In the dust-laden years that should have remained undisturbed, ripples began to spread one after another,
these ripples swept across the frozen oil painting, with each old event swaying in their wake.
Shakyamuni Buddha opened his eyes, and the Future Maitreya Buddha turned his gaze.
Zhang Fusheng was simultaneously gazed upon by the three Supreme Beings, yet his expression remained calm and composed, as the Eastern Emperor had clearly pointed out,
in the dust-laden years, there is no concept of life and death... After all, here it is referred to as 'years of history',
but in reality, it no longer flows, instead resembling traces left by events that once occurred.
Even for the Supreme Beings, it is difficult to interfere with what has been frozen, unless it is retrieved from the dust.
"Can you still go out?"
A peaceful voice sounded, the 'Great Sun Buddha' shed his shell, revealing his true form—the Now Buddha.
Shakyamuni Buddha, the supreme on Ling Mountain.
