The autumn wind was biting, with leaves fluttering ceaselessly; the entire Xianglu Mountain Range appeared tranquil, starkly desolate.
Amid the endless falling leaves, the black-robed monk, who once overflowed with confidence, widened his eyes and stared ahead fixedly, gazing at the colossal phantom in the void that casually reached out and pulled the grey-robed elder towards it.
With surging energy and profound eyes, the terrifying intent to kill emanating from him seemed to lock down everything in its path.
The grey-robed elder lifted his head, seemingly taking in the scene as well, momentarily frozen like a petrified chicken, having become a walking corpse.
He stared at Fang Yang's Dharma Idol for a long while before snapping back to reality, violently slapping his own chest.
His eyes were fierce, almost splitting at the seams, clearly aware that he had been cornered, in the most perilous moment of his life.
If he wasn't careful, he would undoubtedly die!
Splat!
