The deafening roar of the Heavenly Dao shattering echoed through the desolate Primordial World like a funeral knell. From two jagged fissures that rent the firmament, the Chaos Demonic Ape’s colossal palms—covered in coarse, grey-white fur and tipped with talons like primeval god-hooks—slowly emerged, wreathed in a ferocity capable of tearing stars asunder. Beneath those giant palms, time and space froze: the Three Teachings Sage Wheel hung suspended, a mere instant away from crushing the protective barrier. On the Lotus Platform, an infant’s wail remained locked in a silent shriek, the projection of the Flawless God-Slaying Spear at its brow collapsing like a ticking chaos bomb. Yang Jian cradled the dying Xiaotian Hound as cracks spiderwebbed across the petrified Heavenly Pillar; Nezha floated in a daze, his Wind and Fire Wheels dim and falling to the earth. Sun Wukong stood leaning on his staff, his Somersault Cloud nearly dissipated, while the eye of his primordial spirit, having merged with the Heavenly Dao, struggled to close.
Absolute silence, absolute oppression—only the shadow of destruction cast by the Demonic Ape’s palms continued to grow.
In this desperate moment, as all things stood frozen and destruction loomed—
Chapter 437