Chapter Fifty-Two: The Samadhi of Universal Light and the Phantom's Bewitching Escape

The Golden Eagle cast a sidelong glance, peering at Qingxia and Qingyu with a haughty air, then promptly closed its eyes, ignoring everyone present. Qingxia and Qingyu felt both embarrassed and frustrated at the eagle's aloofness, yet their curiosity only grew. Laughing together, they said, “Little junior brother, hurry and let this eagle pay us some attention, let us play with him for a while!” Baishi Song and the others were secretly amazed, for such a divine eagle was rare indeed, and they watched closely from the side.

Ye Hua observed his two senior brothers, their sly expressions and greedy gaze, and could not help but find it amusing. “Don’t let yourselves get carried away with Xiaoyao’s mischief,” he began, but before he finished speaking, he saw a group approaching from the opposite side. Leading them was a young man in green, slender in build, high-nosed and broad-mouthed, his complexion dark, his gaze solemn.

Ye Hua fell silent as the youth stepped forward and addressed the group, “An Chengyi of Guangzong Temple pays respects to Senior Brother Bai and all disciples of Bishan Temple.” Baishi Song and his companions returned the greeting. Baishi Song said, “Brother An, do not stand on ceremony. When we compete with Guangzong Temple later, I hope you will show mercy.”

An Chengyi smiled faintly, “Senior Brother Bai, it is I who should say so. Bishan Temple is among the five great Zen monasteries, its Buddhist teachings and martial arts are both profound. How could Guangzong Temple dare to compete with the brilliance of the full moon?” At this, a few young disciples behind him could not help but snicker.

An Chengyi’s brows furrowed, his gaze flashed like lightning, sweeping backward; the laughter ceased at once. Baishi Song took no offense, and after a few polite exchanges, the conversation ended.

Soon, several elders arrived and surveyed the assembly. “Since disciples of both temples are present, let us begin. Bishan Temple’s Ye Hua and Guangzong Temple’s Wang Zhidao, take the stage.” Ye Hua saluted his senior brothers and ascended the platform.

His opponent was a slightly stout youth, plain in appearance, who addressed Ye Hua with a mocking smile, “I heard that Junior Brother Ye is at the Fourth Realm of Seven Treasures, and your Four Noble Truths martial arts have just broken through the third level. Is this true?” Ye Hua was taken aback; the other had clearly investigated him, for all understood the wisdom of knowing oneself and the enemy. Yet few knew his situation so well—how had he discovered it?

Ye Hua bowed slightly, “It is true. I am lacking in skill; I hope Senior Brother will be lenient.” Wang Zhidao replied arrogantly, “Junior Brother Ye, my cultivation is two levels higher than yours. I’ve just broken through the sixth layer of the Path Truth of the Four Noble Truths. I’ll only use half my strength; if you cannot endure even that, don’t blame me!”

The disciples of Bishan Temple below were filled with anger. How could Wang Zhidao of Guangzong Temple be so arrogant! Yet they recalled that only days ago, he was said to be at the Fifth Realm of Seven Treasures—now he claimed the sixth. Was it a ploy to make them underestimate him, or had he truly broken through? Either way, their junior brother was in grave danger, and they grew increasingly anxious.

Ye Hua heard Wang Zhidao’s words and smiled calmly, “I am here to temper myself and gain insight. I hope Senior Brother will not hesitate to instruct me.” Wang Zhidao gave two dry laughs, “Very well. Bishan Temple may be one of the five Zen monasteries, but its reputation may be empty. Today, I’ll broaden your horizons!”

Ye Hua was inwardly furious. To insult his sect was a grave taboo for cultivators. He resolved, “Even if I risk my life, I’ll make sure he suffers.” With that, his Moonlight Sword appeared in his hand, and without another word, his figure became elusive, flitting like a ghost as he advanced.

Wang Zhidao chuckled, and a golden spear appeared with a flash of yellow light. He paid Ye Hua no mind, and as Ye Hua approached within several yards, the spear swept out horizontally, creating dozens of afterimages like a yellow curtain of light, enveloping Ye Hua.

Ye Hua’s form flickered, leaping upward. His Moonlight Sword slashed down, sending a silver arc that struck the light curtain with a clear ring—both vanished instantly.

