As soon as the words were spoken, a sharp CRACK echoed. The fat monk's body—along with his soul and True Spirit—crumbled into dust. He welcomed Nirvana, reached his final destination, and met his ultimate end.
Lu Xuan gazed at the scene, his heart pounding wildly. He still felt something was off. When he noticed the chaotic clouds overhead beginning to dissipate, he hastily put away his Qing Ping Sword.
Just then, the chaotic clouds dissipated completely—or rather, they converged and solidified into a two-toned handkerchief.
The handkerchief's colors defied description. If one had to try, its left side was a hue of purity, and its right side, a shade of solemnity.
Two colors, coexisting. Two worlds, coexisting.
Lu Xuan silently put the handkerchief away, his mind racing and his eyes growing deep and profound.
Meanwhile, high above the Celestial Vault, another great uproar erupted among the Immortal Gods.
.........
Spirit Mountain.
