My Nascent Soul Ran Away Again - Chapter 115
Chapter 115: Let’s See How Well You ‘ve Grown
Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation
The clash of jade chopsticks resounded like thunder, transforming into ferocious dragons lunging for the vegetarian goose on the plate.
The faces of everyone at the table changed dramatically, recognizing that
Huang Long Zhenjun was now using his powers, intending to teach Feng Yangzi a lesson.
Nervous, Feng Yangzi instinctively bit the jade pendant in his mouth. The pendant glowed, and a surge of power seeped out.
“Boom!”
A thunderous explosion sounded from the plate, with lightning striking down like a heavenly executioner’s blade, embodying immense celestial authority. It cleaved through the air, chopping the menacing dragon heads apart. Huang Long Zhenjun’s chopstick tips broke off and crumbled to pieces.
A muffled groan escaped as Huang Long Zhenjun turned pale, staggered back three steps before managing to regain his balance.
A stunned silence fell over the scene.
“Clatter,” Liao Shan’s chopsticks fell to the floor.
The crowd was in disbelief, questioning what they had just witnessed.
A mere Void-Refining cultivator, Feng Yangzi, had used only a pair of chopsticks to repel a powerful Mahayana cultivator like Huang Long Zhenjun? Huang Long Zhenjun’s arm trembled, his face flushed as he clutched it.
“Fellow Daoist… Was there really a need for such mockery?”
The old True Lord felt aggrieved.
Was it just for a bite of food? Was there a need to humiliate an elder like him?
Feng Yangzi attempted an apologetic expression.
However, having used his Ancestral Master’s powerful artifact, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of triumph.
No, I shouldn’t behave like this…
Feng Yangzi took a deep breath. After all, Huang Long Zhenjun was a respected senior, and he had taken advantage of his Ancestral Master’s magical item, virtually bullying the elder.
To laugh now would probably infuriate the old man to the point of fainting. So, he tried to suppress his smile, bowing, “Thank you, senior, for yielding… But I cannot allow these vegetarian dishes to be shared, as for the reason… I shall apologize to everyone later.”
He swept through the table like a storm, gobbling down every vegetarian dish in sight.
He didn’t even spare the porridge in front of each guest, consuming it all in quick succession.
The powerful cultivators watched his torrential actions in silence and deep thought.
Huang Long Zhenjun, a mid-stage Mahayana cultivator, had been repelled just by Feng Yangzi’s chopsticks.
Clearly, Feng Yangzi’s cultivation level was far beyond what it seemed on the surface.
Was he in the late Mahayana stage? At the peak? Or had he already reached the Transcendent Stage?
Could this be the true strength of a Dao Evolution Sect cultivator?
A chill ran down the spines of the powerful guests.
Their gaze towards Feng Yangzi shifted dramatically, filled with a newfound respect and curiosity.
In stark contrast to the peaceful and serene VIP dining area, the atmosphere in the Pure Land below was much more lively. Many ordinary people praised the True Buddha, while ordinary cultivators chatted and exchanged cups in friendly banter.
“Dad, what’s this black stuff in the porridge?” a young girl with braided hair asked, eyeing her bowl curiously.
The middle-aged man beside her pondered for a moment, “It must be a preserved egg.’
“But aren’t monks not supposed to eat eggs?” a woman beside them asked.
The man quoted a few lines from the Buddhist scriptures: “Indeed, the scriptures say that all egg-born creatures should not be eaten, as they all have life…
“But Tian Chong Temple’s True Buddha originated from the kitchen and might have a different understanding. Besides, the eggs we eat are ‘infertile’ and can’t hatch into chicks, so it’s not considered taking life.”
The little girl, listening to her parents’ discussion, seemed to understand the term “preserved egg.” So she lowered her head and slurped down her bowl of porridge. It tasted salty, indeed like preserved egg porridge.
Above the clouds.
“It should be about time,” the disciple conducting the meeting observed the scene below, hands clasped in prayer.
The vegetarian feast had entered the stomachs of these people, and the real ceremony of Buddha’s Birthday was about to begin.
“Dang, dang, dang, dang…”
The bell suddenly rang again, causing confusion among both the ordinary people in the Pure Land and the cultivators above the clouds.
Why the bell again?
Traditionally, at the Buddha’s Birthday ceremony, a three-day banquet was held, and the bell would ring only at the conclusion.
Was the feast ending already, even though the first meal wasn’t finished yet?
Both the ordinary people and the cultivators turned towards the source of the bell sound.
A middle-aged monk stepped forward, his hands clasped and face showing a bitter yet compassionate expression. He was a disciple of Tian Chong Temple’s Abbot Kong Wen.
As he took a step forward, a layer of light shone, and his clothes disintegrated into ash along with his skin.
The monk’s face melted away as if decomposing, his features collapsing inward as if unsupported by bone. One of his eyeballs fell from its socket, hitting the ground but not bouncing or rolling. Instead, it squashed like a ball of wet clay.
Then came his nose, mouth, ears…
His features fell off like a clay Bodhisattva left in water, disintegrating on their own.
The soft, sagging skin peeled away, revealing a dark, black substance underneath, replacing the muscle and bone.
In mere moments, the monk’s body dissolved into a pool of black sludge, wriggling and flowing towards the direction of Tian Chong Temple’s rear mountain.
The sight of a living person melting into black mud was too much for some, who bent over and vomited in horror..
