in a moment!”

“What?!” Ox Head and Horse Face were momentarily stunned. “Old Seven, are you planning to interrogate that thing?”

Xie Bi’an flew swiftly toward Purna. Watching the monk scramble away in a panic, a smile crept onto his face.

A Paper Tiger was just a Paper Tiger in the end. It seemed the immortal beings in the other battlefields would soon determine their victors as well.

After all, there were plenty of immortal beings across the entire Immortal Realm who were far stronger than him.

……

Yang Jian and Ibaraki Doji stood shoulder to shoulder, rooted to the spot.

Neither of them said a word.

Blood dripped continuously from their bodies.

They both stared silently at the monk before them, lingering waves of fear rippling through their hearts—

Maudgalyayana… this man was simply too powerful!

Yang Jian had, at the very least, fought against He Suoyi before. Although He Suoyi was formidable, Yang Jian, Nezha, and Houtu had completely suppressed him from start to finish. If not for his bizarre spells that allowed him to escape, he would already be dead.

Yang Jian was an Almighty cultivator, and Ibaraki Doji beside him was at least at the early stage of a Great Luo Golden Immortal.

With this level of strength, they would rarely encounter any rivals across the entire battlefield.

Yet, to their despair, after exchanging dozens of blows, Maudgalyayana had not shed a single drop of blood.

Like a true Buddha, he toyed with Yang Jian and Ibaraki Doji in the palm of his hand.

“How could the difference be this massive…” Yang Jian muttered in bewilderment. “Could it be that he is at the peak of the Almighty realm, about to step into the ranks of a Heavenly Venerable?”

Yang Jian fell into an endless spiral of self-doubt. He had trained bitterly for months, yet now he did not even have a chance to strike back.

If the man standing before him was this much stronger than him, the number of people in the entire Immortal Realm who could fight him could be counted on one hand.

Perhaps only a few Heavenly Venerables would have the power to match him in battle.

But could such absurd combat prowess truly exist?

If all the Ten Great Disciples possessed this kind of cultivation, then this war was already lost without a doubt.

“Three-eyes, do you have a plan?” Ibaraki Doji asked quietly.

“To my shame, absolutely none,” Yang Jian replied.

“Why do you not liberate your power?” Ibaraki Doji asked, sounding confused.

“Liberate?” Yang Jian was puzzled. “Liberate what?”

“Liberate your primal form!” Ibaraki Doji said coldly. “With your immense magical power, your primal form must be incredibly formidable.”

Yang Jian shook his head slightly. “Brother, you might be misunderstanding something. I have always looked like this. I do not have a primal form.”

Ibaraki paused, taken aback. “You clearly have three eyes, yet you are a human?”

“Uh…” Even though Ibaraki Doji was speaking the truth, Yang Jian inexplicably felt insulted. “Why can I not be human?”

“If that is the case… could you step aside?”

“What?”

Ibaraki Doji turned to look at Yang Jian. “I am going to use all my strength. I am afraid you will just get in the way.”

“What nonsense are you spouting?!” Yang Jian replied, clearly displeased. “If the two of us had not shared a common enemy, we would have perished by now. How could you accuse me of getting in the way at a time like this?”

“Stop blabbering.” Ibaraki Doji shoved Yang Jian aside. “You are no longer needed here.”

Yang Jian looked at Ibaraki Doji helplessly, at a loss for words.

Ibaraki Doji drew Muramasa from his waist and thrust it into the ground. Yang Jian could faintly hear the blade wailing in anguish.

“Do not rush, Muramasa. I will let you drink blood right now.” Ibaraki Doji raised his head, glaring coldly at Maudgalyayana. “I will let you drink the sweetest of blood.”

With those words, the entire blade began to tremble slightly.

Typically, an artifact gaining sentience was a sign of great fortune, yet Yang Jian clearly sensed nothing but sheer ominousness emanating from this blade.

This was an absolute demonic blade through and through, and there was no telling what kind of curse it would bring upon its wielder.

Piquing his interest, Maudgalyayana chuckled coldly and asked, “The two of you could not defeat me, yet now you wish to face me one-on-one?”

Ibaraki Doji ignored the taunt, asking instead, “Monk, do you know of a place called Luocheng?”

“I do not.”

Ibaraki Doji closed his eyes slightly. His missing right hand slowly began to materialize, as if it were growing back. Upon closer inspection, it was a blood-red, monstrous arm.

He glanced at his newly formed arm, then swung it toward the ground, gouging a deep trench into the earth.

The deep scar lay perfectly straight between the two of them.

“In our Fusang, the gates of Luocheng bore three large characters: Rashomon. Every Yokai in the world knows that outside the Rashomon lies life, while inside the Rashomon is certain death.”

Ibaraki Doji’s figure gradually began to morph, seeming to grow even taller and more imposing than before.

“Fascinating,” Maudgalyayana nodded. “Then, is this humble monk currently standing outside the gate, or inside it?”

Ibaraki Doji did not answer. His body expanded continuously, and his skin turned entirely blood-red, matching his demonic right arm.

“I am the Demon of Rashomon!”

Ibaraki Doji roared. Two long horns erupted from his forehead, and a pillar of terrifying demonic energy rose from the ground, piercing the heavens. His entire being transformed from a frail, slender Yokai into a towering burly man.

The trench that lay between them suddenly trembled violently. With a deafening rumble, a stone door seven or eight meters tall surged upward from the earth. Carved across it in bold, flying calligraphy were three large characters: Rashomon.

Immediately after, a bizarre magical array manifested around the Rashomon, engulfing both Maudgalyayana and Ibaraki Doji, who were standing not far from the gate.

As if receiving a signal, Muramasa, still buried in the ground, began to vibrate frantically, absorbing the massive demonic energy permeating the air.

In mere moments, Muramasa expanded rapidly, transforming from a wakizashi into a massive odachi.

Ibaraki Doji hefted the giant blade, resting it casually upon his shoulder as he spoke in a low drawl:

“Once you pass through the Rashomon, your soul belongs to it in death. Rasho Demon Ibaraki has arrived!”