our figures scattered in panic, darting aimlessly with no sense of direction. Behind them, the ten Buddhist warriors were drawing nearer, their towering forms growing ever clearer.
Unnoticed by all, streaks of violet silently emerged in the sky. As one of the Mosquito Daoist's clones brushed against this violet aura—it vanished without a trace.
The Buddhist warriors exchanged puzzled looks. Uncertain of what just happened, they decided to ignore the missing clone and continued chasing the remaining three.
The three clones, filled with urgency, activated the Time-Fleeing Art to their limits, hoping to shake off their pursuers. But they were only clones—far weaker than the formidable Buddhist warriors. Escape was unlikely.
Still, the Mosquito Daoist wasn't stupid. He split his clones in three directions to confuse the enemy. Behind him, shouts and chants from the Buddhist warriors rang out.
One clone veered left, but just as he did, a gentle, benevolent voice echoed in his mind:"Do not go that way. Follow my direction. Only then will you find your fortune."
Desperate times called for desperate faith. With nothing to lose, the clone obeyed.
Ironically, the new path brought him even closer to the pursuing enemy. This unexpected move stunned the Buddhist warriors. They froze midair, their eyes fixed cautiously on the clone.
Was he about to self-destruct?
Some watched in amusement; others remained on guard.
Then—Boom! A thunderclap cracked through the air.
A Buddhist warrior reacted decisively. With a swift motion, he unleashed a powerful lightning strike from his palm, hurling it directly at the clone.
Instead of dodging, the clone took the blast head-on.
The lead warrior's expression twisted in shock."No! The fiend intends to use the energy to escape!" he shouted.
Sure enough, the instant the clone was hit, he vanished into thin air.
The warrior, bearing the title of Arhat, declared, "This clone is severely injured. I alone will go after it. You continue with the others."The rest agreed without argument.
The Arhat surged forward, chasing after the fleeing essence. Guided by the mysterious voice, the clone was flung across space by the power of the lightning, crashing onto a strange planet.
There were no divine cultivators here—no spiritual energy. The clone cursed silently. Without spiritual qi, how could he ever recover? Weakened, he reverted to his base form—a mere mosquito—unable even to maintain humanoid shape.
To make matters worse, he had landed in… a bathroom.
Inside stood a young man, shirtless, about to take a shower.