This strike was beautiful beyond words.
Beneath that wave of destruction, they should have been terrified beyond measure, panicked and helpless, crushed by the fear called "death" as their lives were about to vanish.
Yet before this strike, at this moment, beneath every horrified expression rose an indescribable beauty.
That sight was simply too beautiful.
The descending Purple Bamboo was like an aurora blooming across the night sky. As it slowly fell, the world exploded, becoming fireworks that filled the heavens, dazzling beyond compare.
Within it, countless Great Daos trembled, and endless laws were torn apart.
This was no longer merely a killing move. It was an exposition—the exposition of a person who had reached the absolute pinnacle in seeking the Dao, displaying their understanding of the Great Dao before the world.
Every frame was breathtakingly beautiful, every one soul-shaking.
An unsurpassed Great Dao lay spread before their eyes. The impact it brought could no longer be described by words like unforgettable.
It could make one forget everything, drawing in every shred of their mind and spirit.
Of course, such a beautiful Great Dao could not be recorded. It contained far, far too much information, too many Dao laws—the fusion of hundreds of millions of Dao essences, the interweaving of tens of millions of Dao laws.
Pfft!
Some spat blood. Some bled from all seven orifices. Some had their souls shaken. Others had their Heavenly Palaces ring and quake, as though they were about to collapse.
Such a Dao could not be watched, nor should it be watched.
Not only was its attack lethal, but if one's realm was insufficient, even merely observing it could kill.
In but an instant, before the attack had even reached them, the vast majority of disciples from the great sects could no longer hold