The head of the Mo Branch remained silent.
The Great Youming Dharma Body stood before him like a Giant Spirit God, firmly guarding his safety. Cracks covered its chest, packed tightly together.
At its center, a long, narrow, viciously jagged hole yawned pitch-black, as if silently mocking someone.
The Nether-Bright Palm had been destroyed without warning. At that critical moment, Mo Tong had no choice but to summon the Mo Branch's top branch-guarding Dharma Body, the sky-obscuring Great Youming Dharma Body, to block the attack.
The Futu Demon-Extinguishing Light summoned by the Eight-Part Buddha—eight beams of death—had nearly pierced straight through the Great Youming Dharma Body. It had come down to the very last sliver, a hairsbreadth from disaster.
Though Mu Chen's attack had been caught by Mo Tong, neither side had won or lost.
But the former was Late Spirit Grade, while the latter was Quasi-Saint.
Even though Mu Chen had used a trick, stacking three Peerless Divine Abilities in advance and sacrificing billions of Supreme Spiritual Liquid, Mo Tong had also brought out his strongest trump card: his Supreme Dharma Body.
For him, not winning was the same as losing.
It was just like when Maha You, that veteran powerhouse, had secretly clashed with Mu Chen's aura outside the Buddha Realm. After failing to gain the upper hand, he had considered himself defeated.
People stared at the battlefield in stunned disbelief. How could anyone describe the shock of it?
Just then, a mountain breeze swept by, and a tall figure took shape.
As the spiritual-energy hurricane raged, Mu Chen had used the Great Wind-Calling Art to dodge every shock wave and emerge unscathed. This marvelous art really was a divine ability for making a getaway.
"I didn't punch through. Head of the Mo Branch, how about we call