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One of the disciples in the room couldn’t help but lower his voice and ask, “Master, what kind of technique was that?”
“…” Muyunzi shook his head.
Truthfully, he wasn’t particularly knowledgeable or well-traveled. Whatever technique that little girl had used, even in his half a lifetime of experience, he had never heard of it. The sight of the little flag releasing black smoke struck him as distinctly unorthodox—certainly not a standard Daoist technique.
Still, their temple wasn’t known for having profound magical traditions. As an orthodox Daoist temple, it relied on the goodwill of divine spirits, invoked through honest, devout practitioners who earned divine favor through their sincerity. Rituals recorded in their scriptures to commune with or summon gods were effective largely due to this relationship.
Although Muyunzi had discerned that the little girl likely wasn’t human, he couldn’t determine whether she was good or evil. He simply thought that if she managed to eliminate the malevolent entity plaguing Peach Blossom Village, it would be a blessing. He resolved to feign ignorance.
If her strength proved insufficient, he could call upon the Duke of Thunder, whose divine insight would undoubtedly distinguish right from wrong. That way, he wouldn’t have to concern himself further.
One way or another, there was no need for him to overthink it.
“Master…”
“Shh!”
One of his disciples, still...
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