The magic array shuddered.
Old Man swept a proud gaze over them all.
He advanced with a commanding, measured square step.
With every step, the array's green light dimmed a little.
"When I was young, I studied Sichuan Opera."
"The greatest pleasure of my life has been listening to opera. If the Alien Races weren't watching us like hungry tigers, I would have been Chuan Prefecture's finest Sichuan Opera master."
"Today, I'll use the ancient heritage of the Sichuan People to send you to Hell."
"Waa-ya-ya..."
As the ancient, lingering melody hummed from Boss's mouth,
a dense drumbeat sounded out of thin air overhead.
Countless threads of multicolored light streamed toward his face.
Before the six onlookers' incredulous eyes,
one mask after another appeared on Boss's face.
"Sichuan Opera-Face-Changing!"
Boss laughed heartily. "Ladies and gentlemen, who wants to die first?"
"At a time like this, old man, have you been scared witless?"
All the White Garment Priest saw was the constantly changing masks on Boss's face, and he smiled contemptuously.
"Then come and try."
Boss's voice was by turns rough, gentle, tender, and bold.
As his masks changed, his expression and voice changed along with them.
Sichuan Opera.
An ancient form of opera passed down for a thousand years.
The romance of the Sichuan People.
For a moment, Boss seemed to carry countless souls within him.
Every mask was a living, breathing character.
Seeing Old Man make his move, Amaterasu and the other five all frowned deeply.
Though they did not know his strength, the golden generation still commanded fear.
"Attack!"
Amaterasu stepped back.
He shouted at the five great Priests, "Test him!"
"Thousand Feather Cranes: Boundary-Breaking Crash!"
"Annihilate!"
All five unleashed their strongest moves at once.
Black crows spiraled down from all over the sky.
They shot toward him