King's Awakening-Chapter 761 - : Mysterious Ancient Temple

Chapter 761 -761: Mysterious Ancient Temple

Just as White Mitchell was contemplating whether to proceed, the voice of the old beggar resonated again.

“Actually, the black fog can be defeated. I’ve stayed in this ancient temple for thousands of years and remained unscathed. This should tell you something.” The old beggar began speaking slowly.

Hmm!?

White Mitchell paused for a moment, then grasped the meaning. “Senior, you mean there’s something in this ancient temple that can counteract the black fog?”

The old beggar nodded and continued, “At first, the black fog had no intention of sparing this fragment of my soul. It chased me all the way to this temple. But, when I entered the temple, the black fog dispersed.

In the few years when my consciousness was clear, I tried to leave the temple, but as soon as I stepped out, the black fog would start chasing me.

...

Unfortunately, even after all this time, I still can’t pinpoint what it is inside the temple that the black fog fears.”

Upon hearing this, a glimmer of hope appeared in White Mitchell’s eyes.

If he could figure out what the black fog fears, he could prepare in advance so that he wouldn’t be caught off guard if he met it.

“I believe that the thing which makes the black fog retreat must be in the temple. You should go find it. This is all the help I can offer.” The voice of the old beggar gradually weakened, and his residual soul started to flicker even more.

White Mitchell saluted the old beggar, “Thank you for the advice, senior. If you have any unfulfilled wishes or descendants who need care, feel free to tell me. I will do everything within my abilities to fulfill them.”

Wishes?

Descendants?

The old beggar let out a long sigh. “Who could possibly remember me after millennia? And who could still be alive in this world? Let me slowly fade away in this ancient temple, fade, fade…”

The voice of the old beggar gradually faded.

By the time White Mitchell looked up, the figure of the old beggar had already disappeared.

This time, the old beggar was truly dead.

His residual soul, no longer obsessed, dispersed into the universe.

Witnessing this, White Mitchell couldn’t help feeling lamentful.

No matter how powerful one is, they will eventually return to dust.

The old beggar, who was trapped here for so long, found release in his demise.

A moment later, White Mitchell woke up the three God of Heaven War individuals who were outside the ancient temple. He then instructed them before returning to the temple.

The temple still looked the same, and the deity statue was just as damaged as before.

But White Mitchell knew, this was only the outward appearance.

The temple was vast, he guessed that the place he should be searching for was behind the deity statue.

Soon, White Mitchell crossed the statue and arrived at the deeper part of the temple.

The inner hall of the temple was quiet and deserted. Dust and fallen leaves covered every inch of the ground. The once bustling place had become silent. In the midst of this tranquillity, it concealed a turbulent history. While standing in the hall, one could see the jagged walls around them, silently revealing the traces of past battles. The broken wooden beams and scattered bricks evoked the glory and vicissitudes of this land.

In front of the ancient temple, vegetation was occasionally broken due to severe weather, presenting a scene of decay and regrowth that seemed to portray the passing of time. On the roof of the temple stood a solitary bronze Buddha statue, silently guarding everything here. Despite being weathered by time, it still towered above, proving this once majestic and solemn place.

Inside the main hall, a golden Buddha seat was placed in the center, glittering and awe-inspiring. Beside the Buddha’s seat, a series of offerings were arranged. A careful eye could perceive the devotion and reverence contained within these offerings. The copper incense burner emanated a faint fragrance, filling the entire hall with a mysterious power. A monk sat quietly in meditation in front of the Buddha’s seat, chanting the scriptures silently.

The murals on the walls of the main hall reminded one of the temple’s past prosperity, or depicted Buddist teachings. In these paintings, one could see a pond where lotus flowers bloomed, and nearby, the figures of devotees knelt in reverence; the solemn expressions of Buddha as he preached to his disciples in the garden; and a mural of Buddhism teachings, which conveyed harmony between humans and nature in simple lines, allowing one to find inner tranquility. These murals, faded from the passage of time, still outlined the magnificent scenes and holy aura of the past.

