For a moment.
A chill ran down Xiao Chen's spine.
This old Demon Cultivator's cultivation was far too profound.
Terrifying beyond measure.
Not to mention that True Demon and Wind Lord were currently on cooldown.
Even if they were still at their peak.
Facing this peerless fiend bearing a thousand years of cultivation.
He would still have no way to deal with him.
However.
Waiting helplessly for death.
Had never been Xiao Chen's style.
High in the sky, Li Jinchán stood atop auspicious clouds, draped in a purple-gold Daoist robe and holding a golden whisk. Rosy clouds coiled around him, giving him an immortal air and an almost holy appearance.
However.
All beings felt that his eyes were sinister. Though he smiled, there was an extreme bloodiness to it, as if mountains of corpses and seas of blood lay hidden within, savage and violent.
Li Jinchán extended his hand. His palm and the void before him were densely covered in dazzling Sanskrit characters. Faint chanting echoed between heaven and earth, transcendent beyond compare.
Yet that lofty sound, which ought to cleanse the world of sin and purify all filth, now sounded bewitching and terrifying in the ears of the crowd.
For a moment.
The gathered beings seemed to see man-eating ghosts.
Soul-devouring demons.
Drifting before their eyes.
Hideous and terrifying.
Li Jinchán wore a cold smile as he swept an indifferent gaze across the surroundings.
Golden ripples curled around him, making him seem both Daoist and Buddhist, his might bearing down upon the world.
"Good disciple, return at once!"
Li Jinchán murmured.
Clang!
A sword cry.
Rang through the high heavens.
Endless power of the wind surged forth.
A gray ancient sword abruptly appeared in Xiao Chen's hand.
Wind Runes glimmered across it.
Like the sword Pangu had used to