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A monk as valiant-looking as an arhat was carrying a temple on his back and running like mad.
For a moment, Wei Shan thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.
The monk was fleeing so quickly that he seemed like glittering golden light; it was only possible to discern his figure with his divine sense.
Heaven and earth rumbled and shook violently.
The monk’s footsteps rang out like rapid-fire drumbeats.
“Temple Master, what are you just standing there for? Hurry up and help me! Can’t you see I’m being chased?” the old monk bellowed frantically.
Only then did Wei Shan notice the mottled iron sword pursuing the old monk. It was so quick that it was almost impossible to see clearly.
Boom!
The monk ran in circles, still carrying the temple, not daring to stop. It seemed he was terrified that the rusted iron sword would stab him.
Su Yi couldn’t help but laugh. They call him the Monastic Guardian of Universal Emptiness Temple. He’s as crafty as a ghost, a true-blue hooligan.
This is my first time seeing him in such a sorry state.
“Be quick about it! Aren’t you a sword cultivator? Hurry up and subdue that iron sword! It’s a supreme treasure left over from the...
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