Displayed within a small room near the corridor were some ancient scriptures and relics, witnesses to the history of the temple. The dim light of the oil lamps shone through the dust-covered glass into the corners, appearing like lamps that had lost their illuminating power. Among them, an old scripture laid open on a display stand, its antique scriptures inviting deep thought. Here, the classics of old Buddhism were given new life, carrying people’s exploration of life and their desire to seek wisdom, in a way reflecting the glory of the ancient temple.

Behind the mountain gate, the ancient temple was once a place where countless devout believers gathered—it was a pinnacle of knowledge and faith. Yet, the sacred halls are now ruined by the relentless passage of time. The corrosion of the years has led to the former brilliant halls gradually losing their luster, but in every broken wall and ruin, the grandeur and majesty of the past can still be felt.

Despite going through fierce battles, impressions of its history are preserved in the temple, a tribute to its once magnificent glory. It used to be a place where the emperor personally offered sacrifices, a place of meeting for the nobles, and a gathering place for countless sparks of wisdom and faith. Even though some corners have been covered by the dust of the years, the holy aura emitted from within the temple still permeates the air, imparting a feeling of solemn grandeur.

At this moment, standing in the hall of the ancient temple, it’s as if one could hear the interweaving sounds of war and religion, feel the weight of history, and experience the baptism of time. Every corner of the temple exudes an ancient air, as if calling people to step into the river of history. This seemingly disordered ruin is a steadfast guardian of civilization and faith. No matter how many years pass, this ancient temple will forever serve as a witness— a testimony into the human search for awe and devotion deep within their hearts, bearing witness to the changes of history and the passage of time.

Seeing all this, White Mitchell also stood still, more confused within his heart.

Logically, even a small temple in the midst of Qinn could have such a glorious scene, which was sufficient to illustrate the strength of Qinn.

But, strangely enough, Qinn had mysteriously vanished.

Could it be that Qinn was turned into this by that black fog?

White Mitchell shook his head, these historical problems could be pondered later, the task at hand was to find those things that could suppress the black fog.

Otherwise, reckless advancement meant only one path — death.

However, after spending a considerable time searching around the temple, he found nothing.

But, just as White Mitchell was about to give up, a strong pull suddenly emanated from the depths of the old temple, drawing White Mitchell in.

When White Mitchell finally regained his footing, he was shocked to find that the scene before him had changed drastically.

He was standing in front of a small town, and his body was not under his control, just like what had happened after the old beggar had used some technique on him.

Whose perspective is this?

White Mitchell was stunned, and before he could react, an arrogant voice entered his ears.

“I am the prince of the Eastern Dynasty, named Leo. I heard that you are a village youth here, yet you dare to stand confidently in front of me. You have some courage,” said the golden figure.

White Mitchell squinted his eyes, a sense of caution rising in his heart: “What do you want to do? If you cause trouble without reason, I won’t be lenient.”

Leo scoffed: “It seems that you do have some nerve. In that case, why don’t we spar to see if you’re truly a genius.”

White Mitchell was taken aback, not expecting this prince in front of him to suggest a sparring match. Curious, he quickly agreed.

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Their sparring location was in a wide valley, teeming with trees and roaming wild beasts. The two stood on opposite sides, one indicating an attack with sword momentum.

Leo arrogantly declared: “White Mitchell, do you know that in order to succeed in Martial Dao, one needs to stimulate their marrow, perceive the heavens and earth, and condense their state of mind? No matter which aspect, you’re currently incapable. Pitiful yet laughable!”

White Mitchell remained silent, the sharpness in his eyes growing stronger.

“Since you’re not speaking, then let me show you what true Martial Dao is!” Leo swung his sword, and in an instant, sword light spread like snowflakes, enveloping the entire valley in Sword Qi.

White Mitchell moved like the wind beneath his feet, his body flickering like a cloud, a true Light Gong Master. He took a deep breath and formed a sword momentum with both hands, his eyes reflecting his relentless determination.

The two figures intertwined fiercely in the valley, each move fought with difficulty, each attack transformed by intent, containing endless sharpness.

A few hours later, the two respectively retreated a few steps, looking at each other with a hint of surprise in their eyes.

Leo taunted with a laughter: “White Mitchell, you do have incredible swordsmanship, truly worthy of you.”

White Mitchell snorted: “Unexpectedly, the prince of the Eastern Dynasty has such strength. It’s a pity that your swordsmanship falls short.”

