Faced with Lu Yang's furious sword strike, the evil monk Banbu had nowhere to dodge. He steeled himself and decided to fight to the death.
He decisively bit through the tip of his tongue without the slightest hesitation, then used the blood to paint his face with bizarre runes. He had studied ancient history extensively; these were the symbols of some ancient tribe, used to burn away one's lifespan and vital essence.
It was as though countless bronze bells were shaking inside the evil monk Banbu's body. Waves of Buddhist chanting rang out, making people instinctively bow in worship. But listening closely, one could sense that the chanting was impure, tainted by the obsessive thoughts of evil spirits.
A golden arhat avatar condensed, solemn and dignified. The believers became excited at the sight and kowtowed until their heads were battered and bleeding.
"Brat, you forced me into this!"
Blood streamed from the evil monk Banbu's seven apertures, his face twisted ferociously. The golden arhat was roaring as well. Even when Abbot Mingyu had pursued him that day, he had never used this move. It consumed an enormous amount of power and could cut thousands of years from his lifespan. Unless he was at death's door, he truly did not want to use it.
Yet before Lu Yang's sword, everything was useless. The golden arhat was cleaved in two. The evil monk Banbu had intended to use the golden arhat to draw Lu Yang's attention and escape, but he had never expected this sword to be so terrifying that it could not even withstand a single move. Even in death, his face remained frozen in terror.
This sword had gathered Lu Yang's essence, energy, and spirit. Not even his soul could escape it; it was split in half by the vertical