Fortunately, an invisible hand held him up, sparing him from a tragic end.
"Crack... crack..."
Miao Yin Monk twitched slightly, feeling his master's assistance in dispersing the force, yet puzzled as to why the master did not show himself.
He tried hard to lift his head and look skyward, and his pupils quickly dilated.
In the once dim cloud sky, now cleared somehow, an elder riding a cloud looked calmly at him, accompanied by a youth with a tense expression.
What truly made Miao Yin Monk feel fear, and made the surrounding monks hold their breath...
Was the succession of auspicious clouds appearing behind the elder.
On each white cloud stood a Taoist Monarch, occupying the monks' entire view.
They had an ethereal grace, their expressions indifferent.
Compared to these presences, the previously contrived grandeur of the Bodhi Sect's supposed Great Formation appeared comically ridiculous.
"Seventy-two Cave Golden Immortals..."
