When God Lord Moqi saw the white mist surging toward Him, He did not employ any divine power. He merely raised His head and met it with a simple punch.
There was no trace of imposing force in that punch. It was as if He was not fighting, but merely practicing. Yet with that simple punch, the vast mass of white vapor before Him, billowing like rivers and seas, was instantly blasted apart. And it did not end there—the blow continued toward Bai Wang.
Although the white mist tried to intercept and dissolve the force of His punch midway, everything it did was useless. It was as though this had been decreed from the start; nothing could stop it.
Watching the fist draw ever closer, Bai Wang lightly raised his whisk and braced it against the blow. A vast surge of dharma power poured forth, blocking the face of the fist.
He immediately sensed that the other party's strength was solidified, vast and unfathomable. There was nowhere to dissolve it, nowhere to divert it, and it was a level above his own. It should have crushed him outright, but with the whisk artifact in hand, he happened to make up for what he lacked, and thus calmly blocked it.
He could not help but smile. "So that is how it is. With the beginning, the end is already seen."
In other words, once the God Lord launched an attack, it went straight to the result, omitting every process in between.
Even if someone outside took the chance to attack the God Lord while He was attacking him, it would be useless. Once God Lord Moqi's offensive was unleashed, the result had already appeared. The intervening stretch was equivalent to not existing. How could one deal with something that already did