Wang Baole recited the sutra in his head while saying something completely different out loud and unleashing an attack on his enemies. This was something he had done on numerous occasions. It had become a familiar dance.
The power of the sutra descended from the heavens, striking fear and awe into the hearts of the five Never-Ending Clan cultivators. Their minds went blank. Despite being battle-hardened warriors, they were still shocked by the sudden display of power. Only two of them managed to retreat in time. The other three cultivators had been too slow. In an instant, Wang Baole arrived before them, accompanied by a stormy cloud of mist.
A deafening thunder rose to the skies. The mist exploded, the resultant shock waves forcing blood from the three Never-Ending Clan cultivators' mouths. The one who had spoken earlier had been caught right in the middle of the explosion. An enormous, fat hand reached out suddenly and grabbed him by his head.
