Even though he once lost to Wu Ming.
Even though he lost to that mysterious and formidable opponent considered his greatest rival, he had never suffered such a humiliation of losing an arm as he did today.
Ten breaths ago.
The Eternal Life God, with his face like purple gold, stood up gasping and laughing hoarsely, his eyes filled with resentment and anger, glaring at the couple before him. Suddenly, the skin from his face slipped off, revealing another face full of wrinkles beneath it. A face with wrinkles as deep as wheel marks left by a cart brutally crushing through mud, barely something resembling Bu Jingyun's features could be made out.
So this is his true appearance; he is already so old, as if on the brink of death, that even Jiang Dali was startled after seeing him.
"Old ghost, you just used the power of Mahavira so many times; with your decrepit body, can you still continue to display it?"