As soon as his words fell, White Mitchell crossed his swords, executed a move known as Sword Aura Nine Heavens, aiming his sword at Leo like a flash of lightning.

Leo instinctively blocked it with his sword, but was soon astounded to find that White Mitchell’s sword suddenly changed its trajectory, shifting from a frontal assault to a side strike. Hastily defending, it was already too late, as White Mitchell’s sword pierced his left shoulder.

“White Mitchell, you are recklessly bold!” Leo roared in fury, his momentum skyrocketing.

Yet White Mitchell remained unmoved, chuckling coldly, “Since you’re not convinced, have another taste.”

In the valley, Leo snorted coldly, his momentum once more peaking. He slowly raised the colossal sword in his hands, and a powerful Sword Intent, akin to a mighty torrent, filled the entire valley.

White Mitchell stood before him, showing no signs of retreat. Instead, under the impact of the Sword Intent, the sharp gleam in his eyes became even more pronounced.

“White Mitchell, your strength truly defies understanding! You’re just an ordinary village lad, how could you possess such astounding swordsmanship?” Leo doubted in his heart.

With a faint smile, White Mitchell casually proclaimed, “The way of the sword lies in perceiving the universe and comprehending all things. I may just be a village lad, but my insights can penetrate everything in this world.”

Sword Intent immediately condensed in White Mitchell’s hand, and a blindingly bright Sword Qi, like a phoenix spreading its wings, soared across the sky in an instant. Only feeling heavy, Leo was sliced by the Sword Qi, blood splashed.

“Defeated by an ordinary village boy!” Leo muttered in disbelief.

White Mitchell narrowed his eyes, deep as the starry sky, his swordsmanship had long surpassed the ordinary man’s limit, becoming an unbeatable sword.

Just then, heavy footsteps sounded from the distance, attracting the attention of both White Mitchell and Leo.

A tall middle-aged man approached. Seriousness etched onto his face, a deep worry within his gaze.

“Leo, how did you get hurt?” Seeing the injuries on Leo, the man’s expression changed.

As Leo struggled to his feet, wearing an awkward expression.

Seeing this, White Mitchell immediately stepped forward and said: “Sir, I unintentionally hurt your son. I am willing to take responsibility.”

The middle-aged man stared intently at White Mitchell. After a while, he slowly nodded. His position was extraordinary, being the Great General of the Eastern Dynasty, he naturally had some understanding of White Mitchell’s cultivation and swordsmanship.

“Since you have such swordsmanship, I have a proposal,” said the Great General. “White Mitchell, would you be willing to serve the Eastern Dynasty, become my swordsman, helping me conquer lands far and wide?”

White Mitchell and Leo exchanged glances both filled with excitement and anticipation. After pondering for a moment, White Mitchell ultimately nodded his agreement to the Great General’s proposal.

Thus, White Mitchell left his hometown, following Leo and the Great General, and embarked on a path of conquest.

Upon becoming the Great General’s swordsman, White Mitchell’s cultivation and swordsmanship quite literally grew in leaps and bounds. In the wars on the Eastern Dynasty’s behalf, he vanquished one enemy after another, establishing a glorious record of victories.

One day, while they were marching, White Mitchell suddenly received a letter from home. It read, “White Mitchell, your hometown has been invaded by a brutal demon beast. Please come to aid us urgently.”

White Mitchell quickly sought out the Great General and explained the situation.

The Great General remained silent for a moment, but eventually nodded his agreement to White Mitchell’s request. He knew his swordsman still harbored deep ties at home.

Hurrying back to his hometown, White Mitchell found the village reduced to ruins, smoke billowing, and demon beasts running rampant. With fire in his heart and sword in hand, he plunged into the battle right away.

After fierce battle, White Mitchell succeeded in driving away the demon beasts, but the hometown was still devastated, and the villagers were vulnerable. He pledged to restore his hometown to its former glory.

Thus, White Mitchell embarked on a long road of restoration. He made considerable effort, expending a vast amount of energy and resources to rebuild his hometown. Some years later, the village rejuvenated with life again, and smiles returned to people’s faces.

Standing in the completely rehabilitated village, White Mitchell gazed at the distant mountains and rivers, his heart filled with satisfaction.

