"CRASH!"
A terrifying claw, as large as a winnowing basket, extended, covered in corpse hair and dripping with fresh blood, striking fear into all who beheld it, chilling them to the bone.
In the old madman's pupils, silver light intensified. Threads of it shot out like silver dragons, slicing towards the huge, green hand.
"CLANG!"
This was the power of a Saint, capable of reducing even the Endless Mountain Range to dust. Yet, when the silver light struck the great claw, it could not destroy it.
Dazzling sparks scattered as if it had struck divine iron with a resounding clang. The claw, like a ghostly hand, slowly continued to rise, unstoppable.
"Wasn't he dead? Could he have transformed into a Corpse Saint?" Li Heishui and the others quickly retreated, seeking refuge behind the old madman.
