"Master..." As soon as this voice rang out, Master Danyang whirled around in his dream, and immediately saw a familiar face.
It was his once-most-prized disciple, Zhengkun, standing there in a blue Taoist robe, calmly looking at him, his eyes showing no trace of hatred.
He looked so lifelike, as real as if alive.
But Master Danyang distinctly remembered—Zhengkun had had his head smashed to pieces by him; he couldn't possibly still be alive!
The next instant, Master Danyang seemed to realize something, and exploded with fury. "Daring to play ghostly tricks in front of this Taoist Master! I see you're sick of living!!"
With a shout, Master Danyang tossed the longsword in his hand up into the air.
He pressed his middle and index fingers together, bit them at his mouth, and with his fingers, began to inscribe a blood talisman on the falling blade.
