At the deepest reaches of Enter Demon Cave's sky.
Two figures faced off in a strange manner.
One was a towering figure bathed in countless tribulation lights. His features were aged, his face lined with wrinkles, and he sat cross-legged in the void.
He raised his right hand, revealing a withered, shriveled palm. Resting in it was a spirit pearl, like the eye of a demon, exuding an eerie, spine-chilling aura of calamity.
His left hand lay before him like a mountain range, blocking a black ruler.
The one wielding the black ruler was a monk in old, tattered robes.
The monk's skin was dark, his features resolute, and his brows sharp as sword edges. He stood tall and imposing, gripping the black ruler in his right hand, poised to strike.
Yet the other sleeve of his robe hung empty. He had lost his left arm.
The monk stood as solid as a rock. Strands of Brahma Light Buddha Fire, like shattered gold, emanated from his dark skin. Like burning glazed glass, he radiated an unshakable, majestic presence.
One was an aged man with a towering frame, seated cross-legged.
The other was a monk, like Vajra's Wrathful Gaze, steadfast as a mountain.
The two remained locked in a dueling stance, motionless as clay statues.
Even the world around them bore an eerie stillness. Time, space, everything seemed utterly frozen there.
Until the Demon Ancestor Lu Shu let out an enraged roar within Enter Demon Cave. By the time that sound reached the depths of the sky, it was blocked off, unable to approach that seemingly frozen void.
Naturally, it stirred no reaction.
Yet the dark-skinned monk with resolute features seemed to sense something. His eyelids moved ever so slightly.
That tiny movement alone sent enormous ripples suddenly sweeping through the