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“Is he dead now?”
Ye Qing looked toward the rubble but couldn’t find a corpse. He was unable to sense Mara Buddha’s presence with his demonic thought either.
“He detonated his mind, so he’s probably dead,” Gu Suitang answered.
Fang Xiaoman pondered for a moment before saying solemnly, “We should still stay on our toes. Mara Buddha is a cunning and cautious man with an unpredictable bag of tricks. I wouldn’t be surprised if he prepared something in the wake of his death.”
“Namo Marakaruna…”
“Namo Marakaruna…”
“Namo Marakaruna…”
It was at this moment every elder, disciple, and servant in Sunset Hill suddenly lost their minds and started chanting “Namo Marakaruna”. Eyes devoid of the light of reason, they abruptly started charging toward Ye Qing, Gui Suitang and Fang Xiaoman.
The cacophony of voices sounded like a series of thunderclaps, and wisps of demonic qi could be seen flying out of their body. They eventually gathered together to form an image of the Buddha Siddhartha Gautama himself, but one that was overflowing with malice. His lips were smiling, but his eyes were weeping blood, and his head was bowed.
The world wept in sorrow when the Buddha bowed his head.
“Mara Buddha!”
“Mara Buddha!”
“Mara Buddha!”
Chaotic, discordant and demonic voices...
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