Back Mountain.
A solitary wooden meditation room was hidden deep within the clouds and mist.
The interior was sparsely furnished, containing only a wooden Buddha statue blackened by incense smoke, and an old monk with white eyebrows and beard.
The old monk sat with his back to the door, cross-legged on a prayer mat. He was as thin as a stick, resembling a piece of rotting wood about to burn out.
The three Chief Monks, who dominated the Longyou Jianghu, stood to the side with their hands hanging down, not daring to lift their heads.
Only the Young Monk remained calm and composed.
He walked slowly to the wooden Buddha, offering no bow.
He simply reached into the incense burner, pinched a bit of incense ash, and rubbed it carefully between his fingertips.
"The seas change into mulberry fields, white clouds turn into grey dogs... Senior Brother, you have grown old."
The old monk did not get angry at the Young Monk's rudeness.
He merely struggled to lift his eyelids, scanning the Young Monk's face back and forth.
From the brows and eyes, to the bridge of the nose, and then to the slightly upturned corners of the mouth.
He seemed to be trying hard to superimpose this image onto a face from deep within his memories.
After a long while.
The old monk's withered lips trembled slightly: "... Forget-Infatuation?"
Once these words were spoken.
The three, including Forgetting the Mundane, standing to the side shuddered violently.
Forget-Infatuation?!
How could it be?!
Sixty years ago, this person had already gone missing!
Some said he went mad and fell off a cliff, leaving no bones behind.
Others said he betrayed the sect and died in a foreign land.
But regardless of the rumors, if that person named Forget-Infatuation were still alive today, he should be at least seventy or eighty years old!
How could it be... this Young Monk with red lips and white teeth, who looked no more than twenty?
"Impossible!"
Forgetting the Mundane couldn't help but exclaim in a low voice, "Abbot Senior Brother! Forget-Infatuation went missing sixty years ago. This monk is clearly just a young brat; he must be disguised to disrupt our..."
"Shut up."
Forgetting the Mundane shrank his neck, swallowing the words that were on the tip of his tongue.
The Young Monk watched this scene without paying any attention, instead following up on Forgetting the Mundane's words with a sigh: "Yes... sixty years."
"The clouds of Qituo Mountain gather and disperse, disperse and gather."
"Senior Brother, you have sat in this tiny space, practicing withered Zen your whole life, but have you ever..."
"Touched the threshold of the Entering the Hall realm?"
Abbot Wangyou's body trembled slightly.
It seemed as if a sore spot had been poked, or perhaps he felt an extreme longing for something.
"You..." the Abbot's voice trembled, "Did you go?"
The Young Monk did not answer directly.
He simply extended a hand.
That hand was slender and fair, the skin as delicate as jade, without a trace left by the passage of time.
"The Great Tang has been established for eight hundred years, and the Imperial Court and the aristocratic families monopolize the martial fortunes of the world."
"Mortal martial artists who want to enter the hall must either go to the Martial Temple to wag their tails and beg, or go to the aristocratic families to beg for a scrap of leftovers."
"Even then, it depends on their mood whether they will grant you a bite to eat."
The Young Monk sneered, his eyes full of mockery.
"Back then, you and I, as fellow disciples, pored over ancient books and caught a glimpse of a heavenly secret within those Incomplete Manuals."
"It is rumored that in the far north of the Great Tang, there is a forbidden land called the Immortal Burial Pass."
"There, there is no Martial Temple, and one does not worship gods or Buddhas. As long as you have the means, whether it is mountain spirits and wild Demons, or ghosts and monsters, you can forcibly refine them, seize their spiritual essence, and make it your own!"
"One step to heaven!"
"Unfortunately... back then, Senior Brother, you were hesitant, unwilling to give up the foundation of Baosha Temple, and even more afraid that it was just an ethereal legend and you would die on the road."
The three Chief Monks listened in stunned silence.
Immortal Burial Pass?
Forcibly refining the spiritual essence of Demons?
As Chief Monks, they had never even heard of such secrets!
If such a method truly existed...
Forgetting the Mundane suddenly remembered that he had previously wondered why the Abbot allowed the Black Mountain Bear Lord and other Demons to run amok, relying on the reputation of the Precious Temple, and even to call them brothers.
At the time, they only thought the Abbot was muddled or bewitched by those Demons.
Now it seemed...
"You..." the old monk tremblingly reached out, wanting to touch him, but not daring to.
It was as if he were afraid of shattering a dream he had held for sixty years.
"Junior Brother... did you really... find the Immortal Burial Pass?"
The Young Monk nodded slightly, his expression indifferent.
"Senior Brother, look at this skin of mine. Is there even a hint of aging?"
Upon hearing this, the old monk's breathing quickened.
Rejuvenation!
Even stepping into the Ink Dot Realm, or even Seed Lotus, only delays aging. When had they ever seen such a Heaven-Defying means?
Unless...
The Young Monk smiled.
"Correct, it is precisely the Heaven-Defying art of the Immortal Burial Pass."
"A Mortal's Lifespan is no more than a hundred years. Even if one is lucky enough to obtain a Spiritual Seal and step into the Entering the Hall realm, it only delays aging and allows one to live for another hundred or eighty years."
"Even the Lamp Lighting Realm only has a Lifespan of a thousand years..."
"But what is a thousand years?" He chuckled, his tone contemptuous.
"To this world, it is but a fleeting moment. What use is it?"
"But Demons are different. Demons have long Lifespans, far exceeding that of the Human Race."
"Enter the Immortal Burial Pass, seize their spiritual essence, refine their flesh and blood, and turn the Spiritual Seal to your own use!"
"If it lives for a thousand years, I will rob it of a thousand years!"
"If it lives for ten thousand years, I will seize ten thousand years!"
"This is the true path to longevity!"
Hiss— inside the meditation room, there was a collective gasp of cold air.
Turning Demons into Spiritual Seals was one thing...
but stealing a Demon's Lifespan?
It was simply shocking!
The three, including Forgetting the Mundane, looked at each other, all seeing extreme horror in each other's eyes.
The old monk was trembling all over, tears slowly streaming down his eyes.
"So that's how it is... so that's how it is..."
"I was wrong... I was wrong back then... If I had gone with you back then..."
The Young Monk walked up to him, squatted down, and gently patted the old monk's withered hand.
"Senior Brother, do not blame yourself."
"Now that I have returned in glory, I will naturally not forget our past friendship."
As he spoke, he slowly raised his head.
"If I am not mistaken, that Beast in the back mountain... Senior Brother, you are keeping it in the temple, waiting for the moment it steps into the Ink Dot Realm to perform the act of seizing its spirit, thereby taking one step to heaven and entering the Hall, right?"
The three, including Forgetting the Mundane, realized.
So that was it!
No wonder the Abbot was so indulgent toward those few Demons!
No wonder the Abbot turned a blind eye even when the temple was made into a mess!
It turned out that all of this was just for that final moment!
The old monk was silent for a long time.
Finally, he sighed, "Junior Brother... your Wisdom Eye is like a torch."
"Unfortunately... I am ultimately dull in Aptitude, and relying only on the few words in the Incomplete Manual, I have no confidence in being able to refine it."
"If I fail, I will die and my Dao will vanish, becoming food in that Beast's belly."
He raised his head, his cloudy eyes filled with a glimmer of hope.
"Junior Brother..."
The Young Monk smiled as gently as jade.
"Rest assured."
"Since Junior Brother has returned, then Junior Brother will help you."
Having said that, he turned, flicked his large sleeve, and walked out the door.
His voice was clear, echoing through the mountains and forests.
"Let's go, Senior Brother, let Junior Brother help you step into the Ink Dot Realm!"
The three men hurriedly helped the old Abbot, stepped over the threshold, and followed closely behind the Young Monk.
Forgetting the Mundane stared at the young figure ahead, his breathing gradually becoming heavy.
The Martial Dao is difficult; the higher one goes, the narrower the path becomes.
Why can the Imperial Court suppress the world?
Isn't it because they control the Martial Temple, the ticket to entering the hall?
Why can the major aristocratic families and sects be high and mighty?
Isn't it because they monopolize that trace of heaven and earth's spiritual essence?
But now...
Plundering Lifespan.
Forcibly refining Spiritual Seals!
If... if it could really work...
Baosha Temple would no longer just be a power in this Longyou Region.
A hundred, a thousand years later...
what kind of terrifying power could they accumulate?
By then, a mere Longyou Commandery would be nothing!
That so-called suppression by the Imperial Court would also be nothing!
Even that old Emperor sitting high on the dragon throne in Chang'an City would likely have to lower his head and be submissive to his Precious Temple!
The Precious Temple... shall rise!