Three thousand dream epiphyllums, three thousand old Daoists.
They crowded together so densely that the sight made one's scalp crawl.
The Three Thousand Dreams old Daoists raised their hands in unison. Some swung their fly-whisks, others took down their gourds. Silver strands cascaded like waterfalls, tearing through the void, while wind rose from the gourds, swallowing heaven and devouring earth.
Xuanming frowned slightly. Black and white spread beneath his feet as he unleashed the Yin-Yang Diagram Record, forming a Yin and Yang Taiji Diagram centered on himself. Every ferocious attack was stopped and ground into nothing by the power of the two principles. Silver strands shattered, suction abruptly ceased, and nothing could come within three feet of him.
The Three Thousand Dreams old Daoists moved again. Some sent wooden swords flying from their sleeves, their soaring sword light stretching on without end. Others lashed their fly-whisks wildly, three thousand silver strands gathering into waterfalls. Still others conjured lightning in their palms, filling the sky with dark clouds and raining thunderbolts.
The Yin-Yang Diagram Record revolved, its black-and-white fish swimming around one another. Xuanming's defense was as impregnable as a city of iron walls and boiling moats. However fiercely the attacks surged, they could not break through. Supreme polarity and the two principles, black and white, Yin and Yang—all coexisted in an endless cycle, giving rise to boundless power.
Facing attacks from projections of himself, he remained calm and composed. He considered that this was only a dream. Though dreams were uncanny and unpredictable, capable of endless transformations—in other words, anything could exist in a dream, and anything was possible—they arose from thought.
He and this Dream Demon had only just met and knew nothing of each other's methods. Ultimately, the Three Thousand Dreams old Daoists before him could wield his