Compared to the sects, these Buddhist sects would undoubtedly have a far greater impact on the imperial dynasties.
The foundation of an imperial dynasty's strength lay in its vast population and unceasing supply of talent. That was where its advantage rested.
But once these so-called Buddhist sects intervened and began preaching that all living beings were equal, it would undoubtedly deal a tremendous blow to imperial authority.
"I haven't encountered them yet, so I don't know how strong they are or what cultivation methods they practice. It's too soon to draw a conclusion," Ji Wuming said after pondering for a moment.
Ji Wuming might have been a scoundrel, but that did not mean he lacked brains.
The Divine Continent had clearly entered some kind of turbulent era. The last time such an era had emerged was when the Patriarch of Zi Xiao founded his sect.
Zhou Qitian frowned slightly at those words, clearly dissatisfied with Ji Wuming's answer. Just as he was about to say something, a golden light descended along with an Amitabha that resounded throughout the Purple Firmament Sword Sect.
Ji Wuming's expression changed, and he vanished from where he stood the next instant.
After pondering briefly, Zhou Qitian followed him out as well.
Above the Purple Firmament Sword Sect stood a monk radiating golden light from head to toe. His palms were pressed together, and behind him hovered a swastika talisman dozens of zhang tall.
On the ground before him, Qing Xuzi had fallen in a disheveled heap. A crack had appeared in the longsword in his hand, and blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
Ji Wuming's face turned icy at the sight. He slowly raised his eyes to the monk. The pressure emanating from him made Ji Wuming raise a brow before he demanded