Reverend Ecstasy

Chapter 82: When the Liberation Abbot Summons

Meanwhile, within the Soaring Crane mountain’s treasury, Xinzi’s legions had finished assembling and packaging all the loot that the fallen sect had to offer. Millions of spirit stones piled up in storage bags, sitting alongside plentiful treasures, the collected heads, thousands of kilograms worth of herbs, pills, recipes, and even the cultivation methods pocketed from the first floor of the Dao Transmitting pavilion. The dead disciples and elders’ storage rings had been looted clean as well—adding to the stack of riches that’d soon fuel Xinzi’s factional needs.

Of all the methods that cultivators could employ to nurture their factions, sect looting was undoubtedly the fastest. With one successful operation, the invaders could secure centuries to thousands of years worth of accumulation—not only ensuring mind-boggling returns on investment but also speeding up their factions’ development by decades or centuries.

Initially, the legionaries worked like a structured insect colony. But while Xinzi pounded some sense into the Li clan’s survivors, his control over the Funerary Rite dwindled steadily. The reason was simple: Spiritual Sense.

As mentioned beforehand, Xinzi didn’t have the Soul Force reserves needed to shoulder such a monumental array. He also lacked the materials that could have helped alleviate the load. Thus, it was through the disciples’ own Spiritual Senses and Soul Force that our monk maintained his grand legion. This setup came with an obvious problem. The Qi Refinement and Foundation Building disciples’ reserves wouldn’t last forever. And as soon as the last drop of Soul Force left a disciple, a crushing headache would force them out of the formation-induced trance, split them from the lineup, then send their wobbly ass to a short coma.

In general, the Qi Refinement disciples had less Soul Force, so they would be the first to go and the last to wake up. To prevent a 20,000-man strong field of comatose folks, Xinzi initially intended to deactivate the formation right after collecting all that he came for. Alas, the dreadful skills deployed by the Li clan’s “trump cards” made our monk forget about this detail. Thus, one after the other, White Immortal disciples lost the shelter of their war armors, clutched their heads as harsh jolts of pain ran through their cerebrum, then passed out on the gore-laden ground.

In one breath, dozens of disciples had fallen onto the ground, forcefully getting disconnected from Xinzi, who was forced to take notice of the situation.

“Oops,” said our monk in-between two tunnel stuffing thrusts. ‘Tusha…mhm…set up a Soul Sheltering Field to protect the disciples’ psy…oooh…psyche, let them pass out so I don’t have to deal with a boatload of ques…nice move…questions, but wake up my three initiates. They will find me on their own. Once…mhm, they…dang…do, add a concealment barrier to hide our presence and loot.’

Using Chun Xu as the vector, Xinzi sent Tusha a mental message. More than she ever expected herself to, the infernal nun enjoyed her stay in the shadows of Chun Xu’s soul. The information, inner conflicts, and thought structure she had access to ensure that—at all time—she stayed entertained. After thousands of years spent hanging with beasts or mindless Blood Spirits, this was a nice change of pace. Thus, whenever Xinzi interrupted Tusha’s exploration of Chun Xu’s mind, the nun felt slightly annoyed. Still, making herself useful and gathering “Trust Points” with the boss was always the priority, so Tusha shifted her attention to Xinzi’s mental message.

The odd interruptions and occasional moans distracted the nun from the order—making her wonder what activity her abbot was indulging in that he had such a hard time stringing five words together.

“As you wish, Abbot.” Duty trumped curiosity, and Tusha executed Xinzi’s orders. Two red flashes of light burst out of Chun Xu’s chest. The first turned the piles of storage bags invisible while the other spread across the Soaring Crane mountain, covering all White Immortal sect disciples in a Soul Sheltering Field. Those that had suffered mental damages already would find a sensation akin to a soothing breeze sweep through them and steady their souls. The rest passed out gently, cushioned by an anesthetic sensation. Dong Ling and Xia Hu too passed out, the former coming right before some of the higher ranked inner disciples, while the latter still wobbled after the last inner disciple had fallen. It wasn’t until Yan Le, Xinzi’s strongest initiate, fell, that Xia Hu went down.

Chun Xu passed out as well. But this didn’t stop Tusha from carrying out the tasks that she’d been entrusted with. The nun gave them all a minute to enjoy their rest, before sending another flash of red light that woke Yan Le, A’Zhi and A’Zhu—Xinzi’s three initiates—up.

The short-lived comatose state kept their vision in a blur. For a moment, they rubbed their eyes, fighting off the sluggishness in their bodies to make sense of the situation. Then the wasteland of pure carnage the Soaring Crane mountain had turned into took form before them—scaring them all out of their wits.

“The Golden Lotus be praised. What… happened here?”

“I just remember that our abbot triggered a grand array, and then, the rest is a blur.”

“A few random images flash through my mind. But this…damn, the White Immortal sect really doesn’t do things half-assedly.” Never in their lives had the three initiates witnessed such slaughter. Even Yan Le, who once was a rogue cultivator, had never been part of a sect extermination, and therefore failed to process all the death that greeted them three.

At first, the three initiates believed Xinzi had assisted some White Immortal sect elders in carrying out this destruction. But a Spiritual Sense scan soon confirmed that only the disciples Xinzi had gathered in the Funerary Rite lay here.

“This…was all us?” A’Zhi and A’Zhu said in tandem, struggling to accept that so much blood lay on their hands.

“Never mind that, where is our abbot?” Following the initial shock, Yan Le regained her composure. The speed at which their fellow sister adapted to this chaotic scene made the twins blink in confusion. But then, the term “abbot” echoed in their mind, and they too shrugged the destruction off to focus on what mattered the most: Xinzi.

Unlike Yan Le, who became a donor and joined the Liberation Temple out of pure self-interest, A’Zhi and A’Zhu’s link to our monk was more complex. Several years ago, they were almost coerced by the eldest Dongli prince into becoming his concubines. Knowing the man, this would ensure that after getting milked of their worth, they’d get discarded in a dull palace and spend the remainder of their lives drinking their own agony.

Orphaned by mortal struggles, A’Zhi and A’Zhu didn’t even have a proper family name. The likes of Dong Ling might be able to slap Dongli princes left and right, then still ask them to pay for the privilege to get their ass kicked, but nameless inner disciples with limited potential and no background whatsoever faced different realities. Had Xinzi not been there to oppress the eldest prince with his status and pull them under his wing, their current situation would be hard to fathom.

Did he do it out of the kindness of his heart, or merely to plant the seed of loyalty? They didn’t know and didn’t care—for their abbot didn’t merely grant them shelter, but also helped them exceed the limits that the cultivation world didn’t see them crossing. Gave them hope for the future, and a purpose to serve, all without asking much of them in return, really. By now their lives had almost become too good to be true, and the two knew that in due time, they’d have to pay a price for this good fortune—especially as Xinzi seemed to develop into darker roads.

But again, they didn’t care, for over the years they’d learned to put their faith not in the Heavens or the Lotus, but in the Liberation Abbot: Xinzi.

Alongside Yan Le, the twins spread their Spiritual Sense out, seeking the location of their Abbot. His own Spiritual Sense met theirs, guiding them towards the underground of the Dao Transmitting pavilion.

“Let’s go.” Without delay, the three rushed towards Xinzi, moving past doors, shelves and corridors in the blink of an eye. Piloting Chun Xu’s body, Tusha followed close-by, but took care to not let the three sense her presence.

But as they stepped into the underground, the greeting of moans, clapping sounds and eldritch energies slowed their pace, forcing them to glance at one another as they pictured what went on behind the last door. The answer came shortly, and their jaws fell instantly.