The Hell of Sages and Mahātmās was right in front of him. Normally, hells wouldn’t shine with light, but this hell was different. It actually retained bits of deathless godliness.

Just as Yang Qi was about to drop down into the hell, he suddenly sensed an intense golden light behind him. Startled, and fearful that he was again being attacked with sword energy, he spun and found himself facing a person.

Specifically, it was a bald-headed monk, dressed in a fiery-red kāṣāya embroidered with complex golden designs and pulsing with a holy aura. He looked young, no more than eighteen or nineteen, but Yang Qi could sense that he pulsed with a power that could destroy the heavens and extinguish the earth.

‘This guy is incredible,’ Yang Qi thought. ‘Luckily, I have the Secret-Ensconcing All-World Anything-Everything Fundamental-Law Magic, as well as information about the buddhist schools given to me by Peaklord Memory. I shouldn’t have any reason to fear this guy.’

From what Yang Qi could tell, the monk was roughly on the same level as the Wretch God Apostle, with a psychic scale very close to ten and a power index near seven thousand.

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