The heavens crackled with apocalyptic tension and lightning as Po's words echoed through the shattered landscape, his voice reverberating with a defiance that belied his youthful fra. The energy blade in his left hand glowed silver-blue, humming with the Athosian suit's advanced power that defied cultivation laws. Below him, the earth lay in ruins, a testant to the Elder's overwhelming power and fury, yet Po stood unbothered, his red eyes locked on the Ancient Elder with predatory calm.
Listening to the lad's boastful and insulting words, the Elder's face turned dark with annoyance as his energy surged. His blackened sword of chaotic energy trembled in his grip, his late-stage Saint Ancestor aura surging to its peak.
Then, pointing his sword at Po, the thousands of golden palms inscribed with "Death" rained down like a divine judgnt, each one warping space and obliterating any air resistance in their descent on the earth. The pressuring decline of the thousands of powerful golden death fingers caused the Immortal Realm to quake, its continents groaning under the strain of the Elder's borrowed power.
But faced with the incoming attacks, Po remained calm and unreactive as his suit chid softly in his head:
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