Dark Journey to the West
The gods share the incense in the high seat, while I break the bones and suck the marrow in the quagmire.
Shen Lian worked as a white servant at the Demon Slayer Platform for ten years.
In the past ten years, he had seen enough of how the golden immortals and Buddhas wiped out all living beings while chatting and laughing, and he was also used to seeing how the famous demon kings wailed and twitched like animals under the white jade steps.
Heaven is a tight cage, and spiritual energy is monopolized stolen money.
Mortals cultivating immortality? That is just a harvest of gratifying dividends for gods and Buddhas all over the sky.
Shen Lian does not cultivate immortality.
What he practiced was the human martial arts path that had long been cut off by gods and Buddhas.
Immortals and Buddhas regard demon spirits as trivial matters, and Shen Lian regards demon spirits as material resources.
Immortals and Buddhas regard merit as currency, and Shen Lian regards merit as a stepping stone.
He steals secrets from heaven, intercepts fortune, skins demons, and kills spirit officials.
He knelt in the most humble posture outside the Lingxiao Palace, but in his hand was a murder account that could send gods and Buddhas into reincarnation.
"If the Three Realms were a cannibalistic dark forest, then Shen would be the lone wolf that walks the slowest but bites the hardest."
When the road to the west opens and the golden cicada escapes from its shell, Shen Lian stands in front of Nantian Gate with his sword in hand.
Behind him are numerous sacred bones, and under his feet are broken heavens.
"My dear gods, it's time to go to the fields and plow the fields."
