Rebirth as a Demonic Cultivator: Starting with a Zombie Planet

Chapter 48: Jinlong Temple, Battle Monk Huikong!

Chu Xuan channeled his spiritual power into the Array-Breaking Mirror. The glass shimmered, revealing a glowing web of ethereal threads invisible to the naked eye.

These spectral lines acted as a map, pointing directly to the hidden formation flags. Even without locating the central array core, systematically destroying these nodes would cripple the barrier enveloping Cloud Mist Manor. Given his expertise, finding the core was only a matter of time—but time was a luxury he didn’t need to spend.

Moments later, he tracked down the first flag. It was seamlessly embedded within a solid concrete pillar, completely undetectable from the outside.

He didn’t even need to give an order. Little Dragon materialized from the Corpse Nurturing Tower with a guttural growl. The zombie stepped forward and slammed a pale, heavy palm against the stone. *Crack.* Fissures spider-webbed across the surface. A second strike pulverized the pillar entirely, exposing the hidden flag.

Chu Xuan snatched the flag, flooded it with his own spiritual power, and crushed it to dust.

Above them, the shimmering dome of the formation visibly dimmed.

Muffled explosions and the clash of steel echoed from inside the manor. Li Xuanming and the others had already engaged the four Shenggang Sect cultivators standing guard.

Chu Xuan had zero intention of joining the bloodbath. He remained on the perimeter, a ghost in the shadows, methodically uprooting the remaining flags. Thanks to his rock-solid foundation in arrays and the mirror’s guidance, it took him barely half an hour to rip out and destroy all one hundred and twenty nodes.

The barrier over Cloud Mist Manor shattered like fragile glass.

Inside, the oppressive weight bearing down on Li Xuanming’s trio vanished. “Good! Faster than I expected!” Li Xuanming barked a cruel laugh, his hands blurring into a series of rapid seals.

Sinister, demonic qi erupted from his fingertips, tearing through the air like a torrential downpour of black needles. The sheer density of the attack suffocated his opponent.

*”Ah!”*

A Shenggang Sect cultivator shrieked as a bolt of dark energy punched clean through his shoulder. Blood sprayed across the courtyard. Li Xuanming didn’t pause. He closed the distance like a predator, unleashing a relentless barrage. The final, brutal thrust pierced the cultivator’s heart, dropping him dead on the spot!

Nearby, Liu Zhenxiong and Wu Teng were also grinding their opponents down.

The slaughter was going perfectly according to plan.

“Master Huikong! The formation is broken! If you don’t act now, we’ll all die!” a surviving Shenggang Sect cultivator roared toward the manor’s inner chambers. Veins bulged on his forehead, his face twisted in desperate fury at his so-called ally’s inaction.

Li Xuanming and his martial brothers froze, their eyes narrowing.

*Huikong?*

A monk from Jinlong Temple was here?

A haughty, deeply dissatisfied voice echoed from a closed side room. “Fools! This humble monk was merely waiting for the most opportune moment to purge these demons, and you have ruined my timing!”

The wall exploded. A heavy Buddhist precept knife tore through the brickwork, shooting straight toward Wu Teng.

It radiated a blinding, self-righteous golden light, carrying a razor-sharp aura that made the hair on the back of Wu Teng’s neck stand up. Cursing violently, Wu Teng threw himself sideways.

The glowing blade sheared past his scalp, taking a massive clump of dark hair with it. Wu Teng slapped a hand to his head—the damn monk had given him a bald spot!

“Hmph. You scurry well for a rat,” a cold, arrogant voice sneered.

*Boom!*

A towering, muscular figure vaulted through the ruined wall, landing heavily in the courtyard. The man stood over eight feet tall, built like a brick outhouse with broad shoulders and a thick trunk. He wore the ochre-yellow martial robes of a warrior monk, tightly bound at the wrists and ankles.

The golden precept knife boomeranged through the air, slapping firmly into his massive palm.

“Jinlong Temple. Battle Monk Huikong,” Liu Zhenxiong muttered, his face draining of color.

Perched on a nearby rooftop, Chu Xuan watched the courtyard with cold, calculating eyes.

Jinlong Temple monks fell into two distinct categories: Battle Monks and Scripture Monks.

Battle Monks were bred for slaughter from childhood. They were the temple’s bloody sword, specializing in violently purging evil and exorcising ghosts. They roamed the world, hunting demons under the guise of righteousness. The Wuji Sect had clashed with these zealots countless times.

Scripture Monks, on the other hand, spent their youths locked away, chanting sutras and delving into Buddhist law. Early on, they were weak, practically defenseless compared to their militant brethren. But once their comprehension reached a certain threshold, their power would undergo a terrifying metamorphosis.

*Words becoming law.* That was the domain of a high-level Scripture Monk.

Chu Xuan knew the name Huikong. The man was a recognized genius, an equal to Li Xuanming. His talent was monstrous, having broken through to the Foundation Establishment realm at the mere age of thirty. The Golden Core masters of Jinlong Temple treated him as their golden child.

Li Xuanming had crossed blows with Huikong several times in the past—and lost more often than he won.

