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The two figures who emerged from the void were starkly different in appearance.
One was an old monk, thin and frail as dried wood, his face sunken and lifeless, as if one foot had already stepped into the coffin.
The other was a man in his forties, wearing a red-and-green robe, his hair neatly combed without a single strand out of place. The Nine Glaze Cauldron floated before him, emanating an awe-inspiring divine pressure.
Both men gazed silently at the place where their target had just stood, unable to speak for a long time.
After a few breaths, the old monk joined his palms together and intoned a low Buddhist prayer. “Amitabha. Benefactor Sansui, did you see what just happened?”
The patriarch of the Five Poison Sect, Chen Sansui, spoke in a cold voice. “I saw a man use a gourd to capture...
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