Chapter 793: Take Care of the Young Cult Leader

TL: FoodieMonster007

The Demonic Buddha was utterly bewildered, no he was completely flabbergasted. It was surprising enough to have entered the wall, but now he himself had become a painting.

He had heard of an evil art called the Dark Black Painting Technique that used paintings before, but this was the first time he had directly experienced it.

He looked around the white space, which was as empty as a painter's canvas. Everything was so white that his sense of distance grew dull.

From here, he could see the outside. A transparent barrier separated his space from the outside world, and it refused to budge when he pressed his hand against it.

BOOM!

He threw a palm strike to break out, but the force simply vanished into the transparent barrier. Instinct told him that he could never pierce the barrier with force alone unless he found the proper method to break it.

Outside, he saw the Drunken Demon stab the man with closed eyes with a throwing knife.

The attack had no effect. Instead, the painting of the man inside the wall opened its eyes and rushed toward him.

He could see the Drunken Demon in the outside world say something, but he couldn't hear anything. He could only watch from a space completely separated from the outside world.

After clashing with the man once, he completed a hand seal, confident he could finish him with this single move. There was no way the man could dodge his Slaughter Scripture Regret Stamp at such close range.

The next moment, though, he discovered that he couldn't move. The Slaughter Scripture Regret Stamp that he had unleashed also stopped in mid-air. In that instant, everything truly became a painting.

The only saving grace was that his opponent had also stopped. The man seemed conscious, just like himself, as his eyes looked his way and smiled.

SKRIT… SKRIT… SKRIT!

A black hole formed in front of his enhanced qi. As soon as it was complete, his enhanced qi vanished into the dark passage.

As if that weren't bad enough, something even more astonishing unfolded. The Slaughter Scripture Regret Stamp bore down on the Drunken Demon outside.

"No!"

He watched in disbelief as the Drunken Demon was helplessly engulfed by the enhanced qi and sent flying into the far wall, unable to dodge in time.

In contrast, the Dark Black Painted Spirit enjoyed the situation, smiling playfully.

Fortunately, he saw the Drunken Demon leap back to his feet. Evidently, he had been prepared all along, and raised his defensive qi to their limit.

The two Demon Supremes' gazes met. The Drunken Demon nodded with a look that said he was okay, filling the Demonic Buddha with a sense of relief.

However, he was also worried.

This is bad. What if my attacks are redirected to the Drunken Demon? If this continues, I won't be able to use my most powerful techniques at critical moments. This is an incredibly disadvantageous fight.

The Demonic Buddha decided to face the Painted Spirit with conventional attacks instead of the Great Golden Mara Art.

I'll kill him with fundamental skills!

He knew he could overwhelm the Painted Spirit with pure skill. The man should have already been a corpse on the ground.

As things played out, however, he found that the annoying Spirit could do more than just draw dark passages to redirect attacks to the outside world. His fighting style was utterly unique.

SWOOSH!

A black line was drawn like a painter striking an orchid onto a canvas, turning into a wave of sword qi that cut cleanly across the space.

SWOOSH, SWOOOOSH!

The Demonic Buddha twisted his body to dodge. As black sword qi grazed past him, prayer beads flew from his hand.

SWISH SWISH SWISH SWISH SWISH SWISH!

However, the sword qi was a wide-ranging attack that anticipated his evasion.

PLIP!

A drop of ink appeared between the two and began to spread out from that point, swallowing all the flying prayer beads.

The Demonic Buddha frowned in irritation. His opponent attacked using paintings, and this space was his canvas.

Moreover, with the Greedy Annihilation Art spread throughout this entire ship, this man's evil arts has become several times more powerful!

The dark energy grew stronger, feeding on the intense greed of the gamblers.

Just then, the Demonic Buddha felt an eerie sensation and looked up. A red enhanced qi had somehow become entangled in a strange shape and was floating in the air.

WHOOOOSH! CRASH!

The red enhanced qi slammed down.

Diving to evade it, the Demonic Buddha realized the identity of the red enhanced qi as the seal stamped on a painting.¹

CRASH! CRAAASH!

The seals fell in succession, and the Demonic Buddha used his brilliant movement arts to escape the attacks. Because it was manifested as a painting, it looked playful yet bizarre, but it was a powerful attack that would cause serious injury if it actually hit.

When he saw an opportunity, he rushed right in front of the Spirit to sever his neck. However, he found himself once again stopped like a painting.

The Painted Spirit also stopped and smiled at the Demonic Buddha.

SKRIT… SKRIT… SKRIT!

As a picture was drawn, a sudden, tremendous gust of wind sent the Demonic Buddha flying.

WHOOOOSH!

The distance between him and the man widened again.

"Damn it!"

This fight was more difficult than any he had ever fought.

"I've heard rumors that the skills of the Eight Demon Supremes are incredible, but you're nothing special, are you?" the Dark Black Painted Spirit taunted.