“Benefactor Li Xuanming. Hahahaha, the heavens have brought us together once more.” Huikong stared at the demonic cultivator, a twisted, predatory grin splitting his face. He looked at Li Xuanming not with pious pity, but like a butcher admiring a prime cut of meat.

Li Xuanming’s expression darkened.

His intelligence on Cloud Mist Manor had been absolute: only four guards. The Shenggang Sect was secretly imprisoning Wan Wuying here, draining his blood to breed fierce ghosts, which they then used to sharpen their own sword qi. It was a vile, demonic practice—the kind of hypocritical filth the “righteous” sects kept buried deep in the dark.

So why was a Jinlong Temple monk here? Was the supposedly holy temple complicit in this blood-harvesting?

“Huikong!” Li Xuanming spat, his voice dripping with venom. “Your Jinlong Temple constantly preaches about the orthodox Buddhist path! You claim compassion for all living beings! Yet here you are, colluding with the Shenggang Sect to imprison a cultivator and drain his blood to feed ghosts! Is this your holy righteousness?!”

Huikong let out a booming, sanctimonious laugh. “Slander and nonsense. This humble monk is merely here to cleanse the world of fierce ghosts. I know absolutely nothing of imprisoned cultivators or blood sacrifices.” His eyes gleamed with murderous intent. “But I do see three demonic whelps of the Wuji Sect who have foolishly delivered themselves into my hands for purification!”

Without another word, Huikong stomped his massive foot into the courtyard.

The earth violently convulsed. Solid blue paving stones shattered into jagged shrapnel. For a moment, Li Xuanming, Liu Zhenxiong, Wu Teng, and even the surviving Shenggang Sect cultivators stumbled, unable to keep their footing.

*Earthquake Technique!*

From his vantage point, Chu Xuan immediately recognized the Jinlong Temple’s signature spell. It was a brutal, indiscriminate area-of-effect attack that hindered friend and foe alike. But the Battle Monks, with their monstrous physical conditioning, could sprint across the rippling earth as if it were perfectly flat.

“Allow this monk to send you on your way!” Huikong roared.

The golden precept knife shot from his hand, slashing viciously toward Liu Zhenxiong. In the same breath, the monk shrugged off his upper kasaya. The holy garment expanded in the air like a massive, bloodthirsty spider, shooting straight for Wu Teng. Simultaneously, Huikong’s hands blurred into a seal. The heavy string of wooden prayer beads around his neck levitated, then launched through the air to crash down upon Li Xuanming!

In the blink of an eye, the hypocritical monk had activated three separate Magical Artifacts, launching a coordinated, three-pronged assault!

Judging by the blinding spiritual pressure radiating from them, both the precept knife and the prayer beads were extraordinary High Grade Magical Artifacts. The kasaya was slightly weaker, but still a formidable Middle Grade Magical Artifact.

“Damn it!” Li Xuanming cursed, throwing himself backward. His cultivation base was deep enough to keep up; twisting his body into an unnatural arc, he narrowly avoided the crushing weight of the prayer beads.

Liu Zhenxiong wasn’t as fast. The golden precept knife clipped his arm, shearing off a massive chunk of flesh and muscle. Blood sprayed the ruined courtyard. Biting down on a groan of agony, he staggered back.

Wu Teng fared the worst. His previous injuries had barely scabbed over. The violent, forced dodge tore the wounds on his chest wide open. Before he could recover, the sprawling kasaya descended, wrapping around him like a giant python. Within seconds, the holy fabric constricted, crushing his ribs. His face turned a suffocating, bruised purple as the air was squeezed from his lungs.

Huikong threw his head back and laughed. “So weak! Have the demonic cultivators of the Wuji Sect truly become this pathetic?”

Liu Zhenxiong clenched his fists, his knuckles white. This bald donkey was incredibly cunning. Huikong had deliberately hidden in the shadows, letting the Shenggang Sect cultivators act as meat shields to drain the Wuji Sect trio’s spiritual power while he studied their techniques. Now that he had stepped in, he held every advantage.

“Retreat!” Li Xuanming roared through gritted teeth. He whipped out a massive, sinister black banner, preparing to flee.

Huikong’s sudden appearance had completely shattered their operation. If they dragged this out, reinforcements from both the Shenggang Sect and Jinlong Temple would swarm them. If that happened, none of them would leave alive.

He slammed the banner into the cracked earth. Instantly, tens of thousands of shrieking ghosts erupted from the dark fabric, a tidal wave of spectral agony that blotted out the sky as it swarmed toward Huikong.

It was a High Grade Magical Artifact—one of Li Xuanming’s absolute trump cards.

The kasaya constricting Wu Teng was immediately swarmed by the ravenous spirits. Its holy light dimmed under the sheer volume of demonic energy, forcing it to release its prey and retreat to Huikong’s side. The surviving Shenggang Sect cultivators scrambled in terror, deploying whatever defensive talismans they had left to fend off the ghostly horde.

Huikong, however, stood like a mountain, utterly unfazed by the wailing spirits tearing at his aura.

His twisted grin only widened. “Leave? Did you ask this humble monk for permission?”