The commotion on the ground had subsided, but the turmoil in the sky remained.
Countless locust tree branches and leaves swirled like frantic, rolling storm clouds, pressing heavily downward over Siwa Cave.
The already cramped and dark Siwa Cave suddenly felt as though it was crushed to the depths of the earth, the suffocating weight making Yang Fan's breathing difficult.
Amid the harsh creaking and scraping sounds, there seemed to be a ferocious, grotesque roar, madly bellowing.
Mr. Fan leapt into the stone cave, turned around, and mocked, shouting outside, "Cultivation is not easy. I advise you not to go astray. Using your own body as a temple to try to absorb incense, aiming to ascend as a deity may sound good, but heaven and earth will never tolerate such actions. You're merely a tree—how could you harbor such immense evil thoughts? Even if you somehow succeed, do you think heaven and earth would accept you?"