The Demonic Buddha calmly retorted, "I've never been interested in painting. If I'd known this would happen, I would've taken up painting instead of sculpting."

Although it was a situation that should have made him anxious, he remained composed. Losing his cool at a time like this would only lead to defeat.

"Demonic Buddha, you will remain here with me forever."

With those cryptic words, the Dark Black Painted Spirit took several scrolls out from his robes. He unrolled one of them, revealing the image of a martial artist. The image was drawn only in ink, with no color on the face or clothing.

The man, who was reaching out his hand, had an expression filled with rage and despair. One could sense that it was the final moment before death.

The same was true for the martial artist in another scroll. This time, the image vividly depicted him begging for his life.

The Dark Black Painted Spirit took out an empty scroll. Its border was more ornate than the others; it was a golden scroll.

"I'll put you in this one as a special treat."

"Make sure you draw me more handsome than I am in real life," the Demonic Buddha added coolly.

The Dark Black Painted Spirit sneered. "You must trust that drunkard over there."

He glanced at the Drunken Demon outside the painting. The Demonic Buddha also looked in that direction.

Beyond the transparent barrier, the Drunken Demon was smashing the boxes in the room, looking for a way to break the technique. Judging by the Dark Black Painted Spirit's relaxed expression, however, the solution was not there.

"Aren't you curious what the solution is?" the Dark Black Painted Spirit mocked.

The Demonic Buddha replied confidently, "He'll find it. He's a smarter friend than he looks."

Before they fought again, there was one thing he wanted to know.

"Why did you choose me and not him?"

The man had shown an air of confidence as if he would answer anything, but he did not answer that question.

"You'll get to hear all about it later, inside this scroll."

"There's definitely a way to break this."

The Drunken Demon smashed all the boxes in the room. He did it in case there was a clue inside that could break the technique, but there was nothing inside.

Think! You drunkard, use your head! The more flamboyant and powerful an evil art is, the simpler and closer its solution will be!

However, no matter how much he looked around, he couldn't find anything that could be the solution.

He ran to the wall and placed his hand on it. He checked to see if there was anything inside and even tried injecting his qi, but there was nothing unusual about the wall that served as the stage for the fight.

He looked at the Demonic Buddha fighting on the opposite wall. Even at this moment, the Demonic Buddha was trying to dodge an incoming palm technique, only to find his entire body constricted by thorny vines.

His heart sank, but not because the Demonic Buddha had taken a palm strike from the vines. It was because the color of his body had faded compared to before. Not only was his golden radiance losing its light, but the color of his clothes was also gradually fading.

He had a feeling that once he lost all his color, he would die.

As time passes, he's truly becoming a painting.

The Drunken Demon's heart raced. He leaped up to the ceiling and inspected it, hoping there might be something hidden, but there was nothing unusual about the ceiling either.

In the end, he did what he had been hesitating to do.

CRAAAASH!

Unable to find another way, he destroyed part of the wall.

The moment the wall was breached, the ground where the Demonic Buddha stood quaked as if from an earthquake, causing his footing to become unstable. Giant boulders rained down from above. The Demonic Buddha threw himself aside to dodge them, and fireballs poured down on him.

Seeing the Demonic Buddha barely escape, the Drunken Demon breathed a sigh of relief. He had confirmed that he should not forcibly break the wall.

The Demonic Buddha fought on without giving up. However, just when an attack was about to land properly, he would turn into a painting and stop.

A wall appeared in front of his fist, with steel spikes embedded in it. The spikes were drawn sharply right in front of the Demonic Buddha's fist.

The Drunken Demon ran up to the Dark Black Painted Spirit, who was also frozen, and shouted, "You cowardly bastard! That's enough!"

He raised his fist, intending to blow away the entire section where the man was drawn.

In the end, though, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Making a hole in a distant wall had caused enough chaos. He had a feeling that the moment he struck this man, everything would be over.

It's a trap. If I do that, the Demonic Buddha might never be able to escape.

As the picture was drawn, the two men started moving again. Unable to stop his forward momentum, the Demonic Buddha's fist shattered the steel spikes and broke the wall behind them. Although it was a blow imbued with inner arts, the Demonic Buddha's skin tore and blood flowed.

That man must also be consuming a vast amount of inner qi every time he draws a picture, so how is he holding out like this? Oh, I see. The damn Greedy Annihilation Art is sustaining him.

The color had completely drained from the Demonic Buddha's legs, turning them the color of ink and rendering him immobile.

The Drunken Demon ran in front of the Demonic Buddha, his indignation and anger transmitted even through the barrier, but the Demonic Buddha merely mouthed something calmly.

The Drunken Demon still couldn't hear anything, but he knew what was being said. Just by looking at the Demonic Buddha's expression, he could tell what he was saying.

"Get out of here."

And one more phrase was added.

"Take care of the Young Cult Leader."

