"Back?"
Zhao Tianhe was slightly startled, his gaze on the sky widening abruptly, clearly sensing something.
"That aura, it, it is..."
Zhao Muzi looked at the sky with a heavy expression and nodded slightly: "Spirit Mountain."
"Ancient Spirit Mountain."
As soon as he finished speaking, a golden halo appeared in the sky of the Weak Water Realm.
Golden rosy clouds flowed from west to east, like water, forming waves and troughs every ten thousand miles, extending across the entire sky like a golden ocean.
Accompanying them was the faint sound of Buddhist chanting.
Solemn, grand, like the universal voice of countless Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, as if preaching.
"Mu."
"Ma."
"The sanctuary is pure and demons are far away, the scepter horizontally guards the Protector City. If asked where the Spirit Mountain is, it is here and now, do not wander..."
"Neither empty nor existent, no extinction nor birth..."
