The Sacred Leaves Family's Wishes for Peace

Wu Wang hadn't truly abandoned the rest of the monks—he just couldn't bear to linger even a moment longer in that arena.

After leaving Ascension City, he and the other monks regrouped. Heads hung low, they traveled in complete silence all the way back to the Western Region.

When the Buddhist Masters learned what had happened, they were both furious and helpless.

They were furious at the incompetence of their disciples.

They were helpless in the face of the Fang Clan's terrifying strength.

Had Yin Xianhong not stepped in, Wu Wang might still have been able to claim the top spot on the True Dragon Ranking. That would've been acceptable.

But who could have foreseen that Yin Xianhong would side with Fang Ting—the Fang Clan Patriarch—and in doing so, shore up the Fang Clan's shallow foundation with her overwhelming presence?

"Is there truly no way to deal with them?" the Abbot of Lingxu Temple asked bitterly.

Everyone knew that the overall strength of the Western Buddhist sect was still superior to the Fang Clan. If they mobilized fully, the Fang Clan wouldn't survive the assault.

But both sides had backers—and those backers were of the same caliber. If conflict broke out, victory would depend not on force, but on righteousness.

Therefore, they couldn't launch a sudden attack. They had to proceed through "acceptable and controllable" means.

The Abbot of Zhenfo Temple shook his head.

"Yin Xianhong was already a Fifth-Tier Saint King years ago. Her cultivation has likely progressed even further. To find someone under five hundred years old who can rival her—not just in Cangzhou, but in any neighboring region—would be nearly impossible."

Only in the strongest realms of the Tianyuan World could they find someone capable of defeating her.

But that would be a massive effort—time-consuming and draining.

At that moment, a calm voice drifted in.

"Three days from now, this seat will go to Ascension City and speak with the Fang Clan Patriarch. I will personally wager with him."

"Amitabha."

The voice belonged to Master Kongjing, a cultivator who had already stepped into the Emperor Realm.

The moment he spoke, confidence surged through the ranks of the Buddhist sect.

Ascension City remained bustling as ever.

Suddenly—Dong!

A deep, resonant bell rang from afar, prompting everyone near the city gate to pause and look up.

Before they could even see a figure, a massive golden Buddha appeared high in the sky—radiant, towering like a pillar of heaven.

Those who looked directly at the Buddha phantom felt as though their past sins were being laid bare.

Soon after, the arrivals became visible.

At the front sat a plump, kind-faced monk atop a green lotus throne, bathed in a soft Buddha light—not dazzling, but radiant enough to seemingly dispel all darkness from the world.

Behind him followed a host of Arhats and Bodhisattvas.

Wherever they passed, lotus petals rained gently and sacred chants echoed.

This was none other than Kongjing, leading seven Buddhist Masters—the strongest force the Western Region's Buddhist sects could muster.

They went directly to the Fang Clan residence and requested an audience with Fang Ting.

Naturally, Fang Ting had already heard about their arrival before they even set out.

He was curious: with such a grand entrance, what were they trying to accomplish?

He met them in a side hall near the imperial palace.

Fang Ting didn't bother with formalities and got straight to the point:

"What business do the venerable monks have with me?"

Because Fang Ting's cultivation was above Kongjing's, the latter couldn't perceive it. He assumed Fang Ting was merely at the Great Saint Realm.

Kongjing smiled.

"Since you're direct, I'll be as well. I know you're ambitious. With the East, South, and North under your control, your next step is clearly the West—to unify all of Cangzhou."

"And we of the Buddhist sect also wish to step beyond the West and spread the Dharma across all of Cangzhou."

Fang Ting nodded, not denying it.

Kongjing continued:

"So, how about a wager between us? If your Fang Clan wins, all Buddhist cultivators at or above the Dharma Manifestation Realm will leave Cangzhou forever. The remaining monks will secularize and disband."

The seven Buddhist Masters behind him gasped—faces pale with shock.

They wanted to object but didn't dare speak.

It wasn't because they trusted Kongjing implicitly—it was because of his Emperor-level strength. None dared contradict him.

The stakes were massive—so much so that it made the Saint Kings shiver.

If the Fang Clan won, the Buddhist sect's power structure in Cangzhou would be annihilated.

But Kongjing seemed unconcerned and spoke on:

"If we Buddhists win, we will be allowed to build temples and spread our teachings throughout Cangzhou, without Fang Clan interference—in fact, with your full support."

"Patriarch Fang, do we have a deal?"

Fang Ting responded with a question:

"And how will we wager?"

"As cultivators do—by contest of power. A single match. One victor."

This would also prevent a protracted war of attrition.

The seven Buddhist Masters exhaled in relief. Had they not been holding back expressions, they might've laughed aloud.

Only now did they understand why Kongjing dared to stake so much—because he himself would fight.

He was the strongest in Cangzhou. The Fang Clan stood no chance.

Even Fang Ting nearly laughed aloud.

"What a sly old bald donkey. Hiding behind your Emperor Realm status to craft a so-called 'fair' wager."

But Kongjing had miscalculated.

Fang Ting was also at the Emperor Realm—and he had broken through earlier, with greater strength.

Fang Ting replied lightly:

"The Buddhist sect has a foundation built over a hundred thousand years. The Fang Clan is just a lucky newcomer. How could we ever rival your strength?"

"Are you proposing different terms?" Kongjing asked.

Fang Ting shook his head.

"No. I'm saying that if we're going to wager—we should raise the stakes."

"Hmm?"

Kongjing and the seven monks blinked, unsure if they'd heard right.

The Fang Clan wanted to increase the bet?

Was this hubris, or insanity?

Kongjing's interest was piqued.

"How much more?"

"If you lose," Fang Ting said, "not only do you leave Cangzhou, but you also leave behind all Buddhist resources, techniques, and legacies."

Kongjing's brow furrowed. That was a vicious clause. Without legacies or resources, the sect would find rebirth nearly impossible.

"And if your Fang Clan loses?" he asked.

"All of Great Qian will be ceded to you. The Fang Clan will withdraw to our ancestral home, never to appear in the world again."

The terms sent chills through everyone in the room—on both sides.

"Agreed," Kongjing replied without hesitation. "When?"

Fang Ting considered it.

"Three days from now."

"Very well. But with one added rule: participants must be native to Cangzhou," Kongjing said—just to make sure Fang Ting wouldn't bring outside reinforcements.

Fang Ting nodded.

The two parties then swore a Heaven's Oath.

Once invoked, such oaths could not be broken.

"Then it's settled," Fang Ting said calmly.

"We await your arrival," Kongjing replied.

With that, Kongjing and the seven Buddhist Masters departed the Fang Clan—but remained in Ascension City, finding a place to stay nearby.

After all, with just three days, there was no reason to return home.