"Amitabha Buddha."
Seeing that purple light was neither dazzling nor fierce, with no heavenly flowers scattering and no golden lotuses springing from the earth, but only an ancient, unadorned wholeness as though it had emerged from primordial chaos, Shakyamuni dared not be careless. With a thrust of his palm, golden light streamed forth like silk and collided with it in midair.
The two radiances met without a sound, melting into each other like water flowing into the sea, leaving not a single ripple.
In their first exchange, neither gained the upper hand. Yet from that single blow, both had already glimpsed the foundations of the other.
Heavenly demons were formless, ever-changing through a thousand illusions. They could assume the forms of all living beings and mimic their every manner; every frown and smile concealed an opportunity to beguile the heart, striking solely at the weak points of the mind. Should one's Dao heart loosen even slightly and one's thoughts fall into disorder, one would plunge into the demon's net in an instant.
Yet the Buddhist sect stood upon equality as its foundation and compassion as its root, vowing to deliver those drowning in the sea of suffering. Those who cultivated Buddhism possessed hearts like solid rock, untouched by worldly clamor, unmoving and unshaken. Buddhist golden light carried the vast righteous qi of heaven and earth—gentle yet sharp—and was innately capable of suppressing all dark, evil, and foul things. It was precisely the nemesis most feared by the Devil Race.
Though the myriad methods of the world each had their mutual strengths and weaknesses, whether Dao, devil, Buddhism, demon, or shaman, their ultimate pursuit was the same: to exhaust the Heavenly Dao, transcend life and death, live as long as heaven and earth, and endure alongside the sun and moon. This