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Countless Cultivators were forced to squeeze their eyes shut by the gale blasting into their faces. Those with weaker cultivation were flung straight onto the deck, rolling into a heap.

At the center of the collision, the lake water had been completely driven away, exposing the cracked, unrecognizable mud and reefs at the bottom.

Then, mist surged upward and formed a mushroom cloud a hundred zhang high, shrouding half of Starfall Lake in hazy vapor.

After the thunderous blast, the White Bone Sarira Pagoda beneath Jimo Luo's feet was covered in dense cracks that ran deep enough to expose the bone.

Three of his six skeletal palms had shattered, while the remaining three were webbed with cracks and on the verge of collapse.

His Asura Dharma Form, bought at the price of self-mutilation, flickered unsteadily from the shock. Of its three faces, the wrathful face had shattered by more than half, while the sorrowful face had been shaken into a cloud of bone dust. Only the joyful face remained, yet it had twisted out of shape, neither crying nor laughing, like an evil ghost.

Jimo Luo himself was in a miserable state as well. His chest heaved violently, a winding streak of blood ran from the corner of his mouth, and the bone armor on both arms peeled away inch by inch. He was already an arrow at the end of its flight.

But the Lord of the Whirlpooling Waves had no intention of giving him room to catch his breath.

The giant ape, which had been blasted two steps back by the bloody light, lowered its head to glance at the wound on its fist, corroded deep enough to show bone by the Nirvana-Bane Buddha Light. Then it immediately threw back its head and let out an even more