In other words...
Each bone bell is made from the bones of different deities!!
At this mont, tens of thousands of bone bells ring simultaneously, the swaying sounds stirring lantations of the deities—no, the lantations of earth deities!
The ringing of the bone bells reflects the dying appearances of their original owners through the flickering candle flas,
land gods, mountain gods, city gods!
One earth deity after another, one god after another wails and cries, weaving a bizarre and piercing great sound that can tear through soul spirits!!
Zhuge Yuyi groans, Sima Shi kneels halfway, and Sima Si rolls on the ground clutching her head.
Silently watching all this, Zhang Fusheng furrows his brow slightly,
thinks for a mont,
and steps forward, lightly stamping.
The sound of the myriad bells abruptly ceases at this mont.
As if halted by this single step.
Zhuge Yuyi gasps for breath, subconsciously looking towards the mysterious figure in black robes with a bronze mask,
the Daoist sitting on the annual Tai Sui, seated on the corpse of Yin Jiao, the prince of the Yin Shang, then raises his eyes again, staring at Zhang Fusheng.
"Who are you?"
The Daoist asks.
Zhang Fusheng calmly replies:
"Central Pole Sect Leader."
The Daoist’s expression remains unchanged, without even the slightest change in his pupils, just shaking his head and saying:
"Nonsense."
In his hand, Floating Dust appears without notice, lightly waved, and amidst thousands of threads are densely suspended stars!
Each star is comparable to a true star, heavy to the extre!
Thousands of threads approach him,
yet the figure in black robes with a bronze mask only exhales a clear air.
Those thousands of threads and countless stars stop three inches in front of him, unable to get any closer.
The Daoist’s expression tightens:
"Impressive technique... go!"
He extends a finger again, opening the ancestral acupoint at his brow, reflecting an ancient realm, from which Yellow Turban Warriors erge,
each surrounded by thick divine light, exuding an aura close to the level of great power!
Ten, hundred, thousand, ten thousand!
Zhang Fusheng praises:
"Marvelous technique!"
He naturally recognizes these are not real living beings, but divine techniques—one mighty divine technique.
"One of the Thirty-Six Great Divine Techniques, Scattering Beans to Make Soldiers?"
Scattering Beans to Make Soldiers does not create ordinary soldiers, but generals, top-tier, celestial generals close to the realm of great power!
If this Daoist’s cultivation were enhanced by three more parts, breaking into the realm of a Great Divine Power User, what was created would be truly mighty!
Looking at the swarm of Yellow Turban Warriors encircling him, ten thousand, hundred thousand, million!
The space infinitely stretched, Zhang Fusheng’s surrounding area of square inches,
forcefully stretched into an ocean of stars vast and boundless, a million Yellow Turban Warriors, each as large as the sun, charging altogether!
An average great power would probably perish instantly!
Yet Zhang Fusheng only peers through the dense assembly of Yellow Turban Warriors, looking at the old Daoist still sitting:
"Later, I’ll ask three things, you should answer truthfully."
After the words fall.
Zhang Fusheng slightly closes his eyes, then opens them again, opening the ancestral acupoint at his brow, connecting with the great universe, enhancing his treasure body.
Afterward, the Fuli Dharma Body reappears.
The space of square inch stretches again, from vastness like a sea of stars to an unbounded great void encompassing all worlds.
In the dazed eyes of Zhuge Yuyi and others,
the seemingly ordinary figure in black robes with a bronze mask,
has transford into a figure cloaked in thirty-six colors of light, surrounded by endless Primordial Clouds, growing larger, larger, larger!
So large it surpasses the imagination.
The million Yellow Turban Warriors, majestic as stars, all added together are smaller than a single pore in his presence, even less to ntion.
Larger than the universe.
The Taiping Daoist Lord finally changes color, waving the Floating Dust again and again!
Eight million Yellow Turban Warriors erge, shouting to kill, rush into it,
moreover, a phantom [Blue Sky] manifests overhead, pressing down together upon the figure cloaked in thirty-six colors of light!
The vast Fuli Great True Man of the universe rely smiles.
Zhang Fusheng gazes at the descending Blue Sky, his spiritual sense warning him, praising:
"Not simple at all..."
"The Blue Sky you alone forged likely surpasses the [New Heaven] tributed by the entire Celestial Principle Sect, right?"
"Excellent, excellent, truly excellent!"
After the praise,
in startled, incredulous gazes,
the vast Fuli Great True Man just stretches lazily, saying:
"All things are void."
And thus.
He disappears.
From now, from this mont, from celestial secrets, destiny, cause and effect, reality,
he disappears.
Exceeds the limits of thought, imagination, and sight.
Nine million Yellow Turban Warriors look around confusedly,
the majestic Blue Sky hangs high, unable to find the target.
Even the Taiping Daoist Lord is lost—What am I doing?
Whom do I intend to attack?
Why did I summon the Yellow Turban Warriors and manifest my Blue Sky?
He knows not, nor can he recall.
The cause and effect are severed, celestial secrets hollow, destiny absent.
And then—
A majestic figure appears behind the Taiping Daoist Lord, those in the Taoist Temple recall everything, recalling before and after.
At this mont.
The Taiping Daoist Lord, terrified, turns around, waving the Floating Dust, forming a seal with his hand, performing another mighty divine technique, and cries out:
"Nail-Head Seven Arrows!!"
The Nail-Head Seven Arrows Book is a Supre Treasure, and Nail-Head Seven Arrows is a divine technique, one of the Thirty-six Heavenly Techniques.
The world’s ultimate curse killing divine technique, evolving into all killing intents from past to present,
is the heaven’s killing intent, stars shifting, the earth’s killing intent, dragons and serpents rising, the human’s killing intent, the world overturning!
Ancient killing intents entwine into a black river, pouring down upon the Great True Man cloaked in thirty-six colors of light, surrounded by Primordial Clouds!
Yet the Great True Man simply raises his head, smiling and facing it.
The black river approaches, suddenly becos gentle.
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