As the severed hair drifted through the air, it was scorched into a wisp of blue smoke by the lingering Blood Baleful aura on the axe blade.
When Blood Chan Zi sprang up from the ground, the back of his monk's robe was smeared with a layer of dark-red blood pulp.
The instant that blood pulp touched his robe, it began corroding into his body, but the blood-colored Buddhist light around Blood Chan Zi flared up at the same time, forcing the corrosive power back one by one.
He lowered his head and glanced at the scorch marks left where the blood pulp had corroded his back, and the smile on his lips deepened.
"Benefactor's axe is quite heavy."
He spoke softly, drawing an arc at his side with the machete in his right hand.
The trail traced by that arc condensed into a dark-red halo in midair, and lines of inverted scriptures emerged within it.
Those scriptures drifted down from the halo, blanketing Blood Slaughter's entire body like a riot of falling blossoms.
Every scripture was a sealed power of karma.
When the scriptures landed upon the surface of Blood Slaughter's new armor, the writhing human faces on it immediately let out even more agonized wails.
The scriptures embedded themselves into the cracks between the expressions of those faces, forcibly twisting them into entirely different shapes.
Crying faces were stretched into smiles by the scriptures, smiling faces were pressed into rage, and enraged faces were warped into sorrow.
Hundreds and thousands of faces were twisted, remade, and torn apart in the same instant, and countless fine tortoise-shell cracks spread across the armor's surface.
Blood Slaughter's body swayed slightly.
Those altered faces were linked to his core consciousness. Every face that was distorted sent a faint shock through his spiritual