What kind of hand was that?
Only one hand, only one arm, and though its form was massive enough to block the sun, it could not change the fact that it was just an arm, an arm severed from its main body.
At the end of the limb, blood dripped profusely; the cross-section was not smooth, but rather jagged with flesh and bone, it seemed not cleanly cut by a sharp blade, but rather brutally torn apart by some force, ripped off with savage and fierce violence.
This torn arm, though not intact, was covered with wounds of all kinds, some pierced by blades, some crushed by heavy weapons, some scorched by fierce flames, frozen and bound, with Taoist characters heavy as mountains and Brahman seals vast as seas, suppressing destructively.
The various injuries, from different great Dao forces, all established systems with the potential to create worlds, now all focused on this arm, causing unimaginable damage.
