Chief of the Heretical Sect

Chen Huangpi’s silhouette was moving so swiftly it blurred.
He clung desperately to the brass oil lamp, refusing to let go, no matter how the sinister entities within the blue mist dragged him in.
“There’s more than one fiend,” the brass oil lamp shrieked.
Its probing hands numbered sixteen; eight were being forcibly gripped, each exerting strength in turn.
One moment it was pulled left, the next right, even upwards or downwards.
Were it not for the lamp’s extraordinary materials, it would surely have been torn apart.
“Let go! Let go!”
“I can’t,” Chen Huangpi’s eyes burned with murderous intent. The withered branch of the demon tree in his hand flickered madly with an ashen, unnatural light.
The demonic sword energy grew ever sharper, its power increasing—he poured nearly a third of the demon tree’s strength into it.
Any ordinary fiend would die at its touch.
But this strike was not meant for the fiends clutching the lamp.
It was for the monster behind him, composed of countless arms.
The blue mist obscured his vision.
Chen Huangpi could not see its form, and their positions had become confused.
He didn’t know where it was, only that it hadn’t been shaken off—it still clung tightly to him.
“Where are you!”
Chen Huangpi’s gaze darted, searching for the monster.
It was the fiend formed from the severed arms of Xu Qingshan, able to wield the techniques of the Pure Immortal Temple: the Killing Sword, Soul Slayer!
Chen Huangpi understood in a single glance, just as he had comprehended the Dog-Taming Sutra and Demon-Slaying Sword before the world changed—he could instantly grasp the essence.
Yet those arms had only formed the opening gesture of the Soul Slayer when Chen Huangpi was dragged into the blue mist.
He hadn’t learned it yet.
If he could, he'd have another weapon at his disposal.
Just then, the brass oil lamp let out a pained scream.
“Ah, ah, ah!”
Suddenly, Chen Huangpi felt a tremendous force pull him and the lamp upwards.
The other seven unknown fiends didn’t have time to react and were immediately taken along.
The next instant, the blue mist before his eyes parted violently.
Chen Huangpi glanced only once—and his heart nearly burst with terror.
He saw a head.
A massive head, larger than the main hall of the Pure Immortal Temple.
The head lay on its side, covered in black tumors, crowded together like a grotesque helmet.
It had been severed at the neck, blood still flowing from the stump as if it had just been sliced by a blade.
Stranger still, this head was a grotesquely enlarged human head, with eyes, nose, mouth, and ears.
Now, the enormous head opened its mouth, revealing a blood-red tongue that extended endlessly, wrapping tightly around one of the brass oil lamp’s arms and dragging it back.
“Evil Buddha!”
The brass oil lamp named the head, terrified. “Chen Huangpi, let go of me or it will devour you as well!”
“Hurry, let go!”
As it spoke, the lamp even spat true fire at Chen Huangpi, trying to burn him into releasing his grip.
“Huang Er?”
Chen Huangpi was incredulous—how could the lamp turn against him at such a moment?
Had it been possessed by the head of this so-called Evil Buddha?
If so, why hadn’t he been affected himself?

“Cut it down!”
Chen Huangpi’s rage erupted, murderous intent surging.
His fury burned hotter than true fire.
He wielded the demon tree’s withered branch and struck at the Evil Buddha’s head without hesitation.
The ashen sword energy surged, slashing at its visage.
But it was useless.
The sword energy struck the head like a pebble thrown into the ocean.
No, even worse—a pebble at least makes ripples.
Here, the sword energy vanished on contact, as if absorbed.
“How is this possible?”
Chen Huangpi’s voice trembled with disbelief. Though the sword energy lacked black smoke, it was still the demon tree’s power.
Fearing the Evil Buddha’s head would not die, he infused even more power.
Ordinary fiends would perish from such a blow, even calamities could not withstand it unscathed.
Even the demon tree, transformed into a disaster, would at least lose some bark.
But the Evil Buddha’s head showed no reaction.
No, it did react—it moved after swallowing the sword energy.
From lying sideways, it straightened.
A giant halo of gray-green light emerged behind its head.
It truly was a Buddha.
An Evil Buddha!
Somehow, its head had been severed and cast into the old temple.
“We’re doomed!”
The brass oil lamp despaired. “It’s waking up—there’s no escape now!”
Chen Huangpi had never seen an Evil Buddha.
He didn’t know what it represented, only that if he didn’t act soon, the Evil Buddha would devour him and the lamp together.
“Ghost!”
“Master, let me handle it.”
The Death-Seeking Ghost’s chilling voice rang out, its gigantic skeletal form appearing behind Chen Huangpi.
It sensed the Evil Buddha's terror and knew it was no match.
But Chen Huangpi had summoned it—he hadn’t called it for the earlier monster of severed hands, since it was busy digesting the divine souls in the Soul-Harvesting Ledger.
Now, his summoning meant he was desperate.
“Summon the Yin Fiend!”
The Death-Seeking Ghost opened its huge mouth, unleashing a terrifying, icy roar.
Dusky yellow mist poured forth, forming a massive, banner-like weapon with a serrated, gleaming tip.
Unlike last time, the Death-Seeking Ghost now possessed half its peak strength.
The eerie weapon was shrouded in black smoke, within which countless snarling souls seemed to writhe.
“Slash!”
The Death-Seeking Ghost raised the banner high and roared.
The blade, hundreds of feet tall, seemed capable of cleaving the sky, and struck fiercely at the Evil Buddha’s head.
Yet—
The strange halo behind the head spun violently.
Before the blade could touch it, it was sent hurtling backward.
Not only the blade—even the Death-Seeking Ghost itself was forced backward, its time seemingly rewound, vanishing into the Soul-Harvesting Ledger in the blink of an eye.
Chen Huangpi saw this and his heart nearly shattered.
Dog-Taming Sutra!
He immediately activated the Dog-Taming Sutra, and the brass oil lamp cooperated.
In a flash, a cold aura emanated from the lamp’s body, its golden sheen fading to a ghastly green as copper rust covered it, revealing the Nine Nether God Lamp’s true form.

