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“Daoist Master, you have quite the skill.” Heroine Wu squinted her eyes, staring at the figure gradually being burned to nothing, leaving only his clothes behind. She chuckled, “I’ve heard that many extraordinary people in the jianghu spend their whole lives mastering just one or two skills, while the high achievers in palaces and temples usually only learn three to five. Yet you, Daoist Master, are so young and already possess so many spells.”
“It’s just a few minor tricks, not worth mentioning.”
“What about these five?” Heroine Wu turned her gaze to the remaining five jianghu men.
“Hey, you…” The Daoist looked at them, paused for a moment, and asked, “Have you ever killed any innocent people?”
The wind rustled, but no one answered.
The five jianghu men were frozen in place; some turned their eyes this way, catching glimpses with their peripheral vision, while others looked away, unable to see what was happening here. Yet they could hear the sounds, and from the sounds, they understood what was transpiring and the Daoist's abilities.
At this moment, upon hearing the Daoist’s question, their hearts were filled with extreme fear. Fear, anxiety, and regret churned within them.
At times, they felt they were facing a divine immortal; at others, they recalled the innocent lives they had recklessly taken, believing...
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