As the golden Buddha bore down, Pan Long leaped up, man and blade becoming one as he slashed toward it.
The light in the sky had faded. The overwhelming might and pressure had long since vanished too. The golden Buddha, about to strike the river and the wooden rafts, looked far weaker than the golden palm and the giant of light before it.
But it still stood more than ten zhang tall. When it fell, it could crush several rafts outright.
The Dragon Pan Long had formed by linking his Blade Aura to the river water had vanished without a trace. Paijiao's Formation had collapsed. All that rose from the river now was a single streak of blade light.
And because Buddha Moves Mountains and Rivers had suppressed the Heaven and Earth Essence, he could draw on only a small circle around him. The blade light was just two or three feet wide and barely a zhang long, like a length of white silk.
A length of white silk against a golden Buddha more than ten zhang tall—even someone who knew nothing of martial arts could see the gulf between them.
The onlookers shook their heads. In their hearts, they had already sentenced the figure leaping from the river to meet it to death.
The Paijiao members were heartsick, bitterly hating their own helplessness.
If they had been able to keep the invisible vibrations from seeping through and breaking the Formation, why would Pan Long have had to throw himself against the Buddha like a mantis raising its arms to stop a cart?
He Dazhi clenched his teeth, refusing to let his tears fall.
A grown man couldn't go weak at death's door. He couldn't give the enemy something to laugh at!
Then something suddenly occurred to him.
*Brother Pan