At that moment, a golden crack slowly appeared in the heart of the tree, like a flash of lightning, splitting the Blood Bodhi Tree in two, emitting a dazzling light that illuminated the surrounding world.
Yan Kong, the old monk, slowly stepped out from the heart of the tree. His steps were steady and slow, his coarse cloth monk shoes lightly crunching over the fallen leaves, making a subtle rustling sound.
What's surprising is that wherever he walked, tender green sprouts broke through the soil, as if his steps carried the vitality of spring, awakening everything in his path.
The kasaya on his body was loosely draped like a faded scripture banner, gently swaying in the breeze. A half-hidden tattoo of a blood vine was visible on his neck, a mark left by the Red Moon monk during his sojourn, now transformed into withered vine patterns, like the weathered marks of time.
King Lin instinctively threw a punch at the sight.
