“Whoosh...”0

The mountain wind rustled through the forest, creating a soft, whispering sound.0

In a moment of hazy recollection, Huo Erniu seemed to hear the same voice from the dream he had in that abandoned temple—gentle and calm as ever.0

“Previously, you harbored impure thoughts and obtained a treasure that did not rightfully belong to you, leaving your heart uneasy. Now that those thoughts have been purged, this bamboo staff can only be used to strike at demons and evil spirits; it is useless against humans. I will give it to you. 0

“I hope that in this life, you can stay true to your heart and use it wisely. Should you ever give in to wicked thoughts again, the bamboo staff will revert to an ordinary object.”0

“...”0

Huo Erniu stood frozen in place, gripping the bamboo staff.0

He opened his mouth but found himself at a loss for words.0

At this moment, he fully understood—even though this bamboo staff was not the same one as before, it possessed the same mystical properties. The strange thing was that this time, holding it brought him no trace of unease.0

The first thought that crossed Huo Erniu’s mind was—the legends were false after all.0

The storytellers in the teahouses and inns always said that Mister Duan had stolen Immortal Luo’s sword, and with it, he slew demons and defended justice. He not only gained extraordinary skills but also carried an air of heroism, earning the people’s respect.0

Huo Erniu didn’t know whether an immortal named Luo had really lost his sword somewhere in the heavens, but he knew one thing for sure—no true hero was ever made by stealing someone else's weapon.0

The Huo Erniu of the past wouldn't have been such a person. And naturally, neither was the legendary Mister...0