Silently and without a trace, the old Daoist was instantly refined by this punch, leaving not a speck of residue.
The golden flame of the setting sun fell into the abyss, and the fierce and violent radiance shattered inch by inch.
The golden thunder flame on Meng Chuan's body gradually extinguished, and the silvery-white color took the main stage of his appearance.
White Thunder, a lightning that nourishes vitality.
Every inch of silver brilliance entwined, like a sword edge tempered for a thousand years, cutting through the air with a piercing clang.
Old scars turned to ash in the thunder light, and the newly born texture was like a hundred-fold refined steel, renewed and vibrant.
The exoskeleton retracted back into the body, and the physique slowly shrank to a normal form, as the floral-like chest of bones and flesh closed tightly.
The exposed wounds healed rapidly under the embrace of the White Thunder.
