Eight Leaves seized the pause in his speech and breathing to circulate his Buddhist Cultivation. His bones crackled like frying beans, and as his blood and qi surged, he forced an incomparably icy current of energy out through his pores.
The moment this frigid force was expelled, it froze all things wherever it touched the ground. Peerless ice blades cut through the earth, cracks spreading layer upon layer as though a hundred new roads had been carved open. Even Xiang Yang could not help praising his cultivation and physique.
This current alone would have been more than enough to kill an ordinary Innate master, yet it had caused Eight Leaves only the slightest trouble. His strength was evident.
He could lock his qi within his body. His flesh was not only hard as gold and iron, but supple as soft brocade.
His skin also had an unusual arrangement, gleaming faintly with golden light and flawless across his entire body. He had likely cultivated a Buddhist school's horizontal-training golden body art. Though it had not reached great completion, it could not be underestimated; otherwise, he would already have died beneath Xiang Yang's saber qi.
As for the Kunjali Samaya Seal he mentioned, Xiang Yang had never heard of it, but he assumed it was an extraordinary and formidable move, possessing uncommon might.
Yet Xiang Yang had never known worry. Ever since receiving a strike from the Ice Heaven Tribulation, there had been nothing under heaven that could make him fear or hesitate. Even if a Dao-attaining powerhouse stood before him, he would still contend with them to see who stood higher.
Eight Leaves had no leisure to think of anything else. He calmed his mind, and his moon-white monk's robe, stained red, fluttered without wind. He tucked in both little fingers,