After an unknown amount of time, White Gate suddenly opened his eyes from his coma, his face filled with horror.
A dignified late Taiyi cultivator had actually been knocked unconscious by a single punch. Even if it was only Ten Fires, he was still Taiyi!
"Awake?"
A voice came from not far away.
White Gate jolted. An unfamiliar voice, an unfamiliar place, and the unpleasant outcome from before—he sprang to his feet at once. As the Heaven-Severing Scripture circled around him, he turned toward the source of the voice.
In an instant, White Gate froze.
Though he could not sense the Dao as keenly as Tianhua, reaching the late Taiyi stage naturally meant he had his own strengths.
His eyes were special. He could see things others could not; it was an innate gift, similar to the Buddhist Sect's Sky Eye divine ability or the Mystic Sect's spirit sight.
Thus, the moment he looked directly at the person before him, he naturally saw something upon him that no one else could see.
In that instant, he seemed to be standing within an endless Ghost Domain. Countless corpses lay all around him, a sea of blood surged and roared, and hundreds of millions of Fierce Ghosts howled.
At the center of that world stood a pitch-black figure, two pairs of pupils like black holes gazing quietly at him.
His soul trembled, as though it were crushed beneath a mountain of immeasurable weight.
His breathing grew ragged despite himself, his heart trembling as well. The pressure was too great. It was as if someone had seized him by the throat; every breath became incomparably urgent, and his life seemed ready to vanish at any moment.
In less than 0.01 seconds, White Gate was drenched in cold sweat, his outer robe soaked through.