Clouds drifted, and lightning flickered out of sight.
Several side halls around the temple had collapsed under the accumulated lightning. Many monks inside had died violent deaths, their charred corpses exposed among the shattered walls.
Yet the central temple still stood firm. Its five-colored glazed radiance had dimmed somewhat. Cishan planted his staff in the ground, rested his right hand over his knee, and touched his fingers to the earth, forming the Demon-Subduing Seal.
The temple continually drew in Vow Power and bestowed it upon the old monk, filling out his flesh until his face looked lacquered in gold.
Cishan chanted the Buddha's name in a rumbling voice. With the temple's help, he finally withstood Xu Xuan's sword qi, but still spat out a mouthful of golden blood.
His body grew robust, and he rose straight up with a smile on his face.
"This monk has become one with the temple. By drawing down the Vow Power from North of the River, he's even stronger than before. An ordinary cultivator at the Qi Refining Ninth Level would be no match for him."
"Buddhist cultivators may be poor at alchemy and artifact crafting, but they're exceptionally good at holding their ground and defending a territory. With Vow Power and formations to aid them, immortal cultivators can't compare."
Tiantuo discerned Cishan's condition and voiced a warning.
"How long can he hold out? Could we avoid his cutting edge for now and wait until he can't sustain it?"
Xu Xuan asked. With Cishan fighting for his life, he really was troublesome.
"That depends on this monk's will. He might manage ten days or so."
Tiantuo's voice was somber, but Xu Xuan could not wait.
"We don't know what's happening North of the River. If Cihai stabilizes the situation and comes back, we really