Even so, the Fearbringer's original Sublimation Lineage had already plummeted to the second tier. His spiritual energy channels were shattered beyond repair, most of his authority had drained away, and less than a tenth of his former might remained. All that was left were grievous wounds that would never easily heal.
Meanwhile, Lingchuan paid no attention to his desperate flight.
The Old Monk's expression did not change in the slightest.
His clasped hands remained still, yet the fine golden threads shimmering from his robes did not scatter outward. Instead, they slowly flowed along his hanging sleeves and gathered within his folded palms.
In an instant,
Fear, resentment, rage—
The deathly malice that had erupted from the Fearbringer's desperate escape melted away like ice and snow meeting warm water the moment it touched the flowing glimmer.
Layer by layer, the frenzied murderous intent dissolved, losing every trace of its former sharpness that could tear all things apart.
Even the deep-space ray behind them, originally aimed at Lukaba, followed invisible channels as it flowed back toward the tiny grounds of Sengakuji Temple.
All chaotic, disorderly phenomena of increasing entropy were slowly dismantled and sorted out.
[Extraordinary Characteristics: Burial—Ksitigarbha—A Slumber More Distant Than Death]
This had once been the Great Library's final respect for civilizations that had passed away.
The Gravekeeper would watch those civilizations fall completely silent within the sea of stars, and then, after death, bury them once more.
Death after death.
Whether that took a thousand years, ten thousand years,
one observational era,
or an entire cycle of renewal.
Neither destroyed nor extinguished, it merely dismantled all chaos and violence, cleansing away the filth that eroded the world.
Like Kāśyapa holding up a flower, the Old Monk felt neither joy nor sorrow.
He spread open his hands and