164: Destroy the Arhat formation, and the murderous intent shakes all directions!

Just then, Lu Jiuyuan gently raised his hand.

It was just a tiny movement, yet it seemed to possess an invisible magic, instantly drawing everyone's gaze, even You Longsheng's frenzied laughter ceased abruptly.

Lu Jiuyuan slowly rose from the bamboo chair.

His eyes were calm, sweeping past the agitated monks and landing directly on Abbot Xinhu's face. His voice remained indifferent, yet carried an undeniable power:

"Abbot Great Master, debating right and wrong is futile.

Although You Longsheng's words are extreme, they are not entirely without reason.

The matter of Plum Blossom Bandit Lin Xianer is shrouded in mist, and it is no longer solely a Shaolin affair; it concerns the public justice of the Martial Forest."

He paused, slowly surveying the entire scene. Everyone whose gaze he touched subconsciously held their breath.

"I, Lu, have come here to ask but one question."

His voice clearly reached every corner:

"Shaolin, will you hand him over, or not?"

All the clamor subsided once more, and everyone stared intently at Abbot Xinhu.

At this point, whether they handed him over or not, Shaolin Temple's millennium of reputation was already in tatters!

In fact, there was only one choice left: whoever dared to step forward would be subdued, using power to suppress others!

Abbot Xinhu's face was ashen, his palms pressed together, his voice like an ancient bell:

"amitabha! If Donor Lu insists on this, then do not blame Shaolin for using thunderous means to defend the Dao and eliminate devils. Form the Formation!"

With a single command, over a hundred martial monks behind him responded in unison, their voices shaking the clouds:

"Yes!"

The monks' figures intertwined, their steps like lightning, and in an instant, they formed a formidable Great Formation.

Shadows of sticks， Qi and machine connected， It is the world-famous Shaolin 108 Luohan Grand Formation！

Once this Formation was complete, a vast, majestic, and indestructible Aura immediately spread, like an iron wall, firmly protecting the entire mountain gate.

You Longsheng licked his lips, his eyes gleaming with even greater excitement.

A Fei tightened his grip on his sword, his gaze calm, no longer nervous at all.

Lu Jiuyuan, however, merely sighed softly.

This moment had finally arrived!

He slowly raised his right hand, holding the Guhong Sword, pointing it diagonally at the ground: "Since that is the case, then I apologize for the offense."

Lu Jiuyuan's figure moved.

He stepped into the renowned Luohan Formation in such an unremarkable way.

Like a drop of water merging into a surging river.

The next moment, the river reversed its flow!

"Buzz—!"

One hundred and eight long staves simultaneously churned the air, emitting a dull roar. Layers of staff shadows, overwhelming and all-encompassing, instantly engulfed Lu Jiuyuan's figure.

The Formation rotated, Qi flowed, and each staff strike contained the power to shatter stone tablets. Even more terrifying was how they echoed each other, forming a perfect, flawless whole.

To outsiders, Lu Jiuyuan was like a small boat in a raging storm, about to be crushed in an instant.

Abbot Xinhu pressed his palms together and lowered his gaze, silently reciting Buddhist chants.

The monks' eyes were sharp, their Internal Energy poured forth, intending to instantly kill this Devil Head who blasphemed Buddhism within the Formation.

However, that small boat transformed into the sharpest icebreaker.

An extremely fine, extremely faint, yet sharp enough to pierce everyone's vision, sword light ignited.

It had no grand momentum, and its sound was even obscured by the whistling of the staves.

But its appearance was precisely located, chillingly so—it was the moment of transition in the Great Formation's Qi flow, the fleeting gap between old and new power!

"Puff!"

A faint, almost inaudible sound of a blade entering flesh.

A tiny red dot appeared on the throat of the foremost martial monk. His forward charge abruptly froze, his eyes filled with disbelief, and the long staff in his hand clattered to the ground.

The sword light did not linger, nor did it even glance at the fallen monk.

It moved like a living ghost within the impenetrable shadows of the staves.

Each flash was inevitably accompanied by a faint "puff" sound, and the sudden freezing of a martial monk's movements.

Fast! Unimaginably fast!

It wasn't just the speed of the sword strike, but also the terrifyingly precise grasp of timing, angles, and the operational Veins of the Formation!

Lu Jiuyuan's figure was like a phantom, weaving through the interwoven net of staves. His sword always struck at the last possible moment, piercing through layers of staff shadows, accurately targeting the vital points that those martial monks had to defend!

Throat, heart, brow... Each tremor of the sword tip brought forth a spray of warm blood.

He did not use any flamboyant, large-scale sword techniques, only the simplest, most direct, and most efficient thrusts.

But these basic thrusts, in his hands, transformed into the invitation of the Grim Reaper.

The Luohan Formation was frantically operating, trying to strangle the figure at its center. The wind from the staves howled, kicking up dust three feet from the ground.

But Lu Jiuyuan was like an elusive shadow, always finding the only path to survival amidst the densest attacks, and his sword always pointed to that path, the cost of death that the enemy had to pay.

"Uh..."

"Hmph..."

Muffled grunts, sounds of falling, and clatter of staves began to be heard incessantly.

The originally impenetrable Formation began to show one gap after another.

Those fallen monks were like gears gnawed away by an invisible beast, making this massive killing machine operate more and more sluggishly, more and more chaotically.

The smell of blood began to permeate the air, replacing the original scent of sandalwood.

On the plaza, there was dead silence.

All the onlookers from the Jianghu widened their eyes and opened their mouths, watching this one-sided slaughter in disbelief.

The intense confrontation they had imagined did not happen.

There were no earth-shattering clashes, no brilliant exchanges of moves.

Only death, efficient to the point of suffocation.

Lu Jiuyuan's sword was not breaking the Formation, but disassembling it.

In the most brutal and direct way, he was "dismantling" this centuries-old renowned Luohan Great Formation piece by piece—using human corpses and blood as parts.

A Fei's grip on his sword loosened slightly, and for the first time, a glimmer of almost worshipful light appeared in his cold eyes.

He saw every sword strike, yet it was as if he saw nothing at all; it was a Realm he still could not comprehend.

You Longsheng's frenzied smile vanished, replaced by a deep reverence and obsession. He stared intently at the blue-clad figure, his breathing rapid.

Abbot Xinhu and the faces of the Great Masters had turned from ashen to pale, then to utterly bloodless.

They watched as their elite Disciples fell like straw, piece by piece, as their centuries of renown were trampled underfoot, as that blue robe remained spotless, strolling through the bloody storm.

An unprecedented chill clutched their hearts.

This was no longer a martial arts contest; it was an overwhelming crush, a massacre!

Finally.

The sound of the last staff falling echoed.

The last standing martial monk clutched his gushing throat, gurgling as he fell backward, his eyes still filled with immense horror.

The sword light receded.