Nightfall

Ning Que knew that the old monk was praising the Academy for admitting someone like him. It would take an unimaginable amount of guts and an inclusive attitude. That was why the Academy deserved admiration.

He said proudly, "In this world, victory belongs to the Academy."

The old monk said mockingly, "However, the Academy will end up in ruins."

Ning Que replied, "Everything in the world would. However, at least the Academy would not turn into ruins from your curse."

The old monk looked at the severely injured and weak lad who was proud and confident. It felt as if he was looking at the old friend from many years ago. After a moment of silence, he suddenly asked, "How long has Ke Haoran been dead for?"

Ning Que was startled and said, "I do not know."

"I’ve once told him that the Haoran Sword had joined the Devil’s path, but he did not care. I warned him that he would be punished by Haotian should he continue to be so prideful, and yet, he did not care either. I’m sure that he has long turned into ashes and has been scattered throughout every stream and every mountain in this world. I wonder if he is still as proud right now. Hahaha..."

The old monk lowered his head and laughed like a madman. A single turbid tear appeared at the corner of his eye.

Ning Que said, "Youngest Uncle should be proud even in death."

The old monk raised his head and looked at him coldly. "But he still died before me. I have won."

Ning Que said mockingly, "Some has died, but he is still alive. Some is still alive, but he is already dead."

The old monk said emotionally, "You have such a sharp tongue on you."

"Will I succeed next time?"

Ning Que suddenly asked sincerely. His body was still shaking beneath the cotton shirt. While this method expended a lot of energy, it was the only way to retain one’s mobility when one’s mental state was under the control of a person in a terrifying state.

The old monk looked at him and said sincerely, "There will be no next time."

Ning Que replied, "You are indeed the strongest person in existence that I can imagine. However, you are a defeated ruler who have been imprisoned for decades while I am a fierce young tiger who have just left the mountain. The Confinement that has blocked the Qi of Heaven and Earth has no impact on me. I am used to relying on my strength. There is no reason why you should recover faster than me."

The old monk smiled lightly and said, "You do indeed have a sharp tongue. It is a pity that I am so old I don’t have any teeth."

He lowered his head and took a bite out of Ye Hongyu’s naked shoulder after he said that.

Ye Hongyu’s brows raised violently, but she refused to lower her head. She glared at the old monk who was chewing on her flesh as if she was imprinting the image in her mind. She would not want to forget this even when she entered the Underworld.

The old monk did not have any teeth. He used his gums to chew with great difficulty like a toothless old lion on the brink of death trying to tear apart the solid meat of a doe. Fresh blood dribbled from wrinkled lips.

After a moment, the old monk raised his head and looked at Ning Que with a small smile. "You want to waste time away, so do I. After I digest the first mouthful of flesh, I will absorb the second even faster. You don’t have to attempt to struggle. You’d be happier welcoming death peacefully. I will destroy this Confinement and emerge from the mountain once I eat all three of you and regain my powers. Then, the world will be mine, and it could be said that it belongs to you three too."

The old monk’s voice was slightly muffled due to the flesh in his mouth. However, it was as warm as the waters in spring. Blood dripped from his aged lips, wrinkled skin and chin, but his smile was benevolent and looked like it was plated with Buddha light. The Bone Mountain and dead bodies beside him looked like a sacred lotus throne, emanating light. This image that hovered between Buddha and the Devil was extremely scary.

Ning Que knew that what he said was true. He thought through all his ways of staying alive but did not find any that would break the status quo right now. No matter the pouch that Master Yan Se gave him, the Primordial Thirteen Arrows, or the Fu character on his podao, they all required a connection with nature before they could unleash their true powers. He could not help but think of death silently.

He stared at the old monk and said resolutely, "The world will not become yours even if you can get out of here."

The old monk thought of that glimpse of a sleeve of a robe. He smiled, "I have already joined the Devil. Would I be afraid of the powers of this world?"

Ning Que shook his head and said, "There is still the Headmaster of the Academy in this world."

The old monk descended into silence. And then, he said, "The Headmaster of the Academy would eventually die. Those from the Academy are too proud. The prouder one is, the easier it is for them to die. This is the fate of the Headmaster of the Academy. And this is the fate of the Academy. It cannot be changed."

Ning Que frowned and said, "You’re speaking nonsense."

The old monk suddenly asked, "Who is the empress of the Tang empire in Chang’an? How many great generals in the Peak state of Martial Arts have appeared these years? Have the Devil’s Dance appeared again? Did the Headmaster of the Academy rush up and get revenge on the Peach Mountain after Ke Haoran was punished? Wait, there’s something that’s not right. This young lady said that she was the Grand Master of the Judicial Department. Does that mean that the Divine Hall has yet to be destroyed?"

Ke Haoran’s punishment and the Headmaster of the Academy heading to the Peach Mountain; in his eyes, it seemed that the Divine Hall on the Peach Mountain would have been destroyed. However, he knew that the West-Hill Divine Palace still existed, so he could not help but wonder for he believed that his plan was fool-proof.

Ning Que did not know how he should answer the questions. It felt like the crazy questioning from a lunatic, but the questions were full of history and dust. And within the dust, laid many hidden secrets that cannot be told.

"I have planned many things before the Front Gate was destroyed. I arranged for the saintess to head south. I believe that she would complete what I have asked her to do. I have arranged for many disciples to head south. I trust that one of them would be able to complete the task I had set."

