The desperados and the兵偶—those soldier puppets who had burst out from the underground palace—tangled together in a fierce melee.
Wu Tie was mixed among the desperados.
Using secret arts, he blurred his form.
His fingers trembled as if seized by unseen convulsions, the nails shimmering with a dim and eerie glow as they swept over one兵偶 after another.
His entire skeletal frame was burning, emitting high temperatures and releasing a terrifying devouring power.
Under a completely unreasonable and destructive force, whenever a兵偶 was touched by Wu Tie’s fingers, it exploded into pieces on the spot.
These兵偶 were forged from extremely rare materials; they were the essence itself, with hardly a trace of impurities.
Therefore, when they shattered, no debris was left behind.
Instead, they transformed into thick streams of flowing light that ordinary people could not see, continuously merging into Wu Tie’s body.
His bones burned, scorching his flesh with intense heat.
Thin, thread-like patterns of the Dao emerged winding from his bones and slowly seeped into every part of his flesh and blood.
The wound on his head—the one Aochi had carved with a punch—had already healed.
All his flesh and blood had fully regenerated; even his broken hair had grown back anew.
There was no trace left to be seen.