Wang Zhidao was surprised that Ye Hua had easily blocked his initial move. Before Ye Hua could land, Wang Zhidao thrust his spear upward, shooting dozens of spear shadows like a storm, densely packed and fierce. Ye Hua was airborne and unable to dodge; the audience gasped as the spear shadows neared him. Yet, in midair, Ye Hua twisted strangely and vanished, the spear shadows missing their mark.

Wang Zhidao shouted, “Good, you have some skill!” He spun his spear like a flying wheel, its shadows scattering like a tempest.

At the far edge of the stage, Ye Hua reappeared, sweeping aside the incoming wheel shadows with his Moonlight Sword. His body shook as a powerful force surged through him, causing his blood to churn. He was secretly alarmed, “Such strength!” He dared not block further, instead dodging the close-spinning wheel shadows.

Wang Zhidao was even more astonished. These three moves were his pride, known as “Prabha Samadhi,” a formidable technique from the Great Twelve Gates Sutra, rarely mastered. He had cultivated it for decades and was privately confident, yet today it seemed ineffective.

Ye Hua's movement was erratic as a phantom, dodging every attack high and low, left and right. The spectators were amazed; there was nothing like this footwork in the Wutai lineage—where had he learned it? Cheers erupted from below.

Wang Zhidao was infuriated, knowing the cheers were not for him. He darted to Ye Hua’s side, his right hand pointing the spear, spinning his body, the spear twisting like a venomous serpent. Ye Hua saw the fierce attack, slapped the spear with his left hand, hoping to leap away.

Suddenly, Wang Zhidao’s left hand swelled, transforming into a gigantic claw, blocking Ye Hua’s escape, its fingers sharp as blades, reaching from beneath the spear to seize Ye Hua. He shouted, “Hah, let me show you the Atan Divine Claw!”

Ye Hua’s leap was now fixed; he could not escape. Helpless, he struck out with his right palm to block the incoming claw.

Wang Zhidao was delighted—this was the moment he anticipated. The giant claw clasped Ye Hua’s right palm, fingers tightly gripping, force surging forth. “This boy’s movement is strange; I’ll not let him evade. I'll contest internal energy—my Six Yuan realm versus his Four Yuan. He’ll be crippled if not dead. Ha!” He sent his energy into Ye Hua, overwhelming like a flood.

Ye Hua suffered inwardly—the opponent’s internal force was tyrannical, threatening to rupture his meridians and invading his core, reminiscent of when Lord Huoshu had siphoned his energy. He urgently channeled his Six Yuan Miao Tian Ruyi technique to resist.

The Bishan Temple disciples below were desperately anxious. Their junior brother was no match for Wang Zhidao in internal energy, and they feared for his meridians and future cultivation. Wang Zhidao looked pleased; Ye Hua’s face was flushed as blood—things looked grim. Qingxia and Qingyu shouted, “Wang Zhidao, if you harm Ye Hua, we’ll make you crawl down from the summit!”

Wang Zhidao sneered, ignoring the crowd, intensifying his force. “I’ll cripple this boy! Ha!” Ye Hua’s body was battered by waves of force, but his Six Yuan Miao Tian Ruyi technique ran smoothly within him, solid as rock, swallowing the incoming energy like a whirlpool. His cultivation was now stronger than before, his foundation deeper, and he felt no strain as before.

Wang Zhidao began to sense something was wrong—his own energy entering Ye Hua seemed to disappear, a situation he’d never encountered. Was this boy possessed by some spirit? His confidence faltered.

Ye Hua’s internal energy circulated faster and faster, hungrily absorbing the incoming force. To Wang Zhidao, it felt as if Ye Hua had a subtle suction, at first barely noticeable, then growing stronger, as if Ye Hua was siphoning his energy. Alarmed, Wang Zhidao tried to release his grip and shouted, “You rascal! Release—!”

But before he could finish, he was struck by an overwhelming force, his own energy flooding out like a breached dam into Ye Hua. Panic-stricken, he cried, “J-junior brother, Ye Hua, let go! I concede, I—” His breath became rapid, unable to catch it. “Senior brother, senior brother, An Chengyi, help me—help!”

Thus, the duel reached its dramatic climax.