Pitiful!
At this moment, how could the word "pitiful" possibly do Sanzang justice?!
As he lay in that deep pit spanning a hundred li, even "pitiful" was too mild a word for his condition.
His outward dishevelment was the least of it.
Covered in blood, his kasaya in tatters, his face mangled beyond recognition-all of that amounted to barely a ten-thousandth of the suffering he endured.
Far worse was...
The Interception Sect's dao rhythm contained in Bixiao's palm strike had already invaded the depths of his physical body!
That power rampaged through him like countless invisible blades, shattering every tendon, bone, and internal organ in his body!
Every inch was split apart!
Not a single part remained intact.
Sanzang lay in a pool of blood, his entire body convulsing uncontrollably. His face twisted into a knot, his features nearly crushed together in unspeakable agony.
He wanted to scream, but no sound came out. Only broken, indistinct whimpers escaped his throat.
He wanted to move, but could not even lift a finger.
It felt as though his entire body no longer belonged to him.
Every inch of skin, every bone, every meridian reminded him ceaselessly through pain so terrible it could drive him mad.
You are already a cripple.
Sanzang's pupils lost focus, and his consciousness grew hazy. Only that bone-corroding pain kept surging over him, wave after wave, denying him even the escape of unconsciousness.
A fate worse than death.
This was exactly that.
And how tremendous was the commotion when Bixiao sent Sanzang flying tens of thousands of li with one palm strike, leaving a deep pit spanning a hundred li?!
Mountains collapsed and the earth split apart. Dust billowed into the sky, and even the spiritual qi throughout a million li of heaven and earth faltered.
Such