Chapter 112: The Xiang Family Crisis

“Clang!”

Within the Sutra Pavilion of the Little Thunder Sound Temple, Lin Fan sat cross-legged on the ground. Radiant beams of divine light burst forth from his body, dazzlingly brilliant—manifestations of his vast and potent life force, truly formidable.

The Bodhi seed was small and unassuming, appearing quite ancient and simple. Yet at this moment, it unleashed a boundless wave of energy, an infinite force like a vast ocean, ripe for the taking.

Lin Fan’s face remained calm. From his head surged a dragon-shaped aura of life force, winding upward. At this moment, the dragon-shaped energy resembled a true divine dragon, exuding limitless majesty. Each strand alone could shatter a master at the seventh level of the Vein Condensation realm.

This was the manifestation of Lin Fan’s astonishing talent, an indescribable aura that intimidated the soul. The dragon-shaped aura perfectly symbolized his once-in-four-thousand-years gift. Any outsider witnessing this would surely be shaken to their core, for such talent was exceedingly rare even in ancient times. A genius of this caliber, if unfallen, was destined to become a supreme sovereign.

One dragon-shaped aura after another surged forth, turbulent and mighty like an endless sea.

“I still cannot break through the four-thousand-year limit. If only my talent could ascend one more level, that would truly be a gulf between mortal and divine. At five thousand years, crossing the barrier into the Celestial realm would be within reach.”

Lin Fan opened his eyes; twin beams of light pierced the heavens above.

He had not chosen to break through immediately but hoped to refine his innate gift further. Yet he was still just short, stuck at the threshold. Still, he had gained much.

A genius born once every four thousand years was vastly different from one born at four thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine years. Lin Fan had now reached the pinnacle of the four-thousand-year tier, his strength significantly improved from before.

“Well then, it must be let go. The opportunity is insufficient. The Bodhi seed is an ancient relic; for it to have survived until now means it still contains energy. It must not be wasted.”

Lin Fan closed his eyes once more, delving into a deeper state of cultivation. This time, his progress was swifter than before, driven solely by the desire to ascend realms.

While Lin Fan cultivated, chaos erupted further at the Little Thunder Sound Temple. An ancestral artifact had surfaced, and fate had placed it into the hands of Lin Fan’s acquaintance, the Flower Fallen Gentleman.

“Brother, let’s give up. It’s not worth the sacrifices of our clan over a damaged ancestral artifact.”

The Flower Fallen Gentleman looked disheveled, his clothes stained with blood. Not only he but the entire Xiang family contingent was similarly battered. The situation had escalated violently because the artifact in question was the Demon-Subduing Pestle—a sacred relic passed down from an ancient Buddha. This Buddha held a unique and lofty position within the entire Buddhist sect, as he was the master of Shakyamuni himself.

“Don’t speak nonsense. Can’t you see? These people don’t just want the Demon-Subduing Pestle—they want our lives. The Xiang family’s momentum is too strong, and as outsiders, we naturally face opposition. This time, they simply found an excuse.”

Xiang Zhenting waved off the Flower Fallen Gentleman’s words. His strategic vision surpassed his companion’s; he had already discerned the truth.

“Brother, what do you mean?”

The Flower Fallen Gentleman was clever and quickly grasped the implication: someone was scheming to eliminate the Xiang family, the thorn in their side.

“It’s a tribulation destined by fate. The mastermind is likely the Purple Robe Pavilion—they’ve been the most aggressive. Moreover, they have an ancient ancestor at the Void Breaking realm lurking, watching us like a tiger. Our family has no chance.”

Xiang Zhenting sighed deeply, yet his aura surged with a domineering spirit—an unyielding presence like a lone wolf of the desert. Anyone confronting him would risk losing their teeth.

“Brother, what of our clan’s enforcers? Didn’t we say we have Celestial realm overlords here?”

The Flower Fallen Gentleman questioned, believing that if a Celestial realm overlord acted, they could turn the tide.

“Luo Hua, your experience is lacking. Though talented, you’re far removed from these tangled intrigues. We do have Celestial realm overlords, more than one even, but right now, they are all restrained. They cannot intervene. The only ones who can save us now are ourselves.”

Xiang Zhenting shook his head, pessimistic about the overlords’ intervention. Otherwise, they would have appeared by now. The only explanation was that something grave had occurred—something so dire even the Celestial realm could not ignore.

“You’re right. Deep within the Little Thunder Sound Temple lies an ancient array. The Celestial realm overlords are all there, seeking to break it. They cannot free themselves.”

At that moment, a cold, chilling voice arrived. A figure approached leisurely from afar, a middle-aged man clad in white robes, a radiant glow atop his head. His murderous aura was suffocating.

He was a Celestial realm overlord. The Xiang family members were shocked—never had they expected such a figure to appear.

“I didn’t expect the Yi family’s foundation to be so deep-rooted. Truly worthy as the premier clan of the Ancient Buddha Domain. I once thought after the Nine-Joint Whip incident, you had nothing left.”

Xiang Zhenting strode forward and snorted coldly. He already knew the identity of this man—it was Yi Han, the Fourth Master of the Yi family.

“A sharp-tongued brat. Hand over the Demon-Subduing Pestle, along with your lives.”

Yi Han’s face was expressionless. He came with deadly resolve, his status as a Celestial realm overlord giving him supreme confidence—no need to hide his identity.

“The Yi family has only four Celestial realm overlords. That’s not many. I wonder what would happen if the Fourth Master of the Yi family were to fall here.”

Unexpectedly, Xiang Zhenting was brimming with confidence, showing no fear—rather, an air of superiority.

“Then come and try.”

Yi Han’s expression never changed, as if nothing could stir his interest—revealing an extraordinary temperament.

“Begone!”

Xiang Zhenting roared, his aura soaring, finally stabilizing at the early decline phase of the Celestial realm. Unconsciously, he had broken the Vein Condensation barrier, reaching a new tier.

Before the Xiang family could rejoice, another terrifying aura emerged from afar—a second Celestial realm overlord was approaching.

“Do you think we’re fools? We’ve long since uncovered your true strength. Surprising for a junior to have reached parity with us. Truly, the youth are formidable.”

A brilliant sword light flashed as the Purple Robe Pavilion’s overlord struck. A celestial sword slashed across the sky, carrying unmatched killing intent—a single strike that chilled nineteen provinces.

This was nearly a fatal blow. Though Yi Han and the Purple Robe overlord were both early decline Celestial realm, their united strength was extraordinary—enough to annihilate Xiang Zhenting and his group.