With a sharp command from the Dragon Lord, countless bolts of purple lightning as thick as a human waist fell from the sky, crashing down with a thunderous roar in front of the Nascent Soul Old Cultivators. It was as if heavenly punishment had descended. Although these Nascent Soul Old Cultivators could appear and disappear at will across a thousand miles, they couldn't evade these bolts. They were struck and howled loudly, their Dharmic images dimming.
In the sky, thunder serpents roamed, their aura terrifying and oppressive. Being struck directly was unspeakable, and even watching from the sidelines was enough to make one's heart palpitate and hair stand on end. Those Nascent Soul Old Cultivators were thrown out in utter embarrassment, looking pitiful. Some with weaker cultivation had their Dharmic images shattered, dissipating into a wisp of smoke, leaving only a gleam of light escaping with the wind.
"This is the true Thunder Technique..."
