Underneath the resplendent golden firmament, twelve streaks of golden light tore through the sky, darting towards the grand palace that loomed ethereal atop the Fusang Tree.
"Husbands and wives are birds of the same forest; they fly separately when disaster strikes! This saying seems quite fitting here!" Li Qingming watched the frantic escape of the twelve Golden Crows, his laughter rising.
"Faced with danger, this is the most instinctive choice of all living beings!" Shakyamuni's eyes sparkled, his palms joined in reverence, faintly exuding a pure Buddha Power.
"Ah, do you intend to take action, Fellow Daoist?" Li Qingming glanced at Shakyamuni with a smile.
"Sigh!" Taking a deep breath, Shakyamuni said, "Amitabha Buddha! This humble monk cannot recklessly slaughter!"
"Fellow Daoist, just wait and watch; the Barbaric will kill them all!" The Ancestor of the Desolate was unconcerned, a cold sneer escaping his lips, as an unabashed murderous intention oozed from his being.