Man and lamp were instantly united in mind.
“Fire!”
Chen Huangpi gripped the Nine Nether God Lamp, and at his command a torrent of icy nether fire surged from all directions toward the Evil Buddha.
But it was still useless.
The Evil Buddha merely opened its mouth and inhaled—all the nether fire was sucked in like a whirlwind.
“Again!”
Chen Huangpi activated the lamp once more.
Nether fire enveloped the Evil Buddha’s head, and countless pale hands emerged from the flames.
All hands struck at the head—but the moment they touched, they disappeared within.
Chen Huangpi was utterly stunned.
The brass oil lamp’s bitter voice sounded in his mind.
“In the Pure Immortal Temple, for sheer killing power, it’s the temple master’s sword. I saw it only once—when the Evil Buddha arrived at the gates, seeking something. The master ignored it, so it sat by the gates, chanting day and night.
Whenever it chanted, the master seemed provoked, drew his sword, and severed its head.
Its body escaped, but the head remained, hung above the gate.
When I awoke, I thought it had turned to dust—never imagined it would be here in the old temple.”
Hearing this, Chen Huangpi felt darkness close in.
“So, is it a calamity or something else?”
“Neither. It’s a Buddha—an Evil Buddha.”
“Evil Buddha?”
Chen Huangpi didn’t understand what that meant, or why it brought such despair to the lamp.
“Immortal—you might think of it as an immortal. Although only its head remains, its essence is still immortal.”
The lamp laughed bitterly, “If only I were Huang Yi, I could curb its arrogance. But I’m not. Chen Huangpi, now we truly share not the same birth, but perhaps the same death.”
Just then—
The Evil Buddha’s head opened its narrow eyes.
Each eye was like a pair of doors, green irises, gray sclera streaked with blood, framed by the ominous halo behind.
There was not a trace of solemnity, only overwhelming evil.
It had fully awakened.
Suddenly, its mouth curled into a bizarre smile.
The blue mist around them dispersed instantly, like snow under the sun.
A low hum…
The Evil Buddha spoke an obscure syllable.
Chen Huangpi had never heard such a sound, but its meaning was clear to him.
He looked back.
Through distant blue mist, the lamp’s other seven arms, previously seized by unknown fiends, snapped back.
It wasn’t that the lamp had broken free—the fiends had released their grip.
Even the Evil Buddha’s blood-red tongue let go of the lamp.
It seemed, upon awakening, it had become a vegetarian Buddha.
Could that be?
Of course not.
For the lamp had already triggered its Divine Light of Escape, whisking Chen Huangpi away without hesitation.
The cold, ghastly light from the lamp turned the scattered blue mist into a vision of hell.
As swift as light itself, the Escape Divine Light was even faster.
Yet the Evil Buddha’s head was faster still.
No matter how the lamp carried Chen Huangpi, no matter how fast they fled, the Evil Buddha’s head always remained before them.
With a smiling face, its blood-filled mouth opened and closed, chanting sacred sounds:
“The three realms are unsafe, like a fiery house.”
“The sea of suffering is endless, salvation is hard for all beings.”
“Enter my Buddhist gate, and you may cross to the other shore.”
This Evil Buddha intended to convert Chen Huangpi, to accomplish what it had never finished.
(End of chapter)