"Greetings, Father." The three women spoke in unison, their voices like pearls and jade striking together.
The It-Transformed Freedom Heavenly Demon Lord's voice was low and heavy. "That man in the lower realm is on the verge of forming his Dao Fruit. I regard him as the greatest enemy of my life. Enter the world at once; bind his heart in a net of desire, disrupt his concentration, and sever his path."
"We obey Father's command!"
The three women bowed, then transformed into three streams of light that tore through the canopy of heaven and plunged straight into the mortal world.
(Note: The original author's remarks and unrelated verses at the end have been removed as requested.)
Shakyamuni sat upright atop the Nine-Grade Golden Lotus. Relic-cloud radiance surged around him like mist, while a golden wheel hung high behind his head, shooting out tens of thousands of golden rays that broke through the air.
Auspicious colors formed bridges across the sky; celestial flowers fell like snow in fluttering showers; golden lotuses spread across the land, shining brightly.
The Sanskrit chant rose again, vast and majestic. Auspicious light cleansed the eight desolations, and even the last trace of violence between heaven and earth was quietly smoothed out.
Sky full of immortal blossoms drifted down in a whirling dance. In an instant, heaven and earth seemed draped in brocade as a rain of flowers poured down without a sound.
The floral fragrance was crisp and pure, refreshing the heart and spleen, yet wrapped in an indescribably secluded charm. It cleansed the eight desolations and clarified heaven and earth.
Suddenly, the void slightly rippled. Three figures stepped slowly from nothingness, all graceful and alluring beauties. Their cloudlike hair was piled high, their brows like fresh willow leaves, their crimson lips brimming with allure.