Chapter 61: Blasting Your Buddha’s Head to Pieces!

The golden light streaked through the air at astonishing speed. The black mech brought its two arms together before its chest—click, click—the sound of parts assembling echoed, and the two mechanical limbs fused, forming a diamond-shaped shield. Golden veins extended across the shield, weaving a symbol that protected its body.

Sizzle! The golden ray struck the shield, and a torrent of golden exhaust burst from the mech’s back, trailing a length of flame, yet the body was still forced to retreat. The golden vortex at its abdomen spun even more violently, as if a galaxy flowed within. The shield’s golden veins shone bright, complex runes reinforcing it; this mech did not rely solely on technology, but wielded the power of arcane arrays as well.

The golden ray lost momentum, and the mech halted its backward slide. Just as its pilot was about to catch her breath, a shadow engulfed her—a glance at the mask’s sensors revealed what it was.

The giant beast, having just unleashed its supernatural power, let out a thunderous roar. Its enormous foot crashed onto the earth, carving fissures hundreds of feet long. Its massive body leapt skyward.

A fist the size of a mountain radiated golden light, carrying an unstoppable force, and crashed down upon the black mech.

A seam opened at the mech’s side—boom! Blazing exhaust erupted, trying to escape the fist’s reach, but it was too late.

Bang!

The ground shuddered violently, dust and leaves thrown several yards high. Spiderweb cracks radiated from the beast’s fist, extending nearly a thousand yards across the earth.

Suspended in midair were fifty names, and one of them lost its glow.

The scene shifted. In a tidy chamber, the black mech appeared out of nowhere, its body riddled with cracks, the golden vortex at its abdomen dim and lifeless.

In this competition, Tian Qin would never allow the prodigies of rival factions to die within the realm. As soon as someone was judged to be in mortal danger, the secret domain would teleport them out, stripping them of the right to continue in the tournament.

Click, click—the mask split open, revealing a delicate face. The pilot was a woman, her expression clouded with frustration. Her luck was truly abysmal; she had been teleported directly before the fearsome beast known as the Golden-Furred Ghost Ape.

Such monsters were a subspecies of the Battle Saint Ape. Though their supernatural powers were limited, their raw strength rivaled the saints themselves—utterly impossible to resist!

“Don’t look so glum, General Ferg. To last so long against the Golden-Furred Ghost Ape is an honorable defeat…”

The Taoist seated beside Ferg raised a crystal goblet and took a sip, his face suffused with pleasure as he spoke. He was the leader of the Dao Alliance’s delegation, an expert in every vice imaginable.

Next to him sat the head of the Instrument Kingdom's contingent—the woman in the black mech was his subordinate. Losing such a key player right at the start, without even having done anything, left him thoroughly dejected.

“Yes, yes…”

“To contend with the Golden-Furred Ghost Ape’s lieutenant for so long—how many of this era could claim the same?”

Friendly factions chimed in, offering comfort.

Cough, cough…

A sudden cough drew their attention. Zhou Tian was hunched over, gnawing furiously at a pork knuckle—an enormous one, too. The battles had ended, yet he still hadn’t finished.

The group fell silent, having forgotten about the man who had made even the Saint King kneel…

Li Lingyi’s face was dark as charcoal. They were all peers; did these people really think he couldn’t sense their furtive glances?

Zhou Yi’s face was all smiles, and so was his heart.

Ferg’s face was nearly as long as a donkey’s.

The recent battle had occurred just as they entered the secret realm. Thanks to a time-acceleration array, several days had actually passed for the participants by the time the mech pilot finished her fight.

Apart from this unlucky soul, the others had avoided such encounters. Everyone was cautiously mapping the terrain, seeking out any dangerous monsters to avoid. Each tournament’s secret domain was unique, so there was no precedent to follow.

The realm’s map was not vast. After initial exploration, encounters were happening one after another. At this early stage, most people would turn away upon meeting someone from their own faction—there was no need to fight. As for forming alliances, that was out of the question; with so many elders watching, this was just a minor tournament. To try and form alliances would be utterly disgraceful…

Battles broke out intermittently, and eliminations followed. Every cultivation realm had its strong and weak, and the Manifestation Realm was no exception.

Most of the participants from the other provinces were among the elite of their factions—not the absolute best, but skilled enough that instant defeats were rare. Only one battle saw such a scene.

On one side stood a monk from Luo Tian Temple; on the other, a Tian Qin contestant—not from the imperial capital, but a wild-looking figure dressed in a tiger-skin skirt, hair loosely draped, bare-chested, muscles knotting like ancient tree roots, old scars crisscrossing his body. On his back was a blood-red longbow, seemingly made of blood crystal, its tip adorned with barbs for close combat.

Zhou Tian listened to the nearby elders discussing: the man’s name was Nan Qing, son of the Barbarian King from the Southern Wilderness. He was two years older than Zhou Tian and his peers, a veteran of the Manifestation Realm, renowned for his strength. Zhou Tian vaguely recalled seeing his name on some unreliable ranking, but hadn’t paid much attention.

To call it a battle was generous. How Nan Qing managed it was unclear—the monk was a thousand yards away, far beyond the Manifestation Realm’s divine sense, yet Nan Qing somehow spotted him. Hard to believe, isn’t it?

Upon seeing the monk, Nan Qing immediately drew his bow. The blood-red bow gleamed wickedly; the arrow was forged from unknown black metal, its fletching crimson, like a burning flame.

Blood-red runes gathered, myriad reinforcing arrays appeared on the longbow. The moment the arrow was released, it vanished into the void.

The monk’s reaction was quick enough. Feeling himself targeted, golden scriptures swirled around him, and a golden Buddha materialized, solid and serene, attempting to save the world. The chanting resonated, the Buddha’s realm descended—but it was useless. The arrow blasted through the Buddha’s head, eliminating the monk.

In the great hall, Zhi Kong, the monk from Luo Tian Temple, twitched at the corner of his eye, pressed his palms together, and solemnly intoned,

“Cnm…s…Amitabha.”

After destroying the Buddha, Nan Qing’s rugged face remained expressionless. He caught the returning arrow, stowed it in his quiver, and casually chose a direction to leave.

It seemed he bore a grudge against monks; for, just before obliterating the Buddha, he had faced off with a mech-wearing opponent for a moment and departed, perhaps lacking confidence. Yet he turned and shot the monk’s head to pieces without hesitation…