Sect Recruitment: I Can See Attribute Entries

Chapter 531: Chapter 532: Don’t Make Me Use Buddhist Arts to Invite You In

Donggua’s face was ashen. Falling into the hands of the Tianyan Sect or the Taidao Sect would probably be no better.

But no matter how unwilling she was, her body could only follow closely behind Wukong.

They didn’t race through the sky but flew at low altitude — not particularly fast. Perhaps Wukong also wanted to keep a low profile.

Donggua was pondering how to broach the subject when she felt something light and white drifting down. She looked up and saw snowflakes falling gently.

Beyond the scattered flakes, the landscape stretched out in an endless blanket of white.

Looking into the distance, she realized the trees had withered across a vast stretch.

It dawned on her — was it already winter?

Time had passed so quickly. It felt as though there’d been no time to do anything at all, and yet another year was gone.

Wukong noticed Donggua’s distraction and glanced sideways at her.

Startled by his gaze, Donggua snapped back to reality. Perhaps it was the freezing snow, but her heart had gone cold as well. She dropped all pretense of tact and opportunity, and spoke in a flat voice.

”We’re already in Central Continent. If you’re going to send me to my death, the least you could do is tell me what’s really going on.”

”You always think the worst of me.”

Wukong’s face was perfectly serene.

”If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have stopped that person back then. You would have died quite naturally.”

”At the very least, a hundred years of studying the Buddhist dharma wasn’t for nothing. I have no particular need to send you to your death.”

Donggua sneered. ”You throw on a kasaya, mutter a few Amitabhas, and suddenly you think you’re a Buddha?”

Wukong turned to look at Donggua with genuine earnestness. A faint golden glow began to emanate from his body.

Donggua felt a chill run down her spine. Was this monk about to attack her right now?

But Wukong simply spoke.

”Amitabha.”

With that, Wukong accelerated, leaving Donggua standing there with a stunned expression.

The hostility on Donggua’s face grew steadily more intense. She glared with pure resentment at Wukong’s receding figure.

This monk was clearly toying with her.

Heh...

This dead monk had no idea — if you don’t leave others a way to live, don’t expect them to leave you one either.

She wasn’t that generous. If she was going to die anyway, to hell with the Demon Race’s grand cause — she’d drag this wretched monk down with her!

Donggua made a silent vow. If it came to it, she would take this damnable monk to the grave with her.

For the rest of the journey, Donggua said nothing. She simply followed behind Wukong in silence, letting him go wherever he pleased.

Wukong’s route was strange — he would periodically circle back, pause at certain spots for a while, and then set off again.

It was almost as if he were deliberately stalling.

Donggua scoffed inwardly. Ordinarily, she would have tried talking again, but now she didn’t say a word.

After several days of travel — despite the detours — their general direction became clear.

Donggua gradually realized where Wukong was heading: the Tianyan Sect.

——————

Huaping Cloud Sea.

This was the starting point of the Tianyan Sect’s direct sphere of influence.

The waters were shallow, reaching only about waist height, and stretched on in an unbroken expanse. Occasionally the water broke into marsh-like divisions, but overall it remained connected.

Withered lotus leaves lay draped across the water’s surface. Their grayish-yellow hue was barely visible beneath a dusting of white snow — from a distance, they looked like white lotus pads quietly awaiting the bloom of white lotuses.

The river hadn’t frozen yet and still flowed. Snowflakes landed on the surface and swiftly melted into the current.

What had once been a landscape of decay was now completely hidden beneath the snow.

Wukong paid no attention to Donggua’s perpetually ashen expression, nor to her silence — the absence of her usual pleas and arguments.

He surged forward, heading toward a place etched in his memory. Moments later, a dilapidated little Buddhist temple came into view.

The temple was bizarre.

It sat on the only patch of flat ground amid a vast, watery marsh. Aside from the temple, there were no other structures — just a small river nearby, with a few broken boats moored along its banks.