Yang Jian's expression stiffened. He turned his head with difficulty, only to see Chi You's body, which had been split in two, wrapped in demonic qi. The black demonic markings on his body were now blooming with golden radiance. Layers of flesh between the two halves connected like a spiderweb, writhing rapidly as they fused back together.
Before long, Chi You had returned to normal.
Yang Jian was already in despair. The gap between them and this ancient, undying war god was simply too vast to cross.
There was little fluctuation in Chi You's heart. During his years of conquest, he had seen far too many powerful enemies. Those who had lost to him and those who had surpassed him were all gone now.
"You, too, will become dust beneath the wheels of history..."
With that, he raised his battle axe and cleaved down at Yang Jian and Shen Luo.
It seemed that no one under heaven could stop him any longer.
"Amitabha..."
Just then, a Buddhist chant rang out, seeming both close at hand and far beyond the horizon.
Hearing the chant, Chi You's hand paused in midair as he swung his enormous axe. His gaze turned toward a distant direction.
At the foot of a verdant mountain stood a low thatched cottage beneath an old, luxuriant locust tree. Wisps of cooking smoke rose from it, lending a touch of worldly warmth to the scenic landscape.
A young monk in moon-white robes stepped slowly from the cottage. He held a Nine-Ring Tin Staff in one hand and a Purple-Gold Alms Bowl in the other, looking kindly at Chi You.
Though they were separated by a thousand miles, it was as if they had crossed endless space to meet each other's eyes.
"Golden Cicada..." Chi You vaguely recalled the aura