The Demonic Buddha's expression looked as peaceful as an enlightened high monk.

Have I ever seen such a peaceful face on the Demonic Buddha since they met?

The Demonic Buddha brought his hands together in prayer, as if he intended to end it all with a final, peaceful image of his hands joined.

First Young Lord, I am sorry I could not serve you until the end.

The Drunken Demon had never felt such great despair. He truly never imagined he would lose the Demonic Buddha like this.

I'm sorry, Mugeuk. How great would it be if Geom Mugeuk were here? Mugeuk would have definitely found the solution, and after crushing that bastard, he would have said something like 'I could draw better than you with my feet'. Why is it me here and not him? If only he was the one here instead!

Suddenly, a realization dawned upon him like a lightning bolt, and he flinched.

That's right. Why the Demonic Buddha? I was the one who cursed at the painting… wait. Could it be?

He pounded on the wall and roared, "Attack one last time! With the strongest attack you have!"

Knowing his words would not be heard, he mimed forming a hand seal in front of the Demonic Buddha, then raised his palm high and slammed it down.

The Demonic Buddha's eyes widened in surprise. He wants me to attack with that technique? But that move will fall on him, won't it?

The Drunken Demon looked at him and nodded. Trust me and do it.

The Drunken Demon's steady gaze didn't convey a plea for him to a struggle desperately before death.

The Demonic Buddha steeled his mind. His lower body was immobile, and the ink was gradually spreading to his upper body. He had only one chance left.

He parted his praying hands and formed a hand seal with both hands, then gathered all his remaining inner qi to unleash the most powerful technique of the Great Golden Mara Art, the Demonic Palm Destruction Stamp!

The Dark Black Painted Spirit smirked, as if taunting, 'Go on, try it'.

WHOOOOOOOOSH!

The palm of a giant Buddha statue, emitting a golden radiance, struck down at the Dark Black Painted Spirit.

The next moment, the giant palm stopped right above the Dark Black Painted Spirit's head.

SKRIT… SKRIT… SKRIT!

In the space between, the dark passage began to be drawn again.

The Dark Black Painted Spirit smiled brightly even before the motion stopped. The Drunken Demon would never be able to withstand this powerful technique…

"Ptui! There's nothing better than alcohol for erasing ink!"

The Drunken Demon gargled his liquor, infusing it with his alcohol qi, and spat it at the black hole.

"!"

The alcohol soaked into the drawing, and the Drunken Demon dashed from side to side, wiping it away with his sleeve.

The Dark Black Painted Spirit's eyes filled with astonishment.

No!

The world inside the painting moved again, and the giant palm struck down on the Dark Black Painted Spirit.

KABOOOOOOM!

Crushed by the Demonic Palm Destruction Stamp, the Dark Black Painted Spirit tried to resist, but he might as well have been a praying mantis trying to stop a carriage wheel.

CRUNCH!

His body was shattered to pieces by the giant, palm-shaped enhanced qi.

"Aaaaaaaargh!"

KABOOM!

A moment later, all traces of the Demonic Palm Destruction Stamp vanished, leaving only flattened, spread-out stains of colorful paint.

SSSSSSS…

The Demonic Buddha's lower body, which had turned the color of ink, began to return to its original color. He was changing from a painting back into a person.

THUD!

The wall spat the Demonic Buddha out.

The Drunken Demon, his tension released, collapsed onto the floor. The Demonic Buddha also let out a sigh and sat down next to him.

For a moment, neither of them said a word. They didn't say "good work" or "thank you." Even without words, they had seen each other's hearts.

The heart of the Demonic Buddha, who had told him to go on ahead. And the heart of the Drunken Demon, who stayed until the end to protect him.

The Drunken Demon offered the liquor bottle from his waist to the Demonic Buddha.

The Demonic Buddha looked down at the bottle for a moment before handing it back. "Save this precious alcohol and drink it yourself."

He now understood for certain why the Painted Spirit had chosen him and not the Drunken Demon. The solution to the brutal Dark Black Painting Technique was incredibly simple. It was liquid.

Realizing that the opponent was a painting that needed to be erased was the key. Perhaps if even a single drop of water had touched the man's body, this evil art would have been broken. If there was no water, one had to use their own blood.

The Drunken Demon had alcohol, and above all, the alcohol qi that protected him was ultimately composed of water.

The Painted Spirit could never have fought the Drunken Demon in the first place. In terms of compatibility, he was far too weak against the Drunken Demon. He probably would not have faced the Drunken Demon after killing him.

The two men circulated their qi to recover their inner arts and then opened the door at the end of the space.

Beyond the door, an even deeper darkness awaited them.

The Demonic Buddha revealed his golden radiance and stepped in first. "When we get back, I'll buy you a drink of some fine alcohol."

"I'll be looking forward to it," the Drunken Demon said with a smile as he followed him in.

That would be the first drink the Demonic Buddha had ever treated him to.

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