His right hand slowly rose. His fingers were long and slender, the knuckles distinct, and the motion was as leisurely as brushing away a speck of dust.
But as he moved, the very space within Zhenyuan Temple's courtyard abruptly froze solid.
The air grew thick as mercury. An immense pressure slammed Wuneng and Wujing, who had just been struggling to their feet, hard against the ground once more. Even breathing became an ordeal.
Sanzang felt his Magical Power instantly and utterly sealed within his body. He was like a mortal trapped in a mire, unable to move a muscle. He even tried to bring his spiritual presence to bear, but before True Monarch Pu Du, it was as inconsequential as a gentle breeze.
He was only an Arhat. Facing a True Monarch who had attained a Bodhisattva Fruit Position was simply out of his league.
In everyone's eyes, True Monarch Pu Du's raised hand seemed to have become a celestial palm, vast enough to blot out the very sky.
