154: Good fortune and misfortune have no doors, they are only brought upon oneself.

However, Lu Jiuyuan moved.

His movements were so fast they surpassed the limits of the formation's changes!

Just as the first row of staff shadows was about to reach him—

“Clang—!”

A very brief, sharp, almost ear-splitting sword cry exploded!

Faster! More ferocious than when he killed Whip God Ximen Rou in the rain!

A light, indifferent to the extreme, yet also sharp to the extreme, suddenly lit up, like the sigh of the God of Death, silently sweeping through the air after the rain.

That was not one light, but eighteen points of cold stars lighting up simultaneously!

No, it wasn't even simultaneous; it was just so fast that it left the illusion of “simultaneous” in everyone's vision!

Ice and Fire Dual Heavens: Heavenly Demon Instant Prison Kill!

Lu Jiuyuan's figure seemed to blur in place, then appeared behind the eighteen men.

He seemed to belong there, as if he had never moved an inch.

A drop of blood slowly dripped from the Guhong Sword, though it was unclear when this happened, and the hand on the hilt was as steady as a rock.

Time seemed to freeze for an instant.

The eighteen fierce, Internal Energy-connected, and skillfully staff-wielding elite Disciples of the Luohan Hall suddenly froze in all their movements!

They maintained their postures of advancing, swinging their staffs, and striking, like eighteen statues instantly frozen.

In the center of each person's brow, an extremely subtle bloodstain appeared.

Tiny, precise, penetrating the skull!

There were no screams, no struggles, not even time for expressions of surprise to surface.

The next moment—

“Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!”...A series of sounds of heavy objects falling to the ground rang out.

Eighteen bodies almost simultaneously fell forward, their ebony staffs rolling powerlessly to the ground, making a messy, dull sound.

The smell of blood instantly became so thick it was suffocating, permeating the open space in front of the ruined temple.

The Shaolin Temple's world-renowned Luohan Formation was completely annihilated in a single encounter, without even allowing Lu Jiuyuan to draw his sword for more than a breath!

Silence!

A deathly silence!

Only You Longsheng's heavy breathing remained, and the undisguised shock in A Fei's suddenly constricted pupils.

He had become stronger!

Great Master Xinmei's anger, compassion, determination...all expressions completely froze and shattered at this moment, finally turning into a blank of disbelief and horror.

His withered body trembled violently, like falling leaves in the autumn wind.

He turned around, looked at the eighteen Disciples who had died instantly on the ground, then looked at Lu Jiuyuan, who was blowing blood from his sword, his lips trembling, unable to utter a single word.

A faint and sorrowful melody began to play; Yun Chang and the four other women, at some unknown point, had picked up their pipa, flute, and xiao and started playing the music.

Great Master Xinmei's body trembled violently; that indifferent sword light was no longer a human skill, but close to the Dao, close to the demonic.

The sickeningly thick smell of blood, mixed with the freshness of the earth after the rain, and the mournful music from Yun Chang and the four other women, added a touch of desolation and grimness.

Great Master Xinmei's dry lips moved, finally squeezing out half a Buddhist chant, but nothing followed.

Lu Jiuyuan slowly turned around,

“Great Master, now,”

Lu Jiuyuan's voice was not loud, but it clearly penetrated the faint music, “do you still want to invite us to Shaolin?”

Great Master Xinmei staggered a step, his withered hand pointing at the bodies on the ground, his voice hoarse and trembling:

“You...you actually...actually resorted to such a vicious hand! They...they were just following orders...”

“Following orders means you don't have to distinguish right from wrong?”

Lu Jiuyuan interrupted him, his tone still calm, but with a sharp interrogation,

“Is following orders to besiege and kill not an act of killing?

Are the lives of Shaolin Disciples lives, but the lives of the Eight Friends of Hangu and Whip God Ximen Rou not lives?”

You Longsheng flicked his large red sleeve, a wild sneer on his face: “Old monk, do you dare to say that the Shaolin Temple is spotless?

Perhaps that slut is now hidden beneath your Buddhist hall, within the abbot's meditation room, cavorting with that old monk.”

Great Master Xinmei's body shook, his face turning ashen.

He opened his mouth, wanting to sternly refute, wanting to uphold the dignity of the thousand-year-old temple, but looking at the young man in green before him, who was like a god and a demon,

Looking at the bodies of the Shaolin elites scattered on the ground, all words were stuck in his throat.

Evidence? He couldn't produce any evidence to refute.

And the opponent's sword was the greatest “evidence.”

The most ridiculous thing in the world is to engage in a war of words with someone when you lack the strength.

If you lose, you get slapped in the face; if you win, you still get slapped in the face.

“amitabha...”

The majesty of the thousand-year-old Shaolin, the purity of Buddhism, seemed so pale and powerless in the face of this absolute power.

“Pfft—”

Great Master Xinmei suddenly spat out a mouthful of fresh blood, his face instantly turning ashen like dirt, all the light in his eyes extinguished, leaving only a deathly emptiness.

He slowly raised his head, looking at Lu Jiuyuan, his voice hoarse as if sandpaper was rubbing: “Lu Tan Yue… What a swift sword… What a cruel heart…”

“Shaolin… admits defeat.”

He spoke these few words with difficulty, each word seemingly draining his remaining strength.

“But... this matter will definitely not end here. Shaolin's thousand-year Foundation cannot be lightly insulted by one person and one sword.

The blood shed today will surely...”

“Surely what?”

Lu Jiuyuan interrupted him, slowly stepping forward.

“Does the Great Master think I haven't killed enough? Or does he think that the monks of Shaolin Temple are harder to kill than Whip God Ximen Rou, or these eighteen staff monks?”

Great Master Xinmei's breath caught, and he could no longer speak the rest of his words.

He looked at Lu Jiuyuan's calm, unruffled eyes and suddenly understood that any threat was meaningless to this person.

This was a person who truly had no taboos and only followed his own heart.

“Go back.”

Lu Jiuyuan no longer looked at him, his gaze turning towards the Shaolin Temple, his voice indifferent but with an undeniable command,

“Tell Xinhu, tell everyone in Shaolin who can still take charge.

In half a month, I will personally ascend Shaolin.

Either, hand over Lin Xianer!

Or...”

He paused slightly, and the air seemed to freeze with him.

“I will demolish your temple, shatter your gates, and erase this thousand-year-old temple from existence.”

Great Master Xinmei trembled violently, staring at Lu Jiuyuan in disbelief, as if he had heard the most insane and blasphemous words in the world.

“What if Lin Xianer is not in Shaolin Temple? What if the benefactor has misunderstood Shaolin Temple?”

“The world says that Shaolin's secular Disciples are spread all over the world. In half a month, I only want to see Lin Xianer.

If she's not here now, then I hope she will be in half a month. Great Master Xinmei, do you understand?” Lu Jiuyuan asked:

“So that's how it is! So that's how it is.”

“This old monk... understands.”

Great Master Xinmei uttered these few words with difficulty, as if all his spirit and energy had been instantly drained.

“Calamity and fortune have no gate; they are only invited by oneself!”