The flame was not large, no bigger than a bean. It swayed unsteadily, as though it might go out at any moment.
Yet this tiny bean-sized flame made the entire grand array tremble at once.
The phantom images of ten thousand Buddhas stopped chanting in unison.
For the first time, fear appeared in their golden eyes.
Cracks began to spread across the golden patterns on the ground.
The countless Buddhist true words began to dim and go out.
The Sanskrit chants came to an abrupt halt.
In their place was a deathly silence.
The old man's smile froze completely on his face.
His lips trembled as he tried to say something, but no sound came out.
He felt it.
That aura.
An aura that surpassed the sixth level of the Quasi-Saint realm, surpassed the limits this grand array could withstand.
It was the aura of the seventh level of the Quasi-Saint realm.
An aura enough to crush everything.
"It means..."
Su Tao said softly, lightly pointing one finger forward.
The bean-sized black flame drifted from his fingertip.
It floated very slowly—slowly enough for everyone to see its path clearly.
It floated very lightly—so lightly that a gust of wind seemed enough to scatter it.
Yet wherever it passed, space silently vanished.
Wherever it passed, the laws silently shattered.
Wherever it passed, the phantom images of those ten thousand Buddhas began to break apart, one after another.
They did not explode, nor did they disperse. Like fragile porcelain, they shattered soundlessly, turning into golden fragments that filled the sky.
Before those fragments could drift away, the black flame swallowed them, reducing them to nothingness.
The demon-subduing vajra shattered.
The vajra sword shattered.
The Dharma conch shattered.
The precious parasol shattered.
The golden chains snapped apart on their own when they were