Myriad Immortals

What kind of hand was that?

It was only a hand, only an arm. Though its form was so enormous it could blot out the sky and sun, it could not change this fact: it was merely an arm, an arm severed from its main body.

Blood streamed from the end of the arm. The cross-section was anything but smooth; bone and flesh stood jaggedly exposed. It had clearly not been cleanly severed by a sharp blade, but violently torn apart by some force—wrenched off in an incomparably savage, incomparably brutal fashion.

The torn arm was far from whole. Wounds covered it from top to bottom, each scar different from the next. Some had been pierced through by keen blades; some crushed beneath heavy weapons; some burned by blazing flames or sealed in ice. There were also Dao characters like mountains and Brahman seals like seas, layer upon layer suppressing it with world-destroying force.

These different wounds had come from different great powers of the Dao, all fully formed systems with the potential to open worlds. Now, every one of them had been inflicted upon this single arm, dealing it unimaginable damage.

Under such injuries, white bone showed through in many places across the arm. Some parts had even been charred to cinders or punched through by terrifying force. Yet even so, it stubbornly endured. It had not been shattered by that dreadful Dao power, retaining a thread of life and a fraction of its strength.

Now, it stretched out from the Dark Abyssal Sea. Though only one arm remained—an arm riddled with scars and ruined to the utmost—it still sought to defy Heaven and change its fate. Terrifying power erupted forth to meet the Five-Colored Divine Light that had split open the Dark Abyssal Sea.

"Boom!!!"

Hand and sword,