The nine dark gold beads moved like stars.
No slaughter, no battle...
In the sky, on the ground, there was a strange harmony and silence.
And at the moment Song Yan appeared, a gray-robed monk's shadow came from afar, appeared before him, clasped his hands in a slight bow, and Song Yan immediately fell into an illusion realm.
His last remaining thought was: Indeed, I was right, this novice monk is acting with purpose.
He re-entered the illusion. No matter how the illusion realm tempted him, he only wished to find the novice monk who lured him and then kill him.
Ten years.
Twenty years.
Fifty years.
A hundred years.
Chasing from youth to old age, he was always searching for the novice monk. He wanted to kill that novice monk.
This time, when the time was up, nothing came to find him, nothing asked him, "Does it really matter if it's true or false?"
And at the first moment he opened his eyes, he grabbed out with a blood hand, exploding the novice monk.