The old monk looked at him and grinned slightly, his smile was so full of confidence it looked a touch tyrannical.

"Back then, the Enlightenment Doctrine had already started to rot. I do not think that it is a pity that it was ruined by Ke Haoran. On the burnt ground, new sprouts will grow. I would rather set up a new Devil’s Doctrine on ruins. The new Devil’s Doctrine transplanted on the rich soil of the Tang empire would definitely flourish and thrive."

"I believe that my plans must be in motion after so long. I just have to wait quietly for the Headmaster of the Academy to pass away once I get out of here. Who do you think the world would belong to then?"

Ning Que’s body felt extremely cold when he heard that. He wondered to himself if there were many powerhouses of the Devil’s Doctrine hidden around Chang’an. Had all these people heeded his order to head south? If they allow this man to leave the Front Gate of the Devil’s Doctrine, what kind of storm would the world weather?

"You must have thought that Youngest Uncle would kill you then. Even if you have hidden so many people and set up plans in the Central Plains, what is the point of them once you are dead?"

The old monk looked at him in ridicule. He looked at Ning Que like how the white snow on a snow peak would look at a summer worm. He said, "Even if I were dead, my plans would still survive. Ordinary people like you would never understand. A person’s life or death did not matter. What is important is whether we can change the old world and welcome a new one. And then, we can use the abilities of the new world to change certain rules. Why would it matter if I died if I can do all of that?"

Ning Que asked, "What rules?"

The old monk replied, "The rules of Greater Taoism."

Ning Que asked, "If... you couldn’t change anything after plotting for your entire life, then what?"

The old monk smiled and answered, "At least I have worked hard at it."

Ning Que furrowed his brows and said, "You would not hesitate to have the world die with you just because of your attempt?"

The old monk said calmly, "What has the end of the world to do with me?"

This was perhaps where plotters derive joy, Ning Que thought to himself silently. He really admired the old monk’s plot. However, he was also extremely frightened, for it was always difficult to emerge victorious when in a combat with lunatics.

At this moment, the world-renowned Master Lotus was a complete lunatic in Ning Que’s eyes. Ning Que did not understand what he was saying. Even if he did, he did not know whether it was real or not. He could not even make a sound judgment on what the person saying all that was like.

The old monk was sometimes as innocent as a newborn baby, sometimes, he was as violent as an unreasonable woman in the market. Sometimes, he was as passionate as the young scholars in the capital who wished to save the world; and at other times, he was like a young swordsman who was full of pride, wanting to fight all evils in the world with a sword. At times, he was like a benevolent Buddhist Bhadanta, and at times, he was cruel like the devil himself.

No matter which image he resembled, it could compare to the real deal. One could not see any signs of falseness and each facade was inherently different but came from his heart. It was so pure, it made one’s heart flutter. If he wanted to become a Buddha, he would. And if he wanted to become the devil, he could. He viewed the world as a true Buddha and a true devil with benevolence and indifference.

He was simple but capricious. He was lonely and weak, complicated and annoying. He was sometimes jealous and sometimes sinister. He liked to compete and would occasionally complain. He was selfish and boring but pervertic and adventurous. He enjoyed sophistication and loved imagination. He was kind and benevolent, but also hatred and vengeful. He was domineering and prideful. He was silent and sad. He was full of contradictions and hypocrisy. He was happy yet sad. He was great and yet small.

Liansheng 32, each petal was different.

It was hard to imagine how a person’s character and thoughts could be so complicated.

Ning Que thought, could it be that this person has got 32 different personalities?

...

...

The old monk was done with his speech. He closed his eyes calmly like a lotus going back to sleep at night. He began to unleash the secret power of the Devil’s Doctrine and attempted to digest the Tao Addict’s flesh and convert it into the primordial Qi in his body.

Ning Que’s voice echoed in the silence of the room. However, his tone was uneasy and boring when no one replied. It even seemed desperate.

"There is no devil in this world. It only came into existence because there are too many people like you out there."

"You are the devil no matter which role you play."

"Liansheng 32, every petal of yours is dirty."

"When one links Tao and the Devil, they become God. But they might also end up being a lunatic."

The old monk sitting on the mountain of bones did not have any reaction no matter what Ning Que said. He spent much effort trying to think of these seemingly philosophical statements, which were wasted in the dry air. It did not annoy his opponent nor did it do anything to harm his opponent’s psyche either.

Ning Que placed his head on Mo Shanshan’s shoulder weakly. He stared at the bluestone ceiling. He knew that once the old monk devours and digests the second mouthful of flesh filled with the aura of Haotian Taoism, his state would return to one that he could not touch. Then, there would be no way to change their fates. His eyes dimmed.

The light in the room of the Devil’s Palace became dimmer and dimmer. Night had come to the world outside the mountain. The temperature dropped.

He lifted his head and looked at the sword marks on the stone ceiling. Those were marks left behind by Youngest Uncle. They formed a Confinement that had kept Liansheng 32 trapped for decades. He sighed lightly in his heart.

He had only glanced at them in passing. He had not controlled his psyche deliberately. It must be that he was used to using the Eight Strokes Calligraphy of Yong in the old library. The crowded sword marks in his field of vision suddenly separated and became clear.

Ning Que’s gaze stayed on those sword marks for a long time. His mental state wandered together with the sword marks and a feeling emerged from within him. This feeling was obscure and hard to catch and examine. However, his body warmed up because of this.