As Sun Wukong gratefully acknowledged Qin Jun, the screams of Tathāgata became fainter and fainter.
His stature swiftly shrank from two Zhang to that of a normal man's size, his vigor withered, the golden radiance on his skin swiftly faded, reverting to the yellow skin of an ordinary person.
With a thud,
he fell to his knees, looking ahead at Patriarch Bodhi approaching through the dust, his expression bewildered, his heart full of bitterness.
He had lost.
A crushing defeat.
Even though he might not have been at his peak, he had still lost, and there was no chance to start again.
Patriarch Bodhi strolled up to Tathāgata, gazing down upon him with an indifferent expression, and said softly, "Actually, I quite admire you, but you made a mistake by using my disciple as a pawn, not just once but twice in succession."
Tathāgata remained silent, knowing that anything he said now was already too late.