Just then, a figure suddenly materialized by White Mitchell’s side. He was a slender, impressively spirited young man.

The young man said, “White Mitchell, I am the younger brother of Leo, named Ethan. I’ve heard of your unparalleled swordsmanship in the Eastern Dynasty, so I purposely come to learn from sparring with you.”

“You’re Leo’s younger brother?” White Mitchell was surprised for a moment, then laughed, “Okay, let’s have a real spar then.”

So, White Mitchell and Ethan began a thrilling duel of swordsmanship in their valley. Their swords clashed, with sword intents crossing each other. There was no other sound in the world, except the collision of swords.

Soon, Ethan felt himself gradually falling behind, a hint of doubt flashing in his eyes.

Upon seeing this, White Mitchell felt a surge of joy, “Although you’re Leo’s brother, your swordsmanship is not as skilled as his. However, your swordsmanship is good.”

Ethan stopped, panting heavily, looking slightly disheveled, yet his eyes still shone with fighting spirit, “White Mitchell, I’m not satisfied! I’ll definitely surpass you and become a Sword Saint!”

White Mitchell smiled slightly, “It’s good that you have this determination, we will have the chance to spar again in the future.”

So, Ethan left his hometown to embark on the path of cultivation. White Mitchell, continued to guard his hometown, for he knew that only protecting one’s home was the true meaning of sword.

Several years passed, and White Mitchell’s swordsmanship improved even further, making him a swordsman that no one in the Eastern Dynasty could match.

One day, White Mitchell, practicing alone on a mountain peak, suddenly felt a powerful presence rapidly approaching. He looked up to see a young man in a black robe approaching with a sneer.

“White Mitchell, it’s been many years, your cultivation has indeed improved, but in my presence, you still have no chance of winning.” The young man in the black robe taunted.

White Mitchell frowned slightly, he could sense that the young man in front of him was much stronger than himself.

The young man in the black robe unfurled the fan in his hand, revealing its peculiar pattern, he sneered, “White Mitchell, do you recognize this folding fan? This is the ‘Soul-devouring Fan’, said to be able to devour the soul of all living beings.”

White Mitchell’s gaze hardened, and he felt a strange and powerful aura emanating from the fan.

The young man in the black robe slowly raised the fan in his hand and then pointed it at White Mitchell, sucking him into the fan with a mighty force.

White Mitchell couldn’t resist and was sucked into the fan, entering a dark space. There was no light, only darkness and boundless void.

“White Mitchell, I am the leader of the Dark Sect, Black Cloud.” A chilly and deep voice echoed in the darkness, “Although your swordsmanship is good, in my presence, it is still ludicrously weak.”

White Mitchell reacted instantly, raising his sword to face Black Cloud’s attack.

In the darkness, Black Cloud’s voice rose again, “White Mitchell, your time of death has come! Accept your fate!”

White Mitchell felt the powerful dark aura in the fan continually oppressing him. He knew he had to find a way to escape.

At this moment, White Mitchell thought of everything he had experienced from his childhood. His family, friends, and hometown, they were the reason he was here, he could not yet fall.

A wave of courage welled up in White Mitchell’s heart, he summoned all his strength and displayed his most exquisite swordsmanship.

In the dark space, a majestic and warm ray of light suddenly appeared. Black Cloud was stunned, and White Mitchell transformed into a ray of light, escaping from the devouring of the fan.

White Mitchell returned to reality, while Black Cloud seemed a bit flustered, “Impossible, how did you manage to escape?!”

White Mitchell sneered, “Your ‘Soul-devouring Fan’ is powerful, but it can’t withstand my swordsmanship. Black Cloud, today I’ll show you, my swordsmanship has beyond what you can imagine.”

Thus, a life-and-death battle unfolded on the mountain peak. White Mitchell swung his sword, the sword aura streaked across the sky like a shooting star, while Black Cloud was unpredictable, appearing and disappearing in the blink of an eye.

After dozens of moves, White Mitchell caught a flaw in Black Cloud’s defenses and drove his sword through his chest.

Black Cloud let out a scream, his body crumbling and turning into countless black mists before ultimately dissipating in the air.

White Mitchell’s chest heaved, he may have defeated Black Cloud, but he knew this was just the beginning…