Unintended Immortality
Chapter 567: The Demons Have Quite a Few Treasures

Chapter 567: The Demons Have Quite a Few Treasures

The chanting of scriptures echoed endlessly.

All the monks sat unmoving, eyes closed.

Only at the very front sat a fat, pot-bellied monk in a golden robe upon a magnificent throne made entirely of pure gold, his gaze fixed upon the newcomers outside.

The Daoist stepped into the main hall, leaning on his bamboo staff.

The jujube-red horse stopped behind him, standing quietly in the rain. Meanwhile, the tiger-riding little girl followed him inside.

Just as the Daoist’s foot touched the stone floor of the hall, the pot-bellied monk at the front spoke loudly, “Who dares enter here?”

His voice rumbled like thunder, echoing with solemn authority, carrying a gravity that compelled those who heard it to empty their minds involuntarily.

The monks within the hall continued chanting scriptures with closed eyes.

After this thunderous voice, their chanting seemed even clearer and more distinct, reverberating throughout the hall. Each syllable felt tangible, as though drilling into the listeners’ ears.

“...”

Song You scratched his ear, unable to understand their chanting, and simply responded, “You know very well who I am, and you also know exactly why I’ve come.”

Upon hearing this, the pot-bellied monk widened his eyes angrily.

“Since you’ve met the Blessed One, why do you not kneel?”

His voice became even louder, deafeningly powerful, echoing ceaselessly within the great hall. Waves of sound battered everyone’s eardrums relentlessly.

Lady Calico fared somewhat better. Having accompanied Song You for so long and experienced the genuine thunderous voice of the Thunder God himself, she naturally wasn’t intimidated by this petty trick.

However, the tiger beneath her couldn’t withstand it. Its knees buckled, and the mighty mountain lord collapsed helplessly onto the ground. The little girl was confused and quickly tilted her head, anxiously checking what had happened.

Song You merely responded with a simple comment, “How pretentious.”

Instantly, the pot-bellied monk flew into a rage. “How dare you!”

Simultaneously, the monks below abruptly opened their eyes, all glaring angrily, eyes wide with fury, staring fiercely at the Daoist and Lady Calico behind him, who was busy gently patting the demonic tiger, attempting to coax it back onto its feet.

The monks knew very clearly that this Daoist had come to seize their supreme treasure, perhaps even to take their lives. Even if he spared them, losing the treasure was no different from death.

Their earlier display had been an attempt to dominate the Daoist with sheer momentum—after all, in battles of magic and cultivation, spiritual resonance and momentum often determined victory or defeat, life or death.

However, realizing now that their intimidation only worked on the demonic tiger but not on these two intruders, certain acts became pointless.

Yet, maintaining their dignity was still necessary.

The pot-bellied monk at the front glanced around and said directly, “Which Bodhisattva will help me subdue this intruder?”

“...”

A tall and thin monk silently stood, pressing his palms together, and murmured an unintelligible Buddhist mantra. Then, from beside him, he carefully lifted a short sword of distinctly Western style, its silver sheath lavishly embedded with precious gems.

Shing!

Without further ado, the monk instantly drew the sword, chanting in the local tongue, “Beheading Sword, Beheading Sword, sever his head!”

Whoosh!

Immediately, the sword flew out of his hand, soaring into the air.

The sword madly circled around inside the hall, spinning rapidly and gaining speed with each rotation, the entire chamber filled with whistling sounds.

Swoosh...

A fierce wind followed wherever the sword passed, forcing all the monks to lower their heads.

Lady Calico lifted her head, watching it intently.

After several laps, the sword finally locked onto its target, suddenly hurtling straight toward the Daoist’s head.

Spinning violently, the sword was capable of decapitating powerful demons.

Yet the Daoist simply raised his staff to strike it.

Clang!

With a sound resembling metal striking metal, the fiercely flying sword was instantly knocked away.

Just as it had spun upon arriving, it spun again when flying away.

In its path, the sword collided with several pillars in the hall—no matter how thick, each was effortlessly sliced through. Even comparing it to cutting through tofu seemed insufficient, for before the blade, these pillars were like illusions, mere illusions of air easily divided. When the sword finally dropped toward the floor, it nearly struck several monks who scrambled desperately to avoid it; anyone touched by the blade, no matter how advanced their cultivation, would instantly lose limbs or waist.

Eventually, the sword’s hilt hit the ground, bounced several times, and finally settled motionless upon the floor.

The monks in the hall were all shocked at the sight.

The Daoist, however, held up his bamboo staff and examined it closely, a trace of surprise appearing on his face.

A notch had been cut into the staff!

This bamboo staff had accompanied him for over a decade, rarely leaving his side. It had been nurtured day and night by spiritual energy and infused with spiritual resonance, making it anything but ordinary. When he had used it to block the sword just now, he had even infused it with additional spiritual power, reinforcing it to be as hard as diamond. Yet, despite that, the sword had still managed to carve out a notch.

What a fine weapon...

The Daoist gently stroked the notch with his thumb, rubbing it back and forth. After a few moments, the bamboo staff miraculously restored itself to its original state.

At the same time, the tall, thin monk furrowed his brows. Seizing the moment while the Daoist was examining his staff, he gripped the scabbard in one hand and pointed at the sword with the other, chanting an incantation to urge the weapon to attack once more.

The sword obediently rose into the air and began to spin sluggishly as it circled the great hall. However, after completing just one revolution, its speed steadily decreased. When the tall, thin monk commanded it to sever the Daoist’s head, the sword simply let out a dull thud and fell to the ground, refusing to rise again.

The tall, thin monk fell silent.

“How dare you!”

A burly monk abruptly stood up, holding in his palm a golden orb larger than an egg.

Or perhaps it would be more fitting to call it a golden core.

“Buzz...”

The golden core suddenly radiated a dazzling light. Bathed in its glow, the monk’s entire body—skin, hair, even his robes—gradually turned golden. In the blink of an eye, he had transformed into a golden figure.

“Boom!”

The golden figure strode forward, its sheer weight unknown, each step shaking the earth and causing the ground to crack apart.

For a fleeting moment, one might have mistaken him for a Gold Spirit Official.

In no time, the golden figure had charged up to the Daoist. The Daoist simply lifted his staff and tapped forward.

“Boom...”

The golden figure’s steps came to an abrupt halt. Immediately, cracks spread across its entire body from the point where the bamboo staff had touched it. The once indestructible form collapsed to the ground, shattering into countless pieces, still retaining the texture of gold and iron.

“Treasure, treasure! Blind his eyes and ears!”

A monk chanted at an object made of jade, uncertain whether it was an oil lamp or a water vessel.

“Crack...”

The jade object fractured, splitting into two.

The monks in the hall visibly panicked. In a flurry of movement, they scrambled to take out their magical artifacts. Order was abandoned as some chanted incantations, others cast spells, and still others hurled their treasures—each displaying their skills in an attempt to kill the Daoist then and there. Some even made moves toward the young girl.

The hall was instantly filled with a cacophony of noise.

The air shimmered with the radiance of magical artifacts.

Yet, these treasures were effective when dealing with weaker foes, reliable even against opponents of similar strength, and sometimes capable of defeating stronger enemies on their behalf. However, against the Daoist, they were utterly useless. Many artifacts failed to activate at all, while others broke apart the moment they were put to use.

“Golden Awl! Take this Daoist’s head!”

“Bang!”

A monk, second only in stature to the rotund monk, struck the table with the Golden Awl, glaring intently at the Daoist.

“The Golden Awl is useless too!”

Just as the monk hesitated for a split second, the Golden Awl flew out of his grasp.

By the time he realized what had happened, the weapon was already in the Daoist’s hand.

“All Bodhisattvas, attack together!”

With a furious shout, the monk sprang forward.

He seemed to hold a high rank, for his command triggered a chain reaction. The other monks, who had previously been seated with composed postures, immediately leaped to their feet, casting aside any pretense of their “Bodhisattva” demeanor.

Some remained in human form, their expressions contorted with fury, while others tore off their monastic robes, revealing their true forms. In an instant, they all surged toward the Daoist.

The grand hall was soon filled with beasts—gray wolves and snow leopards, brown bears and black bears, along with moose, wild oxen, and more. Those who revealed their true forms were all fearsome beasts or massive creatures. Having cultivated for many years, their bodies were even larger than usual, nearly crushing the hall with their sheer size.

The girl atop the tiger’s back tensed, gripping her small flag tightly before giving it a swift wave.

“Roar!”

Outside the hall, three monstrous creatures immediately charged forward. Their enormous bodies smashed through the hall’s entrance, snapping pillars as they barreled into the horde of beasts.

Following close behind were several stone giants, each stepping forward with thunderous force.

By now, the grand hall had been reduced to nothing but ruins. Amidst the rubble sat a massive, solid gold throne, gleaming brilliantly under the stormy skies. Atop the throne lounged the rotund, big-bellied monk, his form illuminated by flashes of lightning. In front of him stood a multicolored glass platform.

The big-bellied monk watched intently, his gaze filled with caution.

The Daoist, however, remained indifferent, meeting his eyes with calm composure.

Then, he raised a hand and made a slight beckoning motion—

Immediately, the water-element spiritual resonance atop the glass platform began to stir.

“...!”

The big-bellied monk’s expression changed in an instant. His eyes widened in alarm as he shot to his feet, urgently waving his hand to stop the spiritual resonance from leaving. Then, with another sweep of his hand, he summoned a gust of yellow wind.

The sky and earth shifted colors. Even the storm itself came to a sudden